After watching Bridge of Terabithia, I'm left all choked up with red puffy eyes and runny nose with the kind of "My Girl" dejavu ending.
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Far back nursery, I can remember walking hand in hand with my schoolmate. He has this bunot hair cut. Can't quite remember if he's in my class.
When I was in Prep, I would give my baon to this boy whom I would pave way should I have been first in the slide. I never held hands with him.
Third grade, I felt my world ended when my best bud told me he'd be transferred to an exclusive all-boys school by next year. He's thin but taller than most guys, has a fair complexion matched with blondish hair. A couple of freckles sprinkled across his nose from one cheek to another. A certain Anthony Russel Bulacan. We held hands one time on our way to the chapel.
I wrote my first crush letter when I was in my Fourth grade. I don't know if he ever did find out it was from me. I handed it to him and told him it was from my cousin who saw him one time. I didn't get the chance to hold his hand.
I was paired with a boy for our flag retreat. Our hands touched as we pull the flag down and fold it in place. I thought I'd marry him someday. Kidding.
In the middle of a class, with my head on the clouds and my chin on my right hand I stared out of space and my mind started to wonder. Minutes passed by and something or rather someone called out my attention. Dexter S., seated a couple of rows in front, looking at me as if wondering why the hell am I staring at him. It was then that I really saw him. He's cute pala. My mind is trying to remember as whether he winked at me or playfully stuck out his tongue instead. Ah now I remember, he just smiled and waived his hand to me. We danced the waltz one time.
Summertime. My best girlfriend, Annie (who has a crush on bardino) and I would spend our afternoon hanging out in the nearby college ground. Tiffany's "I think we're alone now" will always remind me of this boy who sang and dance with me. I think he's Mark Rivera something.
I had a neighbor best bud, he'd tell me his chicks escapades. A two-timing sophomore mongrel on a mission to break hearts and make girls cry. He'd give me three small melons just because he knows I love them. So you think I'd be thrilled when he wrote me saying he fell in love and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I never allowed him to hold my hand since then.
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