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The fossilization of memory. Sounds too scientific, too pedagogic. Very much like the notes I used to write in Zoology, only in a sentimental context. Note that this blog is a hole in my failing consciousness. Should you leave this blog wondering about things, e-mail me at utakgago [at] gmail [dot] com for questions, job offers, and for-the-lack-of-a-breather e-mails. Subscribe via RSS.

Numb, number, numbest

I was shocked that you’ve read my blog.

I was even shocked that you have read a specific post about my being guilty on what I had committed last semester–the inconsistency, particularly. It wasn’t really that good a news. I knew it was a result of the paradox of blogging privately; no matter how hard I try to protect names or make things private, people can still read them (the fact that I have published it on the Internet). Including you.

All the things I’m posting here in the Net are true. I’m terribly guilty for everything, but something else must have been going on my mind those months that I completely overlooked you. I completely discarded you from my life.

But I think I’ve made the right decision. I’m sorry if I was super numb and was too dispassionate about commitment.

The confrontation we had in the bathroom (no, we are not naked–we just talked in the bathroom since my roommate can overhear our conversation even if he kept on playing Armor for Sleep songs) was something new. We never had anything taken so seriously.

As of the moment, I didn’t have any regret with anything. I’ve been thinking of it for months and I know it’s a right decision–no matter how self-centered, conceited my reasons were–to leave you. I’ve made up my mind.

I hate myself for letting you fall for me. I hate myself seeing you in that very pit, drowning, and I even hate myself for leaving you just like that. I’m numb and dumb, selfish and egoistic.

I respect your right to be furious, but I hope you would also consider cherishing (or at least remembering) the times we have spent together as friends. I just hope that whenever our eyes met around the campus, you wouldn’t avert your eyes from me. I want to know we’re cool after all these things. But I know your rage against me is simply insuperable.

“Haven’t you ever thought of me and my feelings and what those things you’ve done had affected me in ways?”

No, I haven’t thought of it. I haven’t thought or considered anything actually, and you could call me crazy anytime and anywhere you want.

March 26, 2009 at 10:51 pm, filed under Baaaack then, IRLs, Slang and random. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Timeline

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