#seed 10

I’m sad. I’m a mess. I’m nothing. I want the feelings to be gone. But i dont think it’s going away anytime soon. I hate it. It’s the same old problem!! I promised myself the cycle has got to stop. But damnit i’m still in love with you! And i thought telling other people that i dont like/love you anymore would do the trick. But nothing’s happening.

Wait let me change the song. It’s killing the mood.

 I put two and two together. You were leaving. Again. It didn’t take me long to figure it out. You’ll be gone. I’m a lot smarter than you think. I know, like how I know when you’re sad, like how you know when I’m mad.

          I don’t know why I’m sad about you leaving, you’ve done it before, haven’t you? Why must it matter to me now? Of course, all those times you’ve left me, you have given a fair warning. Thank you for that. But this time…this time you look at me and say everything’s okay, you talk forever with me but your eyes, your eyes just give it away. You’re leaving and you’re not coming back. Not like all those times you’ve left me but I wasn’t sad, because I knew you’d come back.

          “Look at those two,” you told me one day. I looked at the couple in front of us going at it, I giggled. “Disgusting,” you muttered. This time I laughed. You were always so tough when you were around me. But I don’t think you know that I know how awkward you are when you’re around other people.

          But I must say, I always found your awkwardness very attractive.

You know those songs that make you think you’re actually in love with someone? 

Yeah. 

I really hate but love them at the same time.

And this song is just so spot on. 

I can relate to every freaking line.

Why.

Now it got me thinking of what had been. and what could have been.

aksjdhaskdlaksdsalfksahda.

Is it wrong that I freaking miss you right now?

Is it wrong that I’m still crying over everything? 

I don’t want to. Not anymore. I’m tired. But I still do anyway.

I thought smiling and laughing would be enough to hide everything.

I thought it would be easy to move on. But damn it’s not. 

I don’t get it. 

I am a wreck. 

I’m not happy. I don’t quite remember the last time I was. Like, I’m-so-happy-I-could-die kind of happy. Yes, I smile, but I don’t think that’s the determining factor of happiness. A lot of people could fake a smile, I could fake one, too. As a matter of fact, I just did.

I smiled and it seemed to have convinced a few of my friends that I’m happy. Of course those few, though I appreciate them with all my heart, were those who don’t know me that much. 

But back to my main point: I’m not happy. 

At least I don’t think it’s real. I’m okay. That doesn’t mean I’m happy. I’m fine. That doesn’t mean I’m happy.

Sad songs make more sense than happy ones. That means I’m not happy.

I’m thankful. That doesn’t mean I’m happy.

I’m laughing. It could mean I’m happy but maybe it was just for a few seconds while the laughter lasted. But then again, anybody could fake a laugh.

I’m not happy. I don’t know when I will be—genuinely happy.

Okay, okay.

I'm bored.

Let's make-up stories.

What about...her! In the corner with the book.

Okay.

Let's start.

It was a usual Monday afterschool afternoon for Samantha. She clutched her schoolbooks close to her as she had her bag safely hanging on her right shoulder and the book she was currently reading resting atop all the textbooks she needed for her major classes at the University.

She bid her friends goodbye and she was off to her favorite cupcake place, which was a 10-minute walk from their University.

Sam arrived at her destination and already made a beeline to her usual spot—the corner of the picturesque cupcake place, where the light hit its location perfectly, apt for reading books, which is why Sam loved that table—where the waitress was already putting down her usual: Moist Chocolate Cupcake with a steamed White Mocha Americano on the side.

“Thanks, Jen.” She said politely to the waitress. “No problem, Sammy. Enjoy!” Sam cringed at Jenny’s nickname to her but Jenny smiled at her brightly and went back behind the counter to attend to any more customers that would walk in.

Sam carefully placed and pushed away her textbooks on the table and grabbed her book for the day: Meg Cabot’s Queen of Babble. She took out her big nerdy glasses that she had no choice but to wear and her iPod; she lightly touched the screen unlocking it and tapped the music icon then finally, tapped her playlist named ‘on rainy days with a good book’ and plugged in her earphones, tuning out everything inside the little shop. Sam tried different positions with how she sat—until she decided she must’ve looked like a mad cat trying to get comfortable before sleeping—and finally settled on her back on the armrest and her feet dangling on the other side.

She grabbed the plate where the cupcake was sitting on and drew it closer to her, as well as the hot concoction. Once she was contented with her position and everything around her, she opened her book and was in her own little world. And she didn’t plan on leaving it any time soon.

The door opened to the little cupcake shop and it kept opening and closing as more and more customers came in and out of the lamely named shop—Little Sunshine Cakes. Though flimsily made, the name always brought a smile to passersby and actually reeled them into going inside the sweet bakery.

And with the rate of people coming in, the shop was immediately filled with sweet-toothed people craving for a bite of the famous “sunshine cupcakes”.

I’m lost.

I’m screwed.

What am I supposed to do?

I’m not from here.

Okay. Breathe.

I mean, okay, I’m not lost. Really. I’m still in the airport so there’s still hope. I think.

Okay. I just need to think positive, smile, and hope there’s a really nice stranger willing to help me.

At least I know where I’m supposed to go. The address, I mean. But I don’t know how to get there. I didn’t really think this through.

  Manila

Manila.

I cannot believe I’m in Manila! For years I have been dreaming of coming to this place and now I’m here! I’m actually in Manila. Nobody pinch me.

Okay. I’m in Manila. I just need to figure out how to get to my apartment—or should I say flat—then I’ll tell myself more that I’m in Manila!

Now who am I supposed to ask? I know that wouldn’t be safe. But- I don’t have a choice. I really don’t.

Why didn’t I agree to come here with my friends next week? Oh. That’s right. Because I’m stupid and too excited to get to Manila!

Stupid, Analeigh.

Relax. I can wing this. Yes. Talking is my kind of thing. But apparently, directions aren’t. But that’s not the point. Okay it is but, whatever.

They didn’t really teach us that in college. I might have to have a talk with our Dean. Yes, yes. But for now, I need to find my way to apartment then I call our Dean. Okay. It’s a plan.

Okay. Him. He looks nice? I think. I can’t really see his face, but I can hear him. Yeah, he’s that loud. Whoever he is. He’s really loud. Okay. Him.

He's looking here. Hot damn, he's good looking.

And he’s smiling, no, smirking at me.