And I said, "Baka yung pagkakahiwa lang ng karne sa Reyes Barbecue yung iniyakan ko o kaya kasi may mga pinapatay para lang makakain ako ng bulalo." Those were true stories.

Truth is, I know full well why I cried.

Not gonna lie, I miss the water gun fights in hotel rooms and dancing in the living room with my feet on your toes but I dont miss you blacking out and pretending to have another personality while talking in a British accent.

Or the cheating either.

I miss riding shopping carts in supermarkets and browsing through items, pretending to build a home with you, and the weird impromptus at the most unexpected of times and the plastic toy swordfighting and you trying to catch a non-blurry photo of me because you know how embarrassed I get with having my pics taken and the late night strolls and I miss being hugged and feeling your warmth when I cry and I miss hugging you.

[It's getting worse, oops.]


We were fucking happy. Or at least I thought we were.

Because I was.

Despite the overwhelming misery, there was some sort of comfort in knowing I had you just as much as you have me.

And that is why I cry.