B for Boy
He is beautiful, I finally admit. I admit defeat and helplessly succumb to the mighty powers of love. I hate it though. I hate the feeling of weakness. Surrendering to floating hearts, giant teddy bears and fluttering butterflies stuffed at the bottom of my lungs. I just hate it. The boy who caught my eyes smiled, and just like that, I back down. I just looked away like a sap. It's not normal of me, I think. But this boy who affected me, who still affects me, should be thankful that I included him in my English project. He'd better be grateful that I didn't muster up the pride that he carelessly crushed, to deny the glowing red blushes painted on my cheeks. I'm mad. But I’m OH so MADLY in love, though it's not visible on my face. Maybe it's because, I'm a girl protected by barriers made up of strength and focus, determination and numbness. But to him, I'm just a girl TRYING so hard to never fall. He said I was afraid that no one would catch me, and I just replied with a fist. He’s right, he always is, but I’m still 13, and I should keep in mind that we have a gap of 3 years-- I mean...I should keep in mind that my family is counting on me, and I shouldn't let myself be distracted by the boy who winked at me, and Lord knows why I fell on my knees that day. I should stop this, like, right now.
But it seems I can’t. Because whenever I remember the good times we spent in Mindanao, I fall down. A bit too hard, that the crash scars my knees. But it seems my heart doesn’t care as much as my mind does? I don’t know, I guess it must be puberty or something.
