Frogs love rain. I hate frogs. But I love rain.
Yesterday jed texted me that he's missing being sixteen. He haven't been 16 for a long time he said. I am twenty-one. He's just eighteen. Thereof, more to me than to him. Am heeding a five-year old nostlagia. Older, maybe.
Don't quite have a retentive memory. But the rain, it keeps me from the danger of having a permanent unstructured thoughts of the past.
Things to fo when it's raining and nostalgic: Sing and play under the rain like a child again. Walk under the rain with your closest friends. tread muds with old classmates up there in the boondocks of UPmin. and watch puddles gather rain dewy-eyed.
Only the last options is available to me.
I hate being 21, as i write, with white hot fervor that never fades. Maybe not. Nevertheless, I'm not liking where I am right now.
For now.
Pagmasdan ang ulan,
Unti-unting tumitila
Ikaw ri'y magpapaalam na
Maari bang minsan pa, mahagkan ka't maiduyan pa
Sakbibi ka't ulan lamang ang saksi.
By the way, friends... I'm missing you a good deal already. Everybody who are not receiving texts and replies from me... I'm well. I'll text you sometime. Let's make the first three options available.