Poor girl, rich girl

Jack and Julie have been meeting up less often. I have grown to detest myself for being too kind; for being unable to cancel/postpone tuitions so that I can spend your free night with you, for working overtime because no one wants to shut incessant talking up, for planning the wrong things at the wrong time... Verdict: I make a horrible girlfriend, and yet there is a man who's willing to close one eye whenever I piss him off, and is ever-so generous with his hugs and kisses.

Pity he's mine. :) Sorry, girls.

So Julie decided, this past week, to throw everything out of the window, rescue everyone from the office, and make it to every date. And for that 3-4 hours, nothing else really matters.

I remember our tiff on the day we planned to watch Prince of Persia; I watched your expression sour the moment I started hacking like an old lady with a congested nose. The kind of love, in the form of fervent anger as you dragged me around TPY looking for medicine, is more than I can ever ask of you. It pained me to see you feeling frustrated because I was been all stubborn and apathetic towards my condition, and I really hope I would never have to subject you to such agony anymore.

And I promise never to subject you to lengthy chick flicks like Sex and the City anymore, simply because I find them a waste of time as well. I'd rather laze at a coffee joint, with latte in hand, chatting with you about anything under the sun. Yes, we're in love, but we never forget to be each other's best friend.

I miss you like crazy.