The Weekly LitWit Challenge 6.3: Letter to your ex, part 2 (Updated. “Ex” is the magic word.)
The selection process for the winner of LitWit Challenge 6.2: Recharging Your Brain was a no-brainer. The winner is angus25. Congratulations, angus25, please post your full name in Comments (It won’t be published. We don’t keep files on your true identities and contact information.) and we’ll let you know when your prize has been delivered to National Bookstore in Power Plant Mall, Rockwell, Makati.
Our Weekly LitWit Challenge needs a little kick in the crotch to get restarted, and nothing delivers that kick more effectively than sordid self-exposure. Yours. Previous challenges have shown us that there’s nothing like spilling your guts. You release bottled-up emotions, we get to watch, and we all feel better afterwards.
So we’re revisiting one of the all-time favorites: Letter to your ex.
Your assignment, which you will choose to accept because it’s so juicy, is this. Write a letter to your ex (or if you never got together officially, the object of your affections) telling them all the things you were dying to say but never got around to verbalizing. Observe the 1,000-word maximum, please, anything more than that is self-indulgence. Post your letters in Comments. The deadline for your entries is 11.59pm on Saturday, 9 July 2011.
The prize for LitWit Challenge 6.3: Letter to your ex, part 2 is this gleaming new hardcover copy of the bestselling Swedish crime thriller.
Don’t bottle up your emotions so they can turn into neuroses; post them here so we all have something sensational to read!
The Weekly LitWit Challenge is brought to you by our friends at National Bookstore.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
July 5th, 2011 at 05:22
J,
Ano ngayon ang lasa ng luto sa patis? Na hindi tinola? Makati sa labi ano?
M
P.S. Huwag na huwag mo akong hahalikan pag nagkita tayo. Utang na loob. Alam ko kung saan galing yang lips mo. Please lang.
July 5th, 2011 at 08:40
Ayyy. Cue “Someone Like You” by Adele.
July 5th, 2011 at 11:51
Wrote this one almost two years ago, just made some few edits. Might as well find a use for it!
You made me realize how vulnerable I really am when it comes to intimacy and made me commit the most cruel deeds I ever did on the male ego .I’ve morphed into somebody I hardly recognize anymore. I’ve always been strong, yes, but I was never brutal and heartless. Suddenly, it made no sense to hold back my dark side. I saw no reason to bestow mercy on people who don’t deserve it. I realized there’s no point in holding yourself back from wishing somebody dead.
I still pray for your untimely demise. I’d give anything to see you floating on the Pasig River, or sprawled naked on some gutter and beaten to unrecognizable pulp. If you only know how much I still detest the very idea of your continued existence, you’ll hire someone to start your car every morning. Always keep that in mind. The best birthday gift would be your severed head on my desk and the knowledge that you have suffered so much from your ordeal.
I’ve been stupid enough to let an undeserving schmuck like you enter my life and wreak havoc on my pure intentions and loving heart. I extracted my revenge and caused considerable damage on your life and yet… I feel good about it. Not because I’ve become hopelessly evil, but because for the first time in so many years, I’ve learned how to fight back for the sake of my dignity. I’ve learned that although martyrdom runs in my family, I’m simply not meant to join their ranks. Being a doormat is not my destiny, if I’m inclined to believe in such things.
A lesser woman would be sitting on a shrink’s couch right now and boo-hooing her eyes out. A lesser woman would have drunk herself to stupor and screw the first available man just to take a break from the unbearable loneliness. Hell, a lesser woman would have drawn a gun and blasted her brains out.
I didn’t do any of these things. Shrinks are too expensive; I’ll leave them to those people who spilled their issues on Oprah and Tyra’s couches. And I’m too much of an OC to let my brains spill out on the floor and create a totally grotesque mess. Imagine how many bottles of Lysol it would need to remove the bits and pieces completely, never mind that someone else will actually do the cleaning. No, thank you. Whatever pressures I have can be dealt with by getting drunk on Red Horse with the company of my few but very reliable and trustworthy friends.
Self-pity is not in my vocabulary. It never will be. I’ve walked out on people like you who didn’t have my best interests at heart and royally gave y’all the finger. I can’t be destroyed. Now sear this to your brain and make sure you don’t come near ten-mile radius of my home ever again.
July 5th, 2011 at 19:39
Dear Ex,
I’m done overthinking why you chose a Taong Kweba over me. I’m done asking why you chose to “make things right” with TK over me when it is I you deceived. I’m through being there for you when TK beats you up and squeezes you dry. I’m done putting you together when you’re broken. My shoulders are not for you to cry on anymore. Stay away from me.
I’m done thinking why you’re so complicated or why you seem to choose situations that will make you suffer. Maybe pain makes you feel alive or it distracts you from your aimless life. Maybe your daddy issues fucked you up so bad. For what it’s worth, I already stopped caring.
Maybe there’s a phase in any man’s life that he’d fall for the wrong sort of woman. Silly me for doing that over and over with you.
Something you must know in case it hadn’t dawned on you yet: you’re not making things right, you just want to be in situations that will make you suffer.
I felt you loved me most when threats to our relationship came along. You want my time and attention when I’m caught up with something else. You never revel in happy, contented moments. We have to be full of conflict for us to work. You hated labels. And what the hell is “casual” anyway when we’re so emotionally invested? Oh wait, it was just me.
You said you never wanted to settle down but you settled down with TK. With this in mind I hope you’re truly happy now. I hope hindi ka na utangan ng pamilya nya to send off her DH sister to Hongkong. I hope you continue to feel like a savior when you give her poor pathetic boring provincial mom new things. Thanking you with tears in her eyes for the new dusters and her 500 pesos. How dare you compare that rotting cat dung to my mother. I hope TK doesn’t get sexually molested again and won’t break down because of this as often. Oh yeah, love that fact, huh? I bet that just gave you a mini-gasm. I hope you find meaning in your high paying call center customer support job. Don’t forget to “ma’am/sir” every cursing American and serve them with your winning smile. I hope he finds meaning as well in his 12,000 a month taga timpla ng kape job in that bote/dyaryo factory. I hope he straightens out and never lays a finger on you again. But you wouldn’t like any of that, would you?
July 5th, 2011 at 22:26
Dear Ex,
In a past life, right after you left me, I became a folk singer.
Way back in those glorious years of college, I used to live in a small town south of Manila where
drinks were cheap, sex was a romp down the fertility tree, love felt
forever and friendships were golden. It didn’t matter that half the
population of that university extended their stay in school by a
couple of years or so. The kids were living it, experiencing
everything for the first time, getting hurt, being loved and crawling
drunk to their dorms every night. I used to sing to a motley crowd of
stoners, drunks and hippie college kids out for a cheap beer. I
serenaded them with James Taylor, Simon and Garfunkel, Dust in the
wind, Cat Stevens and every other long-haired seventies dude-singer
you could think of.
Long before that damned McDonald’s commercial co-opted Noel Cabangon
and Kanlungan — (the song that made him famous wasn’t even his) — it
was every one’s love song on campus. The sweet paean to youth and
young love was known to every tibak, campus activist, worth his salt.
Together with the agit-prop anthems of Patatag, the enviro-poethnic
musings of Joey Ayala and the societal observations of Gary Granada,
Buklod, a three-piece folk group with leftist desires, were mainstays
in the radio station of our choice, the late, lamented, DWLA 105.9.
Sure their tapes were available in the Student Union store but
listening late at night to the radio, in the lonely confines of our
dormitories, the sound from the only radio at the end of the hall
echoed and bounced through thin walls and embedded the lyrics in our
hearts, still beating in those pre-dawn hours.
Everyone wore their hair long, grew beards and learned to play guitar.
Into this clique I was born and their world swallowed me whole. It
wasn’t for the struggle. It wasn’t for the philosophies. It was
simply, for love. You were older than me by two years. You had someone
but he left you for greener pastures with only a promise for you to
hold on to. So you were lonely and I was a horndog. It took two months
of us going out and playing naïve before you taught me the intricacies
of the act and me losing it two seconds after I got in your door. The
next few days was a whirl. We never left the room, only to eat, and
then we came back and quenched our insatiable fires.
I was young, impressionable and I lived for you . So one day I find
myself indoctrinated, sworn and painting red slogans at ungodly hours
along campus walls. I was in love and I learned to play my guitar
earnestly while you sang. Not long after, I was a designated guitarist
for rallies, programs and orientations. But as all love songs fade, my
story ends broken by the impending return of the other guy and my love
waking up to the realization that you wanted to be with him for the
rest of their lives.
I still remember that moment as if it was yesterday. We attended a
wake for a comrade fallen in the struggle. After our program, you sat
in the back of the jeep that was to take the group home. It was
3:24am and I held on to her hand while the drizzle started to explode
into full-fledged rain. Tears were welling up in my eyes and I saw you
mouthing the words goodbye as the vehicle moved on breaking our grasp.
Panapanahon ng pagkakataon
Maibabalik ba ang kahapon?
And so I wake up hung over from the experience, the kind of headache
that last for years. I sang my sorrows in the folk dens, got lost in
the songs, drowned myself in brew and hardened my heart for the long
haul of life ahead.
Fuck you, but thank you for the lessons.
July 6th, 2011 at 02:09
To My Mistaken Ecstacy (a.k.a Ex)
I was innocent and naive.
You were ecstacy passing right before my very eyes.
my not-so-prince-charming shoulder
only too willing for a damsel in distress like you.
So it begun our complicated affair.
You freed me from innocence,
So delicious and consuming.
But in the end
You were more like STD.
A short lived pleasure
for a long time of regret.
July 6th, 2011 at 15:36
We think we know why she split.
July 6th, 2011 at 21:46
Dear ex,
You still go around bragging about me ‘liking’ you.
After all these years, I still hate you for not knowing how right you are.
July 6th, 2011 at 23:53
Letters to ex no. 1
Good thing that you broke up with me and married what’s her name. At least I am not the wife who has a husband with a secret Facebook account which says “in a relationship with (name of girl) who is not me.
It’s been 15 years since we broke up and true to form I am still the one who inadvertently finds out about your indiscretions. You haven’t changed your ways and it’s really a blessing in disguise that we broke up.
Letter to ex no. 2
You’re no better than ex no. 1 (I blame my raging hormones at the time). What a hypocrite you were telling me that you’re not the marrying type, only to find out that you already proposed to your soon-to-be wife while we were still a couple. But I believe in karma, how delicious it was to hear that you suspect your wife of having an affair with another man. Schadenfreude indeed!
July 7th, 2011 at 01:43
Dear Evil Spawn,
Long before I met you, a fortune teller told me that I would up marrying my third boyfriend. I didn’t believe it then, but when I met you, I did. Or wanted to. Because technically, you were not my third boyfriend, I counted that mild flirtation with the cute Bosconian, although we
didn’t really go steady. I made myself believe you were the third, because I loved you a lot, despite the fact that many people said we weren’t at the same intellectual (and maturity) level. With me being the more superior one, obviously.
Because who in their right mind would sleep with almost every Filipino girl in Singapore while professing their love for the girlfriend they left behind in Manila? Sure, I followed you a few months later. One would think you’d stop your affairs. But not you. You went behind my back and lied to me all those months because “you didn’t want to hurt me”.
The smarter way would have been to cut me off completely. You could have just broken up with me, never mind not telling me about your affairs. Just a clean break.
But you didn’t make it a clean one. You had to shove a knife through my heart, and twist it around to make me hurt a little more. The knife being the fact that you were sleeping with that other evil spawn, whom I really tried to befriend because she was my officemate, because I thought she was cool and you wouldn’t start an affair with her. Because she was MARRIED. Let’s be clear: she was RECENTLY MARRIED, barely a year after the wedding, and both of you were screwing each other? The honeymoon period was supposed to be with HER HUSBAND, not with you, dumbass!
So now it’s all over. Eventually, you and her moved far away, out of Singapore, thank goodness. Hopefully, not to spread your evil vibes. But to change both your ways.
From time to time, I see a picture of you and her in facebook, I see you’re still together. And I wonder if you’re screwing around with other girls, cheating on her, like what you did to me. I mean, aren’t you tempted by all that “white meat” over there? Oh, I forgot, she’s got you on a very tight leash. She might do something drastic like beat you up (which is what you said she did before), because she’s “a psycho” (your words, not mine).
And I want to tell you: I’m now with boyfriend number three. The REAL one.
All the best,
Starla
July 7th, 2011 at 13:21
Dear Ex,
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I so very hate you.
I abhor you.
I detest you.
.
.
.
.
.
I love you.
Your ex
July 7th, 2011 at 13:25
To: Ex
From: The Ex of Ex
Re: Subpoena to Appear Before The Parents of ‘The Ex of Ex”
———————————————————————————–
I am pregnant.
July 7th, 2011 at 16:14
Dear XBF,
Pls. find an Air21 box with the following items:
(1)Macbook Air – The dents on the cover are from my futile attempt to
deface/disfigure/mutilate every item you gave me. My realization is that stilleto heels are no match for the aluminum casing.
(2)Manolo Blahnik size 8 – Sorry ’bout the sorry state of the heels. See note (1)
(3) A broken bottle of Kate Spade perfume. I knocked it over when You broke up with me over the phone.
(4) Blackberry with letters of your name removed from the keypad. It was a coping mechanism. It did stop me from texting you. You can still use the Q, W, X, Z.
(5) Extra Small Esprit shirt. Unused. Not my size. You can use it as a bib for your soon to be born child. If it’s a girl, she can wear it when she reaches age 3.
(6) Godfather book. I highlighted the part where Mr producer wakes up with the severed head of his prized racehorse. It’s not your horse I’d like to sever. Your horse is useful.
(7) moldy Royce Chocolate you gave me on Valentine’s Day. I reckon you could use the penicilin.
I’m keeping the Louis Vuitton bag. You paid for it using my cc.
Don’t forget to tip the Air21 guy.
XGF
July 7th, 2011 at 16:33
And that is why they left.
July 7th, 2011 at 18:02
J,
I know we were never in a romantic relationship. We never kissed. We didn’t have sex. But we’ve known each other since elementary, we’ve been friends since high school and we were inseparable in college. We spent Valentines Day together, we watched movies and concerts, we took walks, you wrote screenplays and I read them, we cooked, we listened to music and, most of all, we talked endlessly about anything and everything. We would sleep over at my friend’s place and get drunk. We’d lie in the same bed and hold hands while I ask you never to let me drink again. Our families both thought we were a couple. I remember you wrote to me once telling me you’d fallen in love with me. We never talked about that and I never said anything. I didn’t take it too seriously I guess. That was such a long time ago. Now, we hardly see each other anymore. Now, you’re married and you have kids. Now, I think I love you. -B
July 7th, 2011 at 22:30
para sa paligsahang itu, pahiram ke Ate beyonce..Ate, siiing!
What goes around comes back around…
There was a time
I thought, that you did everything right
No lies, no wrong
I, must’ve been outta my mind
So when I think of the time that I almost loved you
You showed your ass and I saw the real you
Thank God you blew it
Thank God I dodged the bullet
I’m so over you
So baby good lookin’ out
[Chorus]
I wanted you bad
I’m so through with that
Cause honestly you turned out to be the best thing I never had
You turned out to be the best thing I never had
And I’m gon’ always be the best thing you never had
I bet it sucks to be you right now
So sad, you’re hurt
Boo hoo, oh, did you expect me to care?
You don’t deserve my tears
I guess that’s why they ain’t there
When I think that there was a time that I almost loved you
You showed your ass and baby yes I saw the real you
Thank God you blew it
Thank God I dodged the bullet
I’m so over you
Baby good lookin’ out
[Chorus]
I wanted you bad
I’m so through with that
Cause honestly you turned out to be the best thing I never had
I said, you turned out to be the best thing I never had
And I’ll never be the best thing you never had
Oh baby I bet sucks to be you right now
I know you want me back
It’s time to face the facts
That I’m the one that’s got away
Lord knows that it would take another place, another time, another world, another life
Thank God I found the good in goodbye
[Chorus]
I used to want you so bad
I’m so through with that
Cause honestly you turned out to be the best thing I never had
You turned out to be the best thing I never had
And I will always be the, best thing you never had.
Best thing you never had!
I used to want you so bad
I’m so through with that
Cause honestly you turned out to be the best thing I never had
Oh you turned out to be the best thing I never had
Oh I will never be the best thing you never had
Oh baby, I bet it sucks to be you right now
July 8th, 2011 at 00:58
Dear Object of Affection,
You’re 15 years younger than me, you’re planning on going back to your own country by April next year, you sometimes smell like soap, you have a horrible way of walking, and yet, that nose. That profile. Those eyes and eyelashes. The five o’clock shadow. Plus all our shared likes and dislikes. How we read the same things. How you like cats as much as I do.
The last week has been pure torment. We went to the park to share an ice cream, I so wanted to kiss you on the bench, but I didn’t. I feel the desire rising from inside my less than secure core, and I keep wondering as I look at you what you’d do if I did just give in to the temptation. Walk away? Push me off in horror? Never speak to me again? Worst case scenarios run through my head and keep me from opening my mouth.
I have hired new pretty boys to distract me, but they don’t do the trick. They are nice on the eyes, and sometimes I forget you, until you send me an email saying “Miss you” or some other innocuous comment that makes me hope. Stupid, pandora’s box of hope.
You’re surrounded by a bevy of pretty girls and I wonder which one will snag you. I fantasize that you’ll say how much you prefer older women of a certain morbid bent. Then you say how much I’m like an older sister, or a maternal best friend and it takes all of my brittle sense of self to keep from slapping you.
Ah Object, you’re just the latest in years of inner-self immolation. Do find someone and marry them soon. It’s my only known cure.
Big sis, not!
July 8th, 2011 at 01:00
Sa aking minahal,
Talipandas ba?
Sus, di na tayo nun eh.
Abante ka na.
Namamaalam,
July 8th, 2011 at 11:54
Now that unrequited objects of affection are included, I might as well write this down.
===========
Dear N (as in “not your real name”):
I should’ve known that something was up when you sent me a Friend Request on Facebook with a personal message saying, “Oh my God, it’s HER!”
Let’s face it, we all make mistakes. In your case, it was the ridiculous array of shorts worn with polo shirts tucked into your waistband. In my case, it was the year I spent pining for you between 6th and 7th grade, when I hung on to every word that came out of your mouth because they were gospel to me.
I don’t have many insults left to throw at you, but I meant it when I said that I ruined your life. And yours wasn’t the only life that was ruined, either.
All that trouble I went for you, to make you like me – yes, between the ages of 12 and 13 – all that was time wasted that I should’ve spent on other things, like homework, or soccer, or theater. Anything, to distract me from the fact that I liked the concept of having a boyfriend better than I actually liked you. You just happened to be there. You + my hormones + your “availability” compared to the hot guys in my other classes = surefire recipe for disaster.
I’m not going to give you a laundry list of all the other reasons why I needed you to be my boyfriend at age 12. But I will tell you this right now, though:
Back then my theme song with you was “Right Here Waiting,” which was the first and only song we’ve ever slow danced to back in the day. Now, looking back on the kind of (imaginary) relationship that I had with you, I might as well have changed it to “Love The Way You Lie.”
Don’t ask me why I haven’t deleted you from Facebook yet. You’re still the one who made the first move.
Next time? There won’t even be a next time.
– S.
ps. You were not even hot to begin with, to be honest with you. And twenty years after the fact, you’re still not that hot.
July 8th, 2011 at 18:09
Imaginary relationships? Hmn.
—
JD,
I’m sure you don’t remember me.
I always imagined (and still do), that there was something between us. You were so good at making boys fall for you. You taught me a little Spanish, you made me tell you who my local celebrity crushes were, you kept me up all night talking about the summer heat and fish and art, you would wait for me until I get off from my last class during the summer term, you kept on urging me to write that story I was forever plotting, you always told me how much you wanted to stay beside me. And when you got me twisted around your fingers, you told me that you’ve been to South America for nearly two years, that you wanted to pursue your career in medicine elsewhere, that you have a tendency to leave all the boys that you were able to make happy (your exact words), that you felt that fate is always pulling you away from the people that you love (the same words), that you finally had to admit that you love me (still the same), that you’re leaving for London in a week (fuck you). Cruel, selfish prick.
June 6, 2005. I wanted to say goodbye, I wanted to talk about the possibility of a long-distance relationship, but you were busy packing and you could not be bothered to discuss such matters. But you wanted us to meet soon, and how soon is soon, I had no idea. Three nights after, I received a phone call. I missed it. I was asleep then.
Country code 0044. UK. London.
I tried to call back. Just say hello, thanks. You never answered. I tried again and again at different times of the day. Still no answer.
I know no one from UK, but it might not have been you after all.
And the sad part is, I’ve been waiting. Maybe even still waiting.
Word about your career. Your whereabouts. Even your death.
A
July 8th, 2011 at 21:04
Hoy,
Oo ikaw. O ayan ha, di na English. Sana naman basahin mo na. Alam ko nakukulitan ka na.Kung ako na nga lang eh naasar na sa sarili ko.
Natatandaan ko naman yung kasunduan sa Bagumbayan.Yun nga lang eh, masyado yata akong natuwa sa mga hirit mong nakakakabag. Di ba nga, hindi ko matingnan yung mukha mo ng hindi ako natatawa. Kahit hindi ka naniniwala, compliment yun. Dati kaya mo kong patawanin na parang wala ng bukas.
Huwag kang mag-alala, hindi ako magpapaka-Glenn Close. Hindi ka naman si Michael Douglas. Tska hindi ako marunong magluto ng rabbit.
Oo na. Gets ko na. Tapos na. Pwedeng wag akong madaliin sa pagmove-on?
Tinanong mo ako dati kung ano yung regrets ko. Sabi ko wala. Kung ngayon mo ako tatanungin may maisasagot na ako. Regret ko?
Ikaw.
Hanggang dito na lamang at maraming salamat,
Hindi si Glenn Close
July 8th, 2011 at 22:43
A,
Your word made flesh. Undo my disbelief.
You know where to find me.
D
July 9th, 2011 at 00:15
Dear Former Object of Eyfekshun,
Pareho pala tayo ng gusto, bruha ka! Di ka nagsasabi! Buti na lang hindi naging tayo bago nagkaalaman. (Possessive pa naman ako sa mga pampaganda ko.)
BTW, kahit magmaganda ka, mas maganda pa rin ako sa’yo. :P
Werr… Hindi naman talaga ako galit. Sana lang naging trulabels ka simula pa lang, maiintindihan ko naman. Kahit hindi kita naging BF, okay lang maging BFF ka.
Trulili,
Your ex-chuvaness
P.S. Nanood ka nung concert ni Kylie no? Bakit hindi ka nag-aya?!
July 9th, 2011 at 01:13
Hey Sexy Boy!
I really hated you the night i slapped you while you were lying naked on the couch after we had sex… after i went to the bathroom and saw a Q-tip with mascara and your white towel with streaks of mascara on it. I don’t wear make-up, and neither do you. That was the last straw. And slapping you felt really, really good (bet you never saw that coming, huh??) even if the price i paid for it were bruises on my arm and my face, you shoving me out the door, and calling me bitch.
You denied her for months and months, even after i found tampon wrappers in your trash (i dont use tampons!!! and neither should you!!). Now you say you’re in love but it didnt start out that way, and that we shouldn’t point fingers but just try to be mature about it cause we “can still have sex and stuff”, after all. So all the time you were with me, telling me “this is mine forever, you’re not going anywhere, never try to leave me” … you were doing her in our bed, keeping me around as a spare tire in case things didnt work out??
I put up with all your shit!!! I should’ve had you arrested that night in Vegas when you hit me so hard my left eye swelled up instantly, when you tried to choke me on the bed, when you put your hand on my mouth to keep me from yelling and i couldnt breathe and i ended up with cuts and bruises on the inside of my cheeks and lips, when you slammed my head on the floor and pulled my hair so hard i had knots and cuts on my head for weeks. I shouldve told the cops everything!!! instead i just kept saying “nothing happened officer”.
I’m not bitter…much. What goes around comes around. The irony of it all is, I just realized that night when i slapped you and finally decided to leave your sick and twisted ass was the night you got me pregnant. Yeah, it’s yours asshole, Im 2 months along. Oh, you’re going to sue for custody? What court will grant a man custody of a child who beats its mother, gets drunk daily and has several DUI’s, is verbally abusive and violent? And good luck trying to find me and MY baby. You will never know the joy of fatherhood because you dont deserve it. I dont hate you anymore, you’re not worth the effort. You probably hate yourself much more than i ever could.
Me
July 9th, 2011 at 18:02
dear ex,
i know words aren’t enough to say how sorry i am for hurting your feelings and breaking your heart.. I know it was selfish.. but it would be more painful to stay in a one sided relationship..
i did not broke up with you for him. there was no third party.. I just wanted to be free.. I just wanted to be myself again cause with you somehow I’ve lost my identity..
i know in time, all scars will heal.. I’m still here for you, if you’ll let me.. I’m really sorry.. :(
~ hebe
July 9th, 2011 at 23:54
Hayop,
Bilang pag diriwang ng pag hihiwalay natin dinadala ko ang aso mo sa apartment mo, kaso ayaw tangapin ng dhl at lbc kaya pinira piraso ko na lang siya at nilagay sa supot, wag ka mag alala binabad ko naman sa suka at paminta at personal na dinala.
Ibinilin ko sa bago mong kinakasama na ilagay sa freezer at samahan ng itlog bago i serve sayo.
Ex
July 11th, 2011 at 09:01
dear x,
Hi! ok naman ako. oo kakausapin pa din kita kaso hindi kita tutulungang mag-hack ng email address ng ex mo. ano ka sinuswerte? gumanti ka sa kanya kung gusto mo pero huwag mo akong idamay..