1

Do I still fit? Do you?

2

So many things that I have learned from your faces in a span of an hour. There is evidence of wear and tear, love lost and then found in no man's arms but in a child's wet kiss. Minutes when I had to bury my face in my hands, wondering where you are now, asking the perpetual how has life been treating you? question.

Once. I laughed out loud because of your rendition of how to hold a chicken. Then I stop because I remember that everyone in this house is still asleep.

3

I see you sitting on a beach with friends whom I do not know. It would've been a nice picture, if it weren't for that exasperating pose: your backs turned to the camera, a hint of a smile on someone's face accidentally turning sideways. Explain to me why, in 500 words or less, it is fashionable to have your picture taken on a beach in such a manner. Are you ashamed of how you would look under the mad dashes of light? How it can expose the years, all stretched and yawning on your once bright face?

4

Many of you have children now. I find that astounding, the way I'd find a school of yellow fish walking on the street using their small, flippery tails astounding.

I am not ready to have children. I fear that I will not make a good mother because I am too tolerant, too liberal. I do not know which is greater: my fear of not having any or actually having some (or one).

But you, you've all done it. Wows all around.

5

Two years ago, we were eating ice cream. I was sitting on the sidewalk and you were standing up and yapping about some fight you had with your boyfriend. I hope you remember that afternoon. I hope that last year, in the middle of that Jollibee party, you remembered me. I am imagining you telling your husband, I wish she were here. And he would instantly know who it was you were talking about.

Mirth is what I feel, knowing that your tongue is still as sharp as it ever was. You tag a picture: My Husband the Pig. I hope you are speaking metaphorically and with a lot of humor. Else, I shall worry.

6

I recognize now that we could have been good friends. It surprises me, how many books you've read that I have also. We listen to the same type of music. I'm sorry that you had a bitch of a friend who kept us apart. I see that the wicked witch has built a thicket around your heart. I'm sorry about that senseless fight we had. I don't even remember what it was about. You've grown so interesting over the years. When you wear that kind of shirt, your breasts stand out, like ripe plums. Pardon the French. (I am half in love with you. Sue the establishment.)

7

How would you like me to remember you by, I asked you then. You said, I want you to remember the way we sat singing in the park some random afternoon.

Forgive me, I've grown into a grandma overnight. Your kid looks very healthy, as if you've manually packed him with all nutrients known to man. His cheeks have a slight shimmer to them, as if someone smeared Vasoline on his face. If my Vaseline-theory were true, I know that it would not have been your doing. You're humorous in a different, lazy kind of way.

Here's a secret: I remember most of all that first day. You were reading a newspaper on top of a flight of stairs leading to the Animal Science Department. I assumed you were a freshman; I asked you, Where is History I? And you said, Here, gesturing at the empty space beside you.

This is not all. This is not all.

8

I'm happy you already have someone. You deserve my exact opposite.

9

When I was in college, I found you very pretty. Your haircut does nothing for your doe eyes. In pictures, you look like that dancer, the one who writes all that trumped up poetry and never really dances anymore, no, never.

10

These spaces are ones you've put out yourself. Have a good life.

11

One of your captions read: Smile! Mi Amore! Your happiness is the swooning kind, which is forgiveable, really, since you are in the city of love.

Remember the salads your mother used to make us? Where is she now?

12

You left my brother for him? Yergh.

13

This is so you:

"someone, simply. someone worth meeting the first time, so we could look forward to doing so again."

14

It's morning. The dawn is nothing new; let's not overdo descriptions about it. It is simply what it is: a play of light, a good time to remember.

(Yes, I won't be deleting my old account anymore. I have to confess that I've been holding on to it for the longest time because I met you through it. We are an online romance! We are a cliche! Friendster is fiendish. Amen.)