I’ve been sick for the past week. Fighting a bad cough and beating a fever. I think I’ve drank a gallon of Robitussin. Nevertheless, I’ve still worked and concepted when I wasn’t feeling woosy or sleeping. I missed out on one of my best friends’ weddings because I suddenly became bombarded with school business and involved in painting the future of my school as we know it. I’ve been very busy. And very sad.

My birthday is next week. And coincidentally, it’s the six month death anniversary of my dad. We’re having a memorial mass in his honor. Leave it up to Filipinos to celebrate death like it was a birthday. I’m afraid that the mourning will come back to me, when all this time I’ve tried to move on from his death. I’m afraid that I’ll relive all the grief again, when in fact it should be a day for me. Perhaps I’m being selfish.

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