I have more paper works to do, books to read and probably a lot of exercises and problems to solve because unfortunately our midterm week’s not yet over. But here I am, feeling miserable and nostalgic at the same time for the same stupid reason I’ve been bearing for the last three years. Three years, it is. My mother would probably scold at me if she sees me not doing anything or even reviewing for my exams. But what the heck, this was what I’m always good at, bleeding through pages every word that’s meant for you and you wouldn’t even know. I was always good at hiding my emotions. I was always good at ignoring you in person and never got to talk first. And yet, I’m bluntly saying what I’ve felt for you like saying those fucking three words you thought I did out of habit when everytime I’d tell you those words, it scares the hell out of me. I was afraid that the person I’m loving today is the same person I could lose and the hardest part was loving him still despite of it all.