I’m in need of a miracle

How I hate false hope. How I hate it when I anticipate something wonderful, or look forward to a completely blissful time, only to have those dreams shattered. And when that does happen, there’s nothing left to do but for me to pick up the broken pieces and to face the harsh reality of the situation. I feel…disillusioned. I feel…cheated. How could he do this to me?? Oh, cruel world! *proceeds to the nearest tall building to hurl herself down the highest floor*

You know how I said we wouldn’t be having school tomorrow because of the World Meeting of Families? Well, guess what? We do. Now this should be made illegal: some government bastard declaring that there aren’t any classes, and then changing his mind about it at the very last minute. How absolutely, positively cruel! Inhuman! Did he not realize how many gimmicks he had just ruined? Just when I already had plans of staying up late and waking up late and rotting in front of the PlayStation2 the entire day! Did you know that I was even invited to this party tonight, the 19th birthday party of one of my (more popular) batchmates? (I swear, I cannot imagine myself a high school senior at the age of nineteen.) My friends and I were planning to go if there wouldn’t be any school tomorrow. But noooo. Some stupid-ass senator or someone like it just had to cancel that and despoil our illusions of a night-long party, and then a lazy Thursday afterwards, far far away from school. Just thinking about it…AHHH! How could he do this to us?? How could he?

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School was otherwise uneventful. I mean that literally–for some reason, my teachers keep vanishing into the unknown and not showing up for class. We hardly had lessons, and we hardly did anything. One of the guys from the play left his guitar in our classroom and then somebody had these bongo drums. We messed around with them all day. A couple of people were surprised to know that I play guitar. Naturally I played nothing for them, but I did ask someone to teach me a couple of cool songs she knows. I can never play decently in front of anyone. In my room all alone–I’m great. But whenever I have an audience, my fingers don’t know where to go and I just downright suck. I think it’s called stage fright.

Oh, and right when I went out of the classroom for something during the middle of the day, I felt someone smack my butt. I turned around and saw that it was Michelle, sitting on the floor beside the classroom door.

“Pumasa ka pala sa Ateneo (You made it to Ateneo),” she said with a small smile.

“Uh-huh. You only knew now?”

She nodded. “Grabe, I hate you! I really wanted to go to Ateneo!” She said the “I hate you” part lightly, without anger, but she was covering the lower half of her face with some papers she was holding and I think I saw tears in her eyes.

Not knowing what else to say to her, I kind of gave her a smile and walked away.