Cureless

The other time I got my grades, I thought I would be at peace after knowing that I haven’t failed any subject (meaning, I saved my scholarship). But I forgot I did something really evil (again) during the last week of the semester.

I started to render service, since we’re required to work at offices to maintain the scholarship for 10 hours per semester, only during the later part of the sem. I was only able to have my work card signed for 1 hour of service, plus the guidance interview, making it 2 hours. I didn’t have time to visit more offices and work since everyone is having a hard time with the hell week.

Guess what I did? I forged random signatures on the work card just to fill up the void hours needed. See how evil I am? (to think this wasn’t the worst thing I’ve done in school, non-academically) Ouch!

And so when I consulted the admission office (that’s where we verify the scholarship matters before doing the actual registration) I was really in turmoil after seeing a 50% TF mark on my reg paper, whereas, it should be 100% since I’m totally dependent on my benefactor in terms of my tuition and fees.

I did proceed to the next stop in the office, pretending not to be nervous. Whew! They gave me back my work card! As if nothing happened. Thank goodness! So I went back to the first stop and inquired about that 50% and the officer-in-charge had just made a mistake… a BIG WHEW!

Haha… I did THAT! But I don’t think I will ever do that again. Believe me, my friends know me for these kind of misadventures.

During my less-than-a-week stay in my hometown, I *insert line here*

• Saw my long-lost highschool buddy who’s a vetmed student at UPLB.
• Talked to Pepeng, my friendly neighborhood friend, who worked in Laguna.
• Ate Jap (again) with Shaw-shaw.
• Talked with Harold - my gay gradeschool bestfriend!
• And lastly - chika with Jovita, another childhood friend who’s now retaking her 3rd course at a college in Legazpi.

I was shocked by what that girl revealed to me. Right now, I still don’t know how to put in words exactly how I feel about her situation. She didn’t tell me directly but from what I interpreted about her stories about her friends “sleeping around” or (sorry for the term) “fucking around”, of course, what comes to me is that she does what her friends do. During our conversation, I tried to be mature enough to understand what she told me.

From the conversation I started about Ragnarok (and how I became addicted to it that I used to spend time until 1 a.m. at the internet cafe to play), we arrived at “the things” she witnessed about her friends. (You see, I’m still not very open to talk about it.) And how did it happen? She told me she even stays until 4 a.m. at the caf to access porn materials. She’s not even used to calling porn “porn”. She uses the term “bold” instead. I wondered why could they access them when they don’t have credit cards yet. She told me there’s a private room intended for these activites at the caf. They could watch “live shows” streamed on the internet and record them on cd.

That was the second time that day that I learned about a “private room” at an internet caf. The first one was when I read a newspaper report about these cafes in Cagayan de Oro. I’m still shocked. I couldn’t believe what I heard. In a province like Bicol? A city like Legazpi? How was that possible when even here in Manila, I haven’t heard a single bit about that damned thing?

Then our talk slowly darted to watching porn and doing porn… and drugs. Uff…

I’m sad. I’m distressed about my friend’s situation. But she doesn’t know how I feel. During that time, I showed her maturity, like I’m used to all those talks, to let her know I respect her and her choice. But I don’t want that for her. Her family, obviously, doesn’t know about what she does.