Something has to stick

"Hey!" Eena said. I returned the greeting.

"I had to buzz you," she explained. "I saw you in Google. Well, I mean I stumbled upon your blog, and then I saw my name!"

"Like, finally," I said, attempting to be irreverent again. Then again, it's been a while since I started writing about our trivial classmate stories, about that unlikely friendship that started with literature class where I ended up sharing my first crazy encounters with college crushes, and perhaps beyond. Quite a lot has happened since then, although we've met quite a handful of times after that, notably as classmates in yet another literature class. Still, I had to push it.

"After two years. Two years, Eena!"

And then I wondered. "What entry was this?"

"It was the Julia and Alfredo story," she explained. "I think that was Valentine's?"

Already snapped out of my drowsiness, I decided to track the entry down and read it. Yes, it was those times when we felt our class was moving slower than anticipated, which meant we were getting too immersed with Dead Stars, and Julia and Alfredo and all that it meant. On the second paragraph, images flashed on my head - of me seated on the bus, in the middle of the evening rush hour, sending Eena a hypothetical can-we-go-on-a-date text message, actually giggling as if it meant everything, and then getting her unexpectedly prompt response that inevitably got immortalized then. And so it will today.

"...that's nice, but this Julia has found her Alfredo."

It's been two years, which meant that within that time frame I already purged myself of anything related to Kizia. I was a freshman then, and very innocent about the world. I had the penchant to freak out whenever I see Ale, a fact that Lau gently reminded me, to my amusement, four terms later. I even forgot what exactly we were talking about. Perhaps I was too comfortable with the stickers I got from Miss Wright, or the satisfaction I get with answering a lot of questions intelligibly, or maybe I was getting distracted with Eena's piercing stare. I don't know anymore.

Fast forward to October of this year, and I found myself talking to Mon about how things have changed. We usually talk about change, especially when we end up looking at old photographs and realizing how bad we looked. I still had bushy hair, and I still didn't know how to smile. (Now I have this big, toothy smile that made Zet seem very composed in comparison.) She didn't like the way she looked, although the only difference I noticed was the hair. In the end, we wondered why we got so close to each other, and despite many attempts pointing out a cause, we couldn't.

The same can be said about Eena, although the fact that we were classmates in a class populated with business majors made things a bit less confusing. Apart from that, well, we ended up finding things common between us two, although back then I didn't give a fuss about it. She was a seatmate I had to be friendly to, a gesture that was thankfully reciprocated - and who would've known that thought mattered two years after?

The night before, Marielle and I were chatting, initially about a common favorite, and later about song lyrics, and later, about similarities. You guessed it right, blog fanatic. "Life wouldn't be that interesting if we all showed each other that we're the same," she said. "The differences are what attract us to each other, but the sameness is what connects us."

"Besides, I'm too cynical for most," Eena later said as she explained why she prefers to keep an offline journal rather than an online one.

"Talk about cynicism," I answered. "I've not changed, really. I'm still as cynical romantically as I was [before]." And then I started writing, not expecting her to answer back, and as I became supposedly inspired with another way of telling the same story, it struck me that it's precisely the reason why we feel things at one point. Maybe eventually dismiss them as nothing more than fluff soon.

And your responses...

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