I miss walking on my way to school; since I know I’ll be a little bit early, I enjoy every second of it while I see people rushing because they’re probably running late for work.

I miss the idea of exchanging notes; love notes for that matter. I always made sure I give my special someone at least once a month. Sometimes I even give him one everyday. I like the way his face lit up whenever I hand him those ones that are filled with stickers and are scented. I don’t know why, or is it just that I forgot the reason why I suddenly stopped doing that.

I miss eating dirty ice cream in a bun, those that costs 10 or 15 pesos, which I’d always choose over a regular or standard meal. It’s cheap, tasty and leaves me full every time.

I miss playing street games; piko, Chinese garter, ten-twenty, tumbang preso, patintero, matayataya. I miss watching everyone laughing their asses off without worrying how their hair, clothes and face look after basking under the sun.

I miss walking around, his hands locked into mine, and without talking, we enjoy each other’s company and go home with a smile.

I miss those days wherein everyone is trying to get stuff from or to their locker during dismissal time; it’s fun to see how much effort one exerts just to reach his locker which is 3 or 4 units below his eye level.

I miss receiving flowers; especially those spur of the moment ones wherein I am sincerely surprised why I got them. But of course, I really appreciate them during my birthday of Valentines Day.

–and speaking of Valentines Day, I was one of those girls who always receive something during that day. A bear, chocolates, letter or flowers; and whoever gave it/them to me is probably my guy.

I miss watching movies, just for the heck of it; Boredom? Extra money? Or maybe an excuse to spend more time together. I’d like to think it’s because of the last one.

I miss having the pleasure of having worry-free time. I could do anything I want, and not to worry about anything.

I miss being happy; or at least, the efforts I used to exert to be happy. Gone are the days that I could just jump into things, and be perfectly fine whatever outcome it could have. Each step I make is quickly followed by worries, doubts and fears. What if it goes wrong? What if I screw things up? What if I can’t fix it? In order to avoid the unwanted nightmares, I don’t even dare to dream anymore. How did I lose the passion to live a life?

And I’m totally aware I’m missing out, which is kind of worse.