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Elena


“Someday, I will be proud of myself”

My name's Elena, but it's alright to address me any name that suits you. I'm a Registered Nurse in the Philippines and in the United States of America. Currently waiting for a miracle so I can finally work in the west. Being a couch potato and drowning myself in books are some of my likes while anything-pork and futile people are my dislikes.

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When we were still friends
Wednesday, January 16, 2013 • 11:18 PM • 0 comments



The reason for my usual frown is you. Whenever we get together, it's inevitable not to think how and why we have ever drifted apart. We used to be so close, and then out of the blue you just shut me out. It would have been okay (not that okay) if like I've actually done something offending for you to do that. It started in our first year of college. This would be really less of a hassle for me if i knew the reason behind your abrupt avoidance of me or having no interest in having anything to do with me. But no, you leave me hanging with that feeling that we stlll are friends when in fact, I can't even tell that we are. Whenever we get together with some of our friends I am very grateful for them they are there and it lessens a little bit of awkwardness between the two of us. This may seem futile but I really wish we'd talk about this because i miss you, but it seems like it's a one-way street like you don't feel the same and i can understand that. And i understand that you've found a new set of friends now and you feel like you could care less about me but I just want you to know that I miss us. I miss our friendship. I miss it when we could hang out together -jut the two of us- and it was mever ever awkward. I miss those times when we had legit fun. When we considered each other real and close friends. I miss when I'd come over to your house unannounced and no one would question because we were close...that's what close friends do. I sincerely wish our friendship didn't have to be like this...to end up like this. This stress is making me emotional.


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