Six years is a long time.

...there was once a girl I was in love with for six years. That's about 1/4 the time I've been on this plane of existence, and that's about 10% of the average lifespan a guy is suppose to have on this planet(60 years). Six is also the number of years since the bells inside have stopped tolling for her, and the number of days ago since she got married.

I got the news a little over a week before the official date from my elder brother who was sorta pairing me up with her(an idea he and her brother were playing around with way back when). I wonder if he even ever knew that I really did like her anyway. He adds, "...palahubog raba(the guy's a drunkard)". I didn't really react much to it when I heard it. I found my nonreaction weird, and later on, quite sad too. I mean, here was the girl i could sense was in a room even before my eyes would confirm it, a girl whose most mundane actions and personal details would effortlessly be burnt into my memory, and one who could effectively take away my abilty of speech and all the other silliness on a level that to this day is unsurpassed by any other. And now, zilch! zero! nada, nyet!

I guess I would have wanted to feel a bit sad about it. I think it isn't a good thing when you realize you could actually walk away from things like that or let things die out and fade away eventually to meaninglessness. It's too much control...too much power...too cold.

I'm not making sense...so anyway...

Six is a rather infamous number, especially since it's usually associated with the Devil. From what I know, this is because God's number is 7. And six will always mean it was close to perfect but not quite there. Almost but never. Incomplete. Lacking. I'm not alluding that she reminds me of demons...haha, no. But what I am trying to say is that, by far...nevermind.

I've already given my goodbye a long time ago. Let's leave it at that.

....

"The best love affairs are those we never had." -Norman Lindsay