Amidst the rattling of the vehicle, a girl remained sound asleep inside the car. Her hair, tangled on intricate webs and her body, fragile. She sat in a distorted manner, one foot clipped to her side and the other foot dangling on the side of her seat. Her head bobbing rhythmically to the bumps the car take on each curve.

Beside her, another girl – probably a year younger – jerked awake from her slumber. She looked at her sleeping friend and smiled.

“She fell asleep too. I’m surprised. She talked to me as if we’re close friends during high school.”

The frail girl seemed to hear her. She raised her head and looked outside the window. It was starting to drizzle. The raindrops nestled like needles on the glass windows.

“What time is it?” the frail girl asked.

“Time to buy your own watch.”

“Har har. Very funny. Seriously, we’ve been traveling for ages. I saw rice fields before I fell asleep. And now, still more rice fields.”

“Funny hearing that from you. You were talking before you fell asleep, and now, you’ve been awake for just a minute and then you start talking again.”

“I don’t talk that much. You know that.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m letting you talk as long as you want.”

The frail girl looked at her and then she slumped down on her seat. Silence.

She looked outside the windows again. The drizzle has stopped and the outline of the moon can be seen from behind the clouds. The moon sailed soulfully away from the mass of lumpy clouds. A blurred plate hanging from the windows of heaven.

“The moon is bleeding.” the frail girl muttered.

The younger girl looked at her. “I think it’s beautiful. Rarely would you see a moon in red tinge.”

“I don’t want to see the moon in red. It brings a lot of melancholic memories.” She looked at her friend, “You want to hear why?”

“Err… Well…”

“Okay, it doesn’t matter, I’ll tell it to you anyway…”

The younger girl laughed. She then reached out for her bag and started looking for something.

The frail girl kept talking to herself.

“… back when I was sixteen, I enjoy looking at the night sky. Actually, even before that. When I was little, I’ve always loved astronomy…”

She found what she was looking for: a pair of earphones.

“… my dad taught me about astronomy and mythology… I really liked the moon above all. It’s something special. I like the way it glows… it reminds me of faked emotions. Like a lady smiling even if she really feels like crying… The moon is very mysterious.”

“Err.. okay. Uh, you won’t mind it if I listen to my player would you?” the other girl asked.

“Yeah…”

The younger girl switched on her player and the music flowed out her ears. She adjusted the volume so she’d still be able to hear her friend.

“we’re not that close back in high school, noh? Well, I don’t really like high school… I can’t wait for college actually… and I think college didn’t disappoint me… or so I think… but before that, let me tell you about my close circle of friends…”

“Sure, sure. Go on.”

“…we’re close friends… well, we didn’t really started out that close… it just started one night, when the moon was red, like tonight… we were one of the youngest people in class… both of us, still sixteen… we share a lot of commonalities… smart-alecks, too proud for their own good, etcetera… it’s no surprise to see us together… so, it all started during a program in school… it ended late… the moon is unusually red… for the first time, I didn’t feel problematic… we were walking on the grounds when we saw the moon… and then, we stopped walking… we just stared at it for a long time… that night, when I came home, I thought about her… on how God must have planned out everything to happen… she did not fail me as a friend… she was the first one who appreciated me… I know that I have a lot of flaws, but she shook it aside and loved me as me… cliche-ic you might think, but that is really how it is…”

Silence.

“Ah, so why do you fell melancholic now?”

Hush. More silence.

“I guess, the best things really don’t last long…”

She stared at the confused look on the younger girl’s face then looked out the window again to see the now-faint-colored moon being engulfed by the gray clouds around it.

This reading is taken from my journal notebook.

“As a child, I was trained to be happy and contented. Given stones or diamonds, both ways, I’d be happy. I was taught to write all the things I like in a notebook. Then, I would crash out those things that I have lost liking to. Usually, at the end of the month, the pages of the notebook wold be tattered from all the scratching out and erasures. It was only now that I realized that my grandmother has taught me the notion of “dwindling marginal utility” way before my first Economics subject in college.

Yes, I grew up learning that virtue. Something only few people could ever learn and LIVE WITH. Learning that YOU CAN NEVER have all that you want. And that, you MUST NOT GET all that you want because there are a lot of people who NEED it more than you can WANT it.

Maybe I am just providing reasons for my laxity, but then again, maybe not. I cried while throwing away the “coins” for “excelling in school” because truth be known, I miss walking on the stage, receiving medals, and topping the class. I want to excel. But I am happy and contented with my grades. I know, I know. I do not lift a finger to study, I cut shred class, I’m freezing my eyebrows, and I’m living the Juan Tamad life, but I still get good grades. Maybe not the pre-defined “good” that my parents used to get. But it’s not bad. And I’m happy with that. Until, of course, today.

I realized that, yes, I’m happy. But I CAN BE HAPPIER. There are things I want that I do not pursue. Actually, if I only WANT to DO SO, I can do EVERYTHING. It’s just that, I’m afraid to take risks. Especially for myself.

I do not give myself the chance to be happier. Because I am scared.

Courage. I don’t have it. And it’s funny how I endured nineteen years of existence without having that up my sleeve. Or maybe, the safety and security that my family and friends provide me compensate for my lack of courage.

But then again, I realized that I have to make myself move. I have to learn how to be HAPPIER. I have to STEP OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE. Because I know, even if I’m a foot away from them, they would always watch for me and help me stand up in case I trip on my own feet.

Fear is what hinders people in achieving their dreams. Fear of failing. Fear of not being good enough. There are those brave enough to chase after their ambitions, but some of them give up even before attaining their dreams. They stumble, they trip, they fall down. And then, they get scared of standing up again. Some are afraid of settling for less than what they wanted that’s why they set the parameters that are easier to reach. They are scared to be “ambitious”.

As I look at it, there are no such thing as “being ambitious”. After all, it is normal to desire or want something. Dreams can be fulfilled. Dreams are meant to be fulfilled. As Kokoi puts it, dreams come to us. Stars fall. Maybe not now, but eventually, they will. All we have to do is wait patiently and be prepared to catch them when they fall.

Waiting for the stars to fall is not easy. The night is dark and the wind is cold. We have to fight back the fear so as to last until morning. We have to fill up our heart with courage. Like a dank room being lit up by one small candle.

Speaking of candles. Have you ever wondered why candles exist? Even with today’s age of light bulbs and neon lights, there would always be candles for people. Isn’t it amazing how a little candle could give a sense of comfort and warmth?

Seeing this room, with the lights turned off and candles scattered all across the floor, gives an unexplainable feeling of calmness and joy. I see Kim staring at the candle instead of writing. Maybe Justin is finished with his journal because he is playing with the candle. And as I look at my candle, candlewax sprawled over the rim of the glass and flames flickering against the dark, I knew.

We enjoy looking at candles because it reflects the gentleness of our souls. The meekness and humility of our spirit.

The candle melts not because it is on fire. But rather, because it holds the fire. It melts as it gives out light. It melts as it fulfills its purpose. A candle is not a candle if it would stay the same amidst burning throughout the night.

In its melting and giving of itself for the help of others, its value and essence is shown.”

Thanks for reading, my precious candle. =)

Back when I was a child, I often dreamt of wishing wells, fairies dancing in the moonlight, pirates aboard an old ship, and wagons flying into the vast purple-tinged night sky. I once believed that the moon is made of cheese and that finding the fountain of youth will grant you a life beyond end. I always believed in magic and fairy tales where the main protagonist lives happily ever after. I believed that if I just kept on hoping, maybe I will live forever too. But then, reality woke me up from my dreams. It showed me the way of the world. Reality taught me that life is not about dreams. Life is all about making things happen.
So, I decided to wave at my inner child goodbye and stood up to follow the course of the real world. But even if I followed the flow of realism, I still dream. I dream and I make it happen. I still have more dreams to fulfill, so it will be quite a shock if I will learn that I only have one week more left in my life.But then again, I realized that I AM already fulfilling my dreams. The dreams I have with me now are mere extensions of my hopes. I may not be living the perfect life but I am contented with what I have now. I have my fair share of life’s ups and downs and I have my family and friends with me. I do not think I have to ask for something more – because as I see it, I already have the best.So, for the seven remaining days of life, I will live it like any ordinary week. I will still do the same routine and I will try as much as possible not to let others know that it will be my last days with them. I will spend more time with my family. I will do the things I usually do – I’d still listen to the everyday sermons of my grandmother and I will still be the one to wash the dishes. I will continue telling my sister that she is smart and beautiful and that I love her – and that she should be proud of what she is. I’d still argue with my younger brothers on which channel to watch, then we’d wrestle with one another and end up laughing on the couch. I’ll tell my mother again that even if I grew up with my grandmother, she is still the world’s greatest mom. I’d still talk to my dad as if he is just near me, and I will tell him that we will see each other soon.

I will talk to my friends like the way I use to talk to them. I want them to remember me in my last days just the way I am. I will still hug them, but this time, it would be tighter. I will ask them if they still remember my password in Friendster and my other internet accounts so that they can check it every now and then. We are so used on talks like these that I know they’d just shrug their shoulders and then go back on laughing at my silly bangs again.

I’d still hang out at the Webteam office, still visit the ADDU and MPDU forums, still subscribe to Globe Unlimited Texting. I’d still poke fun at Steven and his incredulous ‘lovelife’, still ask Ray for PhotoShop tips, still put my bag on Andrew’s table, and still dream with Karla. I’d still have arguments with Harvey and I will still tease Millie. I’d still laugh with Kokoi, goof around with Chloe, share stories with Ann, procrastinate with Jeng, be Kim’s ‘squishy’, and I’ll sleep one last time at Paola’s house. I’d still raise my hand on Ma’am Montojo’s Philo 103 class and maybe, for a change, I’ll be early for our film viewings with Sir Cayas and I’ll try to stay awake in Sir Nap’s class.

I’d still pray, still paint, still write, still blog, still play my guitar, still throw in corny lines, still talk, still tell stories, still catch raindrops, still count the stars, still drink gallons of coffee, still smile, still laugh, still dream – for life IS a dream. I’d still LIVE.

I know I need not to worry about people forgetting me, because the moment you leave a mark on one person’s life, is the beginning of your immortality. And I think I have left enough imprints of myself to the world. I want them to remember me as me, not on my last days, but on how I really am on my lifetime.

I will live life as it is, with no worries until the end.

Because, after all, that is the essence of life – not living the worries – but rather living the moment.

I am supposed to be doing an assignment about Indian History right now. But I can’t find my notebook. Everything is in it! My notes, my assignments, my doTa tips! Waaaah! My doTa tips. Karla was telling me to calm down. That she would help me find it tomorrow. But… I feel so worried. It’s like losing a limb.

I feel like losing my mind. Many things happened in the past few days. Petty quarrels, prank texters, stupid pick-up lines spreading on cps, the annoyingly lame EDERLYN messages, and stupid major EXAMS!

I used to love rainy seasons. But now it’s driving me crazy. Harvey told me not to question God’s choice of weather, but isn’t this supposed to happen last December? It’s ironic that the sun turned the country into one giant oven last Yuletide season, and now it’s somewhere behind the clouds, probably taking a slumber after its tiring job. I hate going to school during rainy days. I find it irritating to carry an umbrella and wear heavy jackets everyday. And Nature’s Best is another reason why. I’ve been digging this Hazelnut Coffee Shake lately. I think I’d change my name to moronic. This day, I gulped a liter of that ice-cold beverage while it’s raining cats and dogs. Result: Slow reflexes and brainfreeze. I got my exam grade at Scooby Doo’s class. It’s dangerously low. And I’M NOT EVEN WORRIED!

Until now.

I really think something is missing in my life. I’ve been thinking hard about it for quite a long time. And now I’ve figured.

It’s DIRECTION.

Looking at the same stretch of beach clad with trees and shrubs, no one would have thought about all the changes it has surpassed for the past seventeen years. The wind still whistles the same tune; the air still have the distinct smell of freshly picked roses; the purple night sky is still powdered with the same stars I once wished upon; and the cottages that dot the sandy shoreline still stands.

I took a rest on one of those wind-torn shacks and sniffed the tangy afternoon air. The ambience was perfect for reminiscing. I was on the brink of reviving my past experiences when my eyes caught something on the sand beneath my feet. Why, it was a husk of bottle caps! I seized one and held it up on eye-level. A bubble of joy swelled inside my heart. Some child probably left it there. So, kids nowadays still play with bottle crowns? A smile curled upon my lips as memories of my childhood years came gushing in. I used to collect and flatten them out with a stone; pound it evenly so that it would be as flat as a pancake. Then, I would challenge the older kids to game of tansan.

I laid the bottle cap and picked a stone. Not as small as a pebble but something rather huge to fit in my palm. I found the perfect ‘pestle’; a rough, grayish-eyed sedimentary rock that is the size of a small gourd.

POG! POG! POG!

I smashed the side of the poor bottle cap. The name of the soda brand fading with every pound… The rhythmic beating blended harmoniously with the twittering of the birds. The sound felt so familiar that I felt like I’ve been drawn back to the pages of yesterday.

POG! POG! POG!

I stared unblinkingly at a child who looked not a day older than seven. Her hair was held neatly in an elegant French braid; her auburn complexion gleamed in the afternoon sun; and her eyes were like deep pools of coal. She looked strangely familiar.

Drops of sweat ran down her forehead. She was pounding a bottle crown in a choppy manner. The sides of the poor bottle crown were severely pounded on one side and the top was inconsistently battered. Nevertheless, she looked completely satisfied with her work.

She, then, ran to a group of kids and beamed upon them.

“Can I join? I have a bottle crown too!” she squeaked as she showed her dismal toy to her playmates.

A thick air of silence enveloped the children. One finally found her voice and blurted out something.

“Mot, you can join us but you’re going to be the salingpusa.”

I found the remark insulting but it seemed that it made the little girl happy. An innocent smile that reached up to her twinkling eyes escaped from her lips. She ran beside the other kids and started flipping her bottle crown.

It’s a good thing her playmates made her the salingpusa. Her disfigured toy made it impossible for her to flip it properly that she always lose to the other kids. I cannot help wrinkling my nose in disgust. I was about to go and grab the toy when someone sharing my sentiments gently stated:

“Mot. You did it wrong. You’re crown looks like a lump of sodden pudding. Here let me help you.”

An older girl, probably about nine, seized the deformed plaything and pounded it evenly until the surface of the cap was flat. She was teaching the little girl the proper way of bashing the crown. She then handed the crown back to the latter which then piped in gratitude:

“Thank you Nora! Let us be partners! Let’s play against Saima and Gina.”
Nora seemed more than willing to the offer. They played against the other children. It had been a competitive game yet no harsh words were heard from the losing party. Everyone was glad at the consequences of the event. Everyone respected one another.

The scene tugged my heartstrings. It’s funny how these little children were free from the austere pangs of worldly wickedness. The innocence emanating from their eyes are far more valuable than the most recherché hue of amber. If only adults could act this way. If only we could be as carefree and guiltless, then the world would be a better place. No more tear-stricken faces from those who suffer. No more hurting, no more pain. What a bright world it would be –

“MOOOOOT!”

My thoughts were shattered by a shrill cry.

“Mot! You’re grandmother is coming. It seems that you’re supposed to have your siesta but you sneaked out. She looks really angry! I’m scared! I ran here to tell you! Run now. Before she catch us here!”

I recognized the messenger to be Tontong. He was panting heavily; a look of concern etched in his young face. I looked at the little girl and saw the color fade from her visage. She turned to run.

I can see her grandmother from a distance. She was definitely angry. She got hold of the poor girl and started pinching her.

“You naughty little girl! Haven’t I told you to sleep?”

I felt numb all over. I looked at the petrified faces of the children. They were all cowering beneath a tree. I sympathized with their fear. I sensed my knees trembling.

I looked at the little girl. But it seems like I’m seeing her for the first time after ten years. Streams of tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped it with the back of her hand. The bottle crown is still clutched between her fists.

I felt her eyes, MY eyes, burning.

Everything went blurry. Then every single thing faded…

POG! POG! POG!

I looked at the bottle crown I was pounding. It was thoroughly flat. I can now pound evenly. Long gone were the days of lumpy crowns. I dropped the stone and shifted my gaze at the long coastline. Ten years has been quite a long time. Still, the memory is vividly inscribed in my mind. The beach may still look the same but I know many have changed. The sun was finally out from the mass of grey clouds and it sent a radiant glow across the sand.

I learned that Nora had been married two months ago. Saima is now having her first baby. Tontong is currently in Manila, preparing his papers for Dubai. Gina just gave birth to her second child. The others were now, nowhere to be found. My grandmother eventually lost her draconian rigidity. And, that the twittering of the insects replaced the gay laughter that used to fill this place years ago. Gone were my childhood days.

Everything changed.

I looked up at the opalescent sky and wondered whether it is still the same sky that witnessed the colorful passages of my salad years. Maybe the coconut palms that were lining the shore were the mere saplings of the old coconut trees I used to drink buko juice from. I know that the orchids my grandmother used to water every morning had long withered and died.

I grew up. So were the others.

Change is inevitable. Everything becomes different. But, the thoughts that accompany this place will never be erased from memory. They will forever live. As long as the sun still sets beyond the endless horizon. As long as the wind still ruffles the leaves of the towering acacia trees near the house. As long as the waning moon still roams the evening sky. As long as I breathe…

I stood up and walked to our house.

The bottle crown safely tucked inside my fist…

It’s been AGES since I last logged-in. And I really missed blogging.^^

I never knew blogging COULD affect me much. Probably because I already established friendships because of this online journal. And probably because, I can easily say whatever I want here without being interrupted. If they do want to say something, well, the comment box is waiting for them. Haha!

I love the way I’m typing the words now. It’s like my thoughts are automatically turned into words so that I can type it easily.

Gawd. See what happens when a break comes into your daily routine? I missed blogging! But what happened? Friends, it’s all because of this:

1. Have to read the Gilgamesh (again!). T.T
2. Make a Christmas Tree for the RTAS (Reanimating The Ateneo Spirit char2x).
3. Write a Narrative about my boring life.
4. Research about damned Sumerians.
5. Make a chart for Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and Mongolia.
6. Read 26 pages photocopy in International Political Econ.
7. Read Primary and Secondary Reflection for Philo.
8. Start soliciting for the Educational Trip this summer.
9. Recap Termination Treaty between Hungary and Czechoslovakia. (Grr..)
10. Write a hate mail for Scooby Doo. (Justify this: Previous meetings are all about THEORIES and SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT, then he suddenly and left a “seatwork” to be passed after class. The said seatwork is actually a case study that is 17 pages! LONG BOND PAPER! Grr…)

I have done at least half of the list. So I think it’s time to get back from the dead zone. Hehe. And since I have been ABSENT for QUITE a long time, I would like to roll the VTR and flashback on the days gone by…^^

- We went at An’s house last Friday for the Christmas Tree Making. C2 galore. An’s parents were asking to rent me. I washed the dishes and the pans and the stove and EVERYTHING. Hahaha! I am soooooo good.^^ I do get industrious. ONCE IN A BLUE MOON.
- SSE Division Day this afternoon. I love the backdrop! *eherm* Because we were the ones who did it. Hahaha! Under the Sea theme for this sem. We had Fishes, Jellyfishes, Seahorses, an Octopus, Starfishes, Crabs and a TURTLE!
- Hanging out with Karla, Marj, Sam, Andrew, and Pansit.
- I broke a glass at Jeff2x. Have to pay 10php for that. *sniff*
- I’m sooooooo bad trip! I wanna run awaaaaaaay!
- Andrew “saving” the time with a SEVEN-UP game.
- I’m disappointed. Not even a happy game of KILLERS and a meal of burger steak could make me happy.
- “I’m not a chicken sold at Maqs for you to pick what part you like better.”
- SEVEN PEOPLE. Yeah. There would be SEVEN PEOPLE I would love to meet in heaven. These seven are those who KNEW me. Three billion people, and only SEVEN who KNOW me. This is going to be one hard battle.
- I feel so empty.

I want to fade away…

~ to Ateneo de Davao University and the failure to give just compensation to the poor Ateneo Debate Community
~ San Francisco and its bumpy roads. I have to pick up my scattered brain cells after the ride.
~ I-Felt-Cheated Restaurant (later changed to I-Won’t-Eat/I-Won’t-Be-Cheated-Again Carenderia) and its 50Php Viand WITHOUT rice. Add 10Php to receive a spoonful of rice. I will never curse PENONG’s and Yellow Cab again. SWEAR.
~ Butuan City and its orange tricycles with the big, white BUTUAN CITY painted in its “forehead”. As if we don’t know where we’re at.
~ Butuan Luxury Hotel (Welcome to the Red Light District) with all the nightclubs bordering it.
~ to the hardworking Pimps who welcomed us with “Sige na sir, sandali lang. Mura lang. Mga Bata pa yun.”
~ Father Saturnino Urios University. Shame to the food served. Honestly. Shame to the SCARCITY of KEKS! (Hay Meeks, hear, hear!). And the creaking AVR chairs. Very Scandalous.
~ Adjudication Exam. You figure it out.
~ New Debate Constitution! “No adjudicator should adj a debate with a team of the same institution as theirs.” What about the QUARTER-FINALS? Is it our fault that — Karla, finish my sentence.
~ horrid debate rounds. I miss nose-bleeding. I really did.
~ “Jurrasic” adjes of “some” schools whose oral adjudications is like “climbing a mountain of jellyace”. How on earth did they passed the Adj Exam? SHAFTing from the spirit of adjing. Btw, do they know what SHAFT means? *flashback Kuya Abdel’s speech about Extra-terrestrial adjes* They are AQUATIC. They have same-size brains as Starfishes. Wait, do STARFISHES HAVE BRAINS?
~ Reggae Night. Poor bands. They are quite good, anyway. Shame, shame to my kindness and staying even though we were the only persons left in the grounds.
~ Chaotic Round-ups. Worse. META-third world [line borrowed from Karla].
~ Sitting-out and Capping during the quarters. Grr. Is it our fault that —? Mark, you know what to do.
~ to Tine, Akeem, James, Mark and Kuya JB for making “laag” to the pseudo-mall without telling me. T.T Kaluoy nako.
~ inability of “some” people to grasp Inside Jokes. Can you just at least PRETEND that you have brains? It’s only for FOUR minutes.
~ to the Directory. Invasion of privacy!
~ Jollibee and the invisible water station.
~ to the idea of “straightness”. Honestly! Carl Jung believes that everyone is born bisexual. But you’re not Jung, so I’ll just shut my humongous, stupid mouth.
~ country music played in the bus on the way home. Much to the delight of Kuya JB and his obsolete perspectives. Hehe.
~ to admit, but there are some Hear, hears for the 14th MPDC. Don’t ask why the list is quite-short.

Hear, Hear

~ BEAUTIFUL songs on the way to Butuan.
~ PIE for lending me her eardrums.
~ the pretty — err, gorgeous Sharmila and “hot” (accdg to *****) Kuya Allan. Hehe.
~ the status and prestige brought by the name ADDU.
~ IDs and Envelopes. I love it. I think that’s the only thing that I loved.
~ free ballpens. Weee!
~ for the GREAT ADDU debaters *applause* for their magnificent ability to react from the shallowest, corniest jokes to the most complex kind of inside jokes. Thanks a lot.
~ Silent Rounds. Appreciated, at last. Although, I really, really, REALLY want to orally adjudicate that round. *evil smile*
~ to the Ateneo teams for breaking in. KUDOS people!
~ to the terms: Check & Balances, Arbiters, Umbrellas, Banner-Statements, Meta and Pseudo. I MISSED THEM!
~ HBO for saving me from the deadly pangs of boredom. WHITE CHICKS to the rescue.
~ Ate Marge’s Cookie’s and Cream Blouse, Tine’s pseudo-black skirt, and Karla’s Empowering earrings.
~ to Robert Frost. THBT You Say it Best When You Say Nothing At All.
~ ADDU Champions for a nose-bleeding final round and for bringing home the bacon. The trophy is finally ours.
~ to Sir Rex. *bow* No Comments.
~ Samurai Jack of Cartoon Network. The best place for unforgettable quotations. I wonder if they watch Powerpuff Girls?
~ to OUR room (room of the three youngest, most innocent girls of ADC who had been exploited recently) for being able to occupy fifteen alcoholic debaters and a former-Philosophy Division Chairperson. List includes an alcohol-thirsty Chinese Girl and an Easily-Knocked-Out Ignatian Chief Adjudicator.
~ to the Thank-God-I’m-Not-Cheated Restaurant/Videoke and its ability to transform into a nightclub as the clock chimes to midnight. The voices in my head are still debating whether the one who sang “Memory” [pronounced as MEE-MOW-REY] is actually Manny Pacquiao.
~ Hear, Hear DAVAO CITY! Home at last.

Recently Written

• Selene
• Of candles and courage
• Of the movie Unfaithful, marriage, and them anti-feminists
• Tall Tales
• I lost my brain.
• Tansan
• Resurrection
• Shames and Hears (A summary of the 14th MPDC)

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