[Day 5 continue] 8 AM
> Me (internally):
"This is how it ends. Not with a kiss… but with a lawsuit."
And just like that, a taxi rolled up—
Like destiny with wheels.
> Me (gasps dramatically):
"Oh my Taxi. Aircon? Sa wakas."
***
I opened the door like a man tasting freedom for the first time.
Act cool, I told myself. Be suave. Be composed.
> Me (clears throat):
"Ahhm… Hello po. Pa-hatid po sa SanIgnacio College ."
The driver turned his head slowly.
Stared at me like I just offered to pay him in Pokémon cards.
> Taxi Driver (deadpan):
"Cash or vibes?"
> Me:
"GCash po sana… pero may feelings din ako kung okay lang?"
He didn't laugh. He just turned up the radio.
A love song played.
The awkward silence slapped harder than the beat drop.
***
I arrived.
Alive. Sweaty. Mentally unprepared.
> Me (stretching):
"Alright. Time to act like I pay full tuition."
I walked past the guard like I owned the place.
Nodded at a janitor. Winked at a vending machine.
Said hello to a lamppost.
> Me (internal monologue):
"Yes. I am Ryan. I am educated. I am… mildly unstable but enrolled."
Then I saw him.
Sir Sexy. Our subject teacher.
Glasses on. Slow motion. Aura of authority. Dangerous forearms.
> Me (whispers):
"Why is this man still giving K-drama energy?"
"Is this… School Crush Simulator 2025?"
> Sir Teacher:
"Ryan. You're late again."
> Me (panicking):
"No po! I was early… in another timeline!"
He sighed and walked away.
I entered the room like a zombie on 1% battery.
My brain? Lagging.
My soul? Buffering.
Then he came in.
Rolled sleeves. Holding a marker like it owed him rent.
Glasses catching the light like a shounen protagonist mid-speech.
> Me (blinking hard):
"Why is this man glowing?"
"Is this admiration? Respect? Or—wait lang, Ryan. Chill."
My hands began to sweat.
Like I was holding overdue tuition bills.
> Me (internally):
"Why is he giving Rachel-level energy?!"
He wrote on the board like a calligrapher of destiny.
> Sir Teacher:
"Open your books to page 42."
> Me (panicking inside):
"Yes da—SIR. I mean SIR. TEACHER. Sorry. Brain glitch."
I looked down at my notebook.
One line Again.
> "He has veins."
I crossed it out like I was deleting my entire identity.
> Me (facepalming):
"Okay. You need sleep. Not another identity crisis."
***
BRRRRIIIINNNGGG!
Class ended. I got a high score.
> Me (proudly):
"My eyes? Like a sniper.
My copying skills? God-tier."
"Halos lumusot na 'yung mata ko sa papel ng katabi. Kung may degree sa pangongopya, valedictorian na ako."
I walked home again like a broke car reviewer.
Guessing brands again.
> Me (pointing):
"Honda. Kia. Toyota… ooh, Ferrari? Never mind. Kalbo lang 'yung gulong."
As I walked past again, the siopao vendor stared at me like she was mentally filling out a psychiatric admission form.
> "This one needs to be checked… ASAP," her eyes probably said.
Then I smell it again.
The siopao.
Steam rose like it was whispering my name.
> Me (staring dramatically):
"The prophecy… it returns."
> Siopao (telepathically):
"Tikman mo ako."
> Me (softly):
"Okay, fine. You win."
I stepped closer.
> Me:
"Manang, pabili nga po. Isa lang po."
> Me (thinking):
"Sana may ketchup. Huwag lang Mang Tomas. Please."
> Tindera (smiling):
"O ito na oh. Bente singko lang."
> Me (handing over a ₱25 coin with confidence):
"Manang, yung sukli po?"
She raised an eyebrow.
> Tindera (half-laughing):
"Aba! Napano ka ba iho? Nadapa ka ba sa school at naalog 'yang utak mo?"
> Me (smiling):
"Haha… siguro nga po."
Then she look away.
I took a bite.
Warm. Soft. Savory.
Like Mama used to make.
> Me (chewing slowly):
"Hmm… this one's good…
But Mom's siopao still wins."
It wasn't the best siopao in the world.
But it tasted like home.
***
After i eat a siopao..
I walked home slowly.
Like a man with zero pesos, but a million-peso emotional weight.
> Me (whispering):
"I miss you, Mom.
Maybe one day, I can visit you.
Maybe tell you I'm okay… even if I'm not."
Quiet streets. Trees. Chismoso dogs barking at each other.
Until—
> Me (blinking):
"Wait… this is Rachel's house?!"
Mansion. Fountains.
Even the wind had the scent of imported fabric softener.
Then—
> Rachel (from the balcony, shouting):
"HEY, IDIOT!
You better not lift anyone again today."
I froze.
Turned my head like a guilty protagonist in a horror film.
> Me (internally):
"Please don't throw a slipper."
Rachel stood there. Arms crossed.
Hair flipping with judgment.
Eyes scanning me like a red flag collector.
> Me (nervous smile):
"Peace, ma'am."
I waved. She squinted.
Like she was deciding between sarcasm or pest control.
> Me (internally):
"She still remembers earlier.
Crap. My delulu is showing."
"I need to go home. My head's pounding again. Not this crap again... I just wanna lie in bed and scream into the void—painfully, dramatically, like the mess I am."
[End of day 5]
-SKIPPP!!!