Nah, the title’s misleading.

It seems like I’ve given up on adding photos to my posts. I’d like to have you know that I’m way too lazy to do a quick Google search or even to download a free stock image from a free stock image storage website and upload it here.

Someday, I’ll be too lazy to even breathe and die right there in my bed.

That’d be nice.

Got to say something about life, though.

I just finished the reading and writing part of DSE English Language. It’s actually kind of fun? We had to read about the myths about recycling and about Millennials.

It’s funny because I know for a fact that the people who make the DSE papers are Baby Boomers — you know, the ones notoriously always uses Millennials and their lack of awareness as the butt of the joke.

Well, I wasn’t inspired to pop back in on this blog because of the Millennial reading topic, I came because of the writing section.

In DSE, we have to choose one question out of eight to answer in part B. I chose the second question (the first question is compulsory and makes up the whole of part A) and it’s the “Learning English through Song and Poetry” section.

The topic of that section was about opportunities, citing Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” to inspire students to write about one opportunity they missed, and one that they took.

Look, if you had, one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted. In one moment
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?

While I’m not a fan, I’m also not a total Internet hermit and not know about this very popular meme. While talented, Eminem is probably mostly known for the memes his songs (namely “Lose Yourself”) has brought.

I was actually thinking about “Mom’s Spaghetti.”

Palms are sweaty
Knees weak, arms are heavy
Vomit on my sweater already
Mom’s spaghetti

– the original meme

Palms are sweaty
Knees weak, arms are spaghetti
Spaghetti on my sweater already
Mom’s spaghetti

– the even worse version that I was thinking of

Anyway, I digress.

I talked about her in the writing. Yes, yes, I know I promised myself not to talk about her anymore, but I couldn’t help it.

What else am I going to write about? That I saw a girl also wearing Pentatonix merch while waiting for the writing paper to begin and I didn’t walk up to her to tell her I really liked her hoodie?

That wasn’t interesting. I’m sure the markers who chose my paper to mark wouldn’t be interested in reading about some fanboy stalking a girl.

Granted, the whole thing I’m doing right now is kind of stalker-ish, but it’s different, trust me.

So, this is the gist of what I wrote. I’m too tired to even think about writing the entire thing. I don’t want to tell this story again. Perhaps another time, though.

Experiences make us, us. Without mistakes, we’ll be nothing. Our personality shapes us, and our history shapes our personality. We’re all unique because of that — we all take different lessons from the same experience and we learn different things from the same scene.

We’re all filled with regret, whether it be because of something we did, or lack thereof. We love to think of what ifs and if only’s when nothing comes to meet our expectations.

I normally don’t take risks. Why would I? I never want to have anything against my favor. I want to stay behind the scenes, not draw attention. I don’t want to be disappointed, and when I expect high of what one opportunity might give me, I get scared.

She became my replacement best friend when the real one began to drift away from me to associate herself with a more rowdy crowd. I like it quiet. While she was the opposite of quiet, she liked what I liked and had the same sense of dark humor I did, laughing at morbid jokes.

She even liked playing violent video games.

We clicked, like the weirdly shaped puzzle pieces that no one thought to put together.

So when we grew closer, and when she started telling me the troubles she faces in life, I thought we had something.

Boy, was I wrong.

Against my (obviously) better judgment, she dated one of her best friends. And yeah, they split almost less than two months later. Why? She got too close to a junior that happened to his friend.

And they’re dating now.

Did she cheat? I count it as cheating. She wouldn’t tell me the whole story because of my (obviously) better judgment.

When you rant to me, I assume that you’d want my advice. Isn’t that what you do? Rant to someone to vent out your feelings and indirectly ask the other person what you should do? I thought so. My previous experiences tell me so. It’s basically a silent invitation even if you didn’t directly ask the other person for their opinion.

To comfort you, they will offer their advice on what they would do if they were you. They’re the third party, they’re not affected by the emotions that cloud you enough to make you vent out your feelings to your friends. Even if you don’t think so, they know better.

I knew better.

She didn’t think so.

I got mad at her for that. Combined with the stuff she did during lessons back then… it was annoying and the last straw.

Her bravery turned into idiotic behavior, her once-cute stubbornness turned into a refusal to be civil, her offensive jokes became plain rude, her sassy attitude became unnecessary commentary and lack of respect.

The stars that once shone brightly in her eyes began to die out when I fell out of love the same way I fell in.

Even after crying over her more than once, I’m glad that I didn’t take the opportunity to confess to her. Sure, there are people who say that you won’t lose anything and gain everything when you confess. It goes a bit like this: you confess. If she rejects, you’ll keep her as a friend; if she accepts, then you get a girlfriend.

Nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I don’t believe in that. You’d risk the friendship, and I’d rather have a friendship intact than a friendship strained.

I don’t just want to be another guy who has a crush on her.

I’ll be happy on my own. I’ll find someone else to make me smile as much as she did when she cracks a terrible, offensive joke. I’ll find someone who is respectful of other cultures, of other ethnics, of others’ feelings.

They’re bound to be out there, right? I’ll take that shot.