I review the message I sent to her last night, only to realize that I might have given the wrong idea.
Yesterday, as I drove my way along 30th St., the same black Fortuner that escorted Ariel in Subic was parked in front of my building. It was probably that guy, Ichiro. And I was so tempted to approach them, but I was reminded by my little angel that, 'Hey. Just friends, right?'
The mere fact that I wanted to wreck his Fortuner with my shining-shimmering-splendid red Camaro proved me that I was out of my drug-fed mind. Perhaps it was because of the medicine, I thought. I mean, how could I even wreck something that is bigger than I am?
Dismissing the idea, I went straight to Beatz Tavern with no particular reason and got myself wasted. Now, I wake up with a freaking headache in my parent
