hoops

3:34 PM

teo

...ok pa kaya si hoops

naging totoong adik na ata

Russ

Let him finally be happy. I was getting sick of his sad face

teo

hoy hoops buhay ka pa ba @Vargas

Vargas

She said no to SV.

Meet Millie, short for Smallville.

teo

gago

naging tatay na pala kaya antahimik AHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAH

Russ

I can't believe Vargas is a cat dad.

Vargas

Hoops.

I'm so happy.

teo

wait bawal muna, manalo sana muna tayo

balik mo sya samen @yvanna

Russ

Ano nangyari kay "Wala akong oras sa mga reporters"? 😂

teo

ayan

cat daddy na

isa nga dyan hoops

kaya mo ba to oha oha igalaw ng ganito oha oha

Yvanna 😾

10:13 PM

Thank you, baby.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Hahahahahaahha

Clingy cat. Who knew? 😂

luh 😾

sige na nga 😒

Okay open the door

read

Yvanna 😾

10:16 PM

Uwi na ko. 😋

DID YOU JUST

YOU JUST PICKED ME UP LIKE IM NOTHING

And kissed you against the wall while you wrapped your legs around me and moaned, yes, I'm glad your memory is working fine.

I HATE YOU

UMUWI KA NANG MALANDI KA

Stop lying, Yvanna. Tsk. Akala ko ba reporters rely on facts?

fact

you

Cute mo.

I love you too.

You shared your location

read

Yvanna 😾

11:22 PM

Nakauwi na ko't lahat-lahat, seen pa rin? 🙄

attitude

ikaw nga tong umalis

Hahahaahahahahahaha

the truth is i actually forgot to reply, may naalala akong question na itatanong sayo for finals

So you hyperfocused on something and forgot I existed. Great.

pretty much

Some things never change. 😂

I am happy you're writing again though. Not that I ever thought you'd stop because of me—I don't rank that high against your passion/ambition—but for a while there I thought you'd burned out on it, that you had enough of this year's UAAP already.

And then Coach would've had to drag me by the ear to a presscon mic.

i was still writing when we weren't talking

just not for sports

Oh? Then for what?

about me hating you

Hah. That's fair. 🥲

this is inspired by one of the best romcoms of all time:

I hate that you've become two extremes.

Every place is either full of you or not enough.

Every song is either one that sounds like you or one I have to skip before it gets the chance to.

Every day is either good or I haven't spoken to you.

I hate that we built an entire language around a certain organ. Heartbreak. Heartache. Heartsickness. I hate that we draw it in the margins of notebooks, tattoo it onto wrists, press a hand to it every time we say I'm sorry, I promise, I mean it. As if the heart has ever done anything more heroic than keep blood moving.

I hate that the stomach never got a single word of credit, despite doing all the real work—the dropping, the knotting, the turning, the going hollow.

Housing butterflies.

Mistakes longing for hunger and devastation for nausea.

I hate that mine picked you to hold onto, like it decided on its own you were worth the ache.

I hate that you hurt me.

I hate that you did it so suddenly I missed it happening.

I hate that anger should have been easier. It would've asked so much less of me.

I hate that you let me care this much.

I hate that I do.

I hate that I still haven't figured out how to stop.

Which is unfortunate, because I don't think I hate you.

Not even a little bit, not even at all.

read

are you making fun of me

is it bad

ibblock na kita ayoko na

Yvanna 😾

FaceTime Video

Calling...

Yvanna 😾

1:41 AM

I may not have the words like you do, but I know that that's the worst hate poem I've ever read.

I love you too, Yvanna. I can't believe I get to be loved by you.

Kaya sagutin mo na 'ko.

Goodnight, see you in my dreams. 😽