The Last Three Days (Part III)

by Cosmic Panda

The ticket to Johor Bahru from Kuala Lumpur costs MYR35.00, which is equivalent to php500.

It wasnt wise to waste php500 and buy another ticket. I was heartbroken, but I’m not stupid. So I decided to get on the bus.

I survived being pushed away for days.

I got through two nights of sleeping on the same bed with the guy who broke my heart.

What was another four hours.

When we arrived at Johor Bahru, it was raining, and it made the commute a little stressful.

From there, it was one more bus ride to Singapore.

The getting off and the getting on the bus to pass through the Malaysian and Singaporean immigrations annoyed me. I just wanted to get it over with and be away from Paul.

After the bus ride, MRT naman ang next.

“OMG yes finally I can go to the hostel, get a comfy bed and rest.”

Then it hit me. Akala ko yun na yun, hindi pa pala.

Before our trip kasi, I left some of my things at Paul’s place so I could travel lighter.

Soooo, I had to get off at Outram Park with him to get my stuff. ARGHHH

Iritable na talaga ako.

I was tired, I hated him, and I was hungry.

“Paul, I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

“Where do you want to eat?”

“Dun na sa may malapit sa inyo. Im so tireddddd.”

We got off at Outram Park and walked to his building. When we got to his place, he went inside to drop his things off and to bring me mine.

Yes, he went in and he had me waiting outside the door. Didnt offer me to come in and sit or rest for a bit or whatever.

Why didnt I JUST go in? HE CLOSED THE FUCKING DOOR ON ME. WOW diba. JUST WOW.

I didnt say anything. “Two more days.” I kept repeating to myself. “Two days more.”

When he got out, we went to the food place and ordered Chinese food. He chatted about the differences between Singaporean, Malaysian, Thai, and Indian food. And how spicy they all were. And how he liked spicy food. And how Pinoy-food-spicy is nothing compared to those and blah blah fucking blah.

I just ate my anger away and pretended I was interested in what he was saying. Its the same thing he talks about. Singapore is like this, this Indian word is this, and blah blah fucking blah.

After eating, I was so tired I couldn’t do anymore walking, so I told him I would just ride a cab to Arab St.

When I got in the cab, I saw him waving goodbye to me but I didn’t look at him.

I didn’t wave back.

I was so exhausted when I got to the hostel. I looked at my watch and it was 5PM. The 16-bed dorm room I checked-in to was empty. There were luggages all around, but everybody was out.

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I placed my bags inside my locker, went to my bed, covered myself with the comforter, and hugged my pillow tight.

Then I burst into tears.

(To be continued…)

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