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I’m a person who talk to herself, and I think it’s genetic. No, people, I’m saying it out loud. Sometimes only in my heart, many times I can resist myself mumbling words.

Monologue that keep happening nowadays is, “Are we there yet?” repeatedly. Just like a scene on a movie, where a man taking his girlfriend’s kids to somewhere, and spoiled brats keep asking, “Are we there yet?” in a high pitch mode. Annoying.

Yes, I’m asking when will I get there. By there, I mean, having my own family plus nice home or apartment and nice car to ride.

Oh and my beloved friend reminding me. Her birthday is today. Happy bday, G!! She’s freaking out. “26, geez, sounds adult enough for me,” she said.

Yep. 26 is a new chapter to be written for. And oh my eyes, my eyes, all I could see is my high school and college friends got hitched, babies or toddlers on the grip, and where am I? Single, a dashing one, at least I have career to built in. But still, that aint enough. Well, there will never be enough, though.

26 is scary. I have 4 years left before I leap into 30-ish that eekkkss moi. Oh crap. One thing that I will never ever tired questioning is why the hell I badly wanna get a ring on my finger and changing vow. I don’t want kids, for sure. Nicole (antm cycle 13) said too much changing diapers make our head gone loopy.

Maybe, because I want to make my parents happy.
And that’s my friend, is a very wrong reason to get married.
Uh huh! Totally đŸ˜€

I wanna be 25 for the rest of my life.
25 is ISH but fabulousity sparkling from every side.
My golden age! Should be silver, but what the heck.

Sigh.

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