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Dear HM,

I am writing this on the morning of Valentine's Day. You may be wondering how in the world can I remain "chillax" despite being unattached yet well-aware of how the day transformed the world to “hearts and flowers”. You'd probably want to ask me the usual question "hindi ka ba naiinggit?" or how come I don't get green with envy for not getting the usual flowers and chocolates when everyone today has either of them in their hands.

Well, my answer that question is No, I don't. I guess I've been so used to it.  I can assure you that I’m fine and I can exactly tell you why.

Months ago, I heard these words from someone as I was having my morning coffee in the office."Sometimes, the man in your heart is not the man in your dreams." Those words were that strong (but not stingy, okay) I kept it written in paper and in my head – enough to remind me of you. It's funny how "spot on" those words could be at the least expected moment.

Forgive me for being (brutally) honest. When our paths first crossed years ago, I never saw you to be "the dream guy" – maybe you are for a lot of girls out there but not for me. But then, years would pass between the two of us only for me to realize that something else is true: that God gives you not the person that you want but instead, He gives you the person He thinks you need.

I am a work in progress and I chances are I always will be. Whether your reason for being here is to be a lesson or a blessing is something I yet to know. But maybe, God was right in deciding that instead of sending someone else, it was you that I needed and He allowed to occupy a part of my life today. For little by little, I come to realize how you could be someone's alter ego to me— disciplinarian, cheerleader and mentor all rolled into one. You may be impatient with traffic but you were the exact opposite when it comes to enlightening me with the things that you deem necessary that I should know. Over time, our conversations enabled me to have a different perception in life, about people and of the world. You've somehow shown me that despite of my usual view of people living in your world, they too could be different – in a positive way at that. While we both landed in challenging (not to mention stressful) careers, maybe, the Universe designed it to be that way so that we can be able to complement each other (from triumphs, defeats, stresses and all). 

You taught me to appreciate people and things while I still have them around.

More importantly, you helped me transform into a better version of me –someone I have always thought I could never become. Unknowingly, while I encouraged you to believe that everything is possible, you too were returning me the same favor. And from encouraging me to take a leap of faith at a worthy endeavor to knowing how to say the right words (vicious or otherwise) when the moment calls for it, your words never fail to inject sense of maturity back into my head when I tend to be stubborn and irrational with my reasons and rants. 

Even if I decided to write this today, I still believe that expressing affection, even gratitude is not just reserved to be shown on Valentine's Day. Nor does it need to be cheesy romantic. To convey love isn't limited to material things like roses, candlelit dinners or chocolates. It's just a matter of seeing things with a content and grateful heart. No one may have given me roses nor chocolates. But then, I've been more than lucky blessed to receive one of the best gifts in the form of love languages-- WORDS OF AFFIRMATION, ACTS OF SERVICE (for me and for other people) and QUALITY TIME from someone who I may not have dreamed of but God was more than generous to grant me with.

And for that, I couldn't be anything but thankful.  

To more cakes and koalas,
                -G-


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MABUHAY!

I'm a 30-something Millennial Tita from the Art Capital of the Philippines and I express what's on my mind (may it be a good experience or otherwise) through writing. Feel free to explore the fragments of my mind which you can find in this blog.
Oh and forget the formalities. You can call me Glaiza!

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