For several months, I've been talking about a guy who's very close to my heart.
In the picture is me with my arm around Desmond. He's an irregular student and a classmate in Rational Psychology. He's taking up AB Philosophy and plans to take up law, like me.
Desmond Jose Esteban Blumentritt y Camaroncocido, or Des, as I affectionately call him, is named such because of his Spanish roots. His great-great-great grandfather was a pure-blooded Spaniard named Esteban Vihaio, the cabeza de barangay of Laguna.
Desmond and I are in a complicated, on-again/off-again relationship. Constant arguments mar every barkada outing that we attend. It's embarrassing, but my friends got used to it.
Even though Des and I fight all the time, I love him because when it matters, I can count on him to back me up, especially when no one takes my side.
Reading this through, I just fully realized for the first time how pathetic I must be. An imaginary boyfriend? Seriously? Am I really that lonely that even my real friends can't make me happy? Now, that's just sad, is what it is.