“I’m a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-a my fanny, I can shake-a my cans.

I’m a tough, tootin’ baby, I can punch-a your buns.

Punch-a your buns, I can punch-a your buns.

If you’re an evil witch, I will punch you for fun!”

It’s unbelievable that Raphael is turning 18 next year. next year. next year.

What the hell, we met when we were 14 in middle school. And he’s only 8 months apart from me.

What is this, guise? In 3 more days, it will be 1 year and 6 months together. 
We are getting kind of old, babyboo. 

Those who doubt my relationship — I’m more than oblige to prove you wrong once I walk down that aisle.

Our relationship from the beginning was not your ordinary “Wanna go out because I like you?” kind.

We were complete strangers to each other in middle school. I’d find him as the mop-head weirdo who would stare at me for brief moment, as I take out something from my bag. Later on, he knew me as the girl who will pull a guys’ long hair literally and violently to the floor in a joking way.

It wasn’t until the near end of the school year. Mr. Sollie, Algebra 1, grouped the tables in two long rows, somehow Raphael and Samuel were my buds at the table. Playfully, I’d take his brush and try to break it in half while lightly hitting it on the edge of the table. Of course, he repeatedly tells me it’s never going to break that way.

I can remember when he was guy interested in skating and classic rock. Music in general and loved to play the guitar. Somehow, he slowly became attached to NeverShoutNever. At the time, Arianna and I were “scene kids” at school and colorful headbands were part of the scene trend. I took his headband and he would adorably beg for it back. And of course, I love being friendly and playful. I didn’t! Did I mention he did some crimes also? He soon came back with pink skull candy headphones and asked for a trade. Why would Target suddenly lock all their popular branded electronics? You think about that. That was one of our interactions.

Promotion day, oh promotion. Last day of our 8th grade year. I can vividly remember this day. We were all dressed formally for that day. My red dress, black tights, bedazzled black flats, zipper necklace and hideous curled hair. You wore white dress shirt untucked, black skinny jeans, black and white vans, black tie and your fake Ray Bans! We took photos of each other with our cell phones and joked around. You’d sneak a photo of me and I’d try to delete it. I can remember you playing More Than Words on the guitar. I remember I was singing along.

Did you think we would end up together and be very happily in love? 

When your boyfriend knocks out 5 minutes within the conversation. What a sleepy baby boy. I laugh when he snores, it’s so funny sounding. But, cute at the same time!

I feel happy when you are okay, when you are at ease. I understand you can only let our your frustration and stress on me, because who else do you have? You’ve admitted I’m the only one who’s really here for you. No real mother, no real friends at a school you were forced into, finally you have your little cousins. I’m not always going to be relaxed when I intake so much negativity. It’s very bad for me. I need to vent out my sadness. We both do. I’m the one who should feel and consider a bit more. You take numerous responsibility simultaneously. Left and right, there’s not a moment where you can’t sit down and rest. I need to understand. We’re both discontented that we’re in desperation of needing each other’s embracement.