Novembre Dodici, 7:05 PM

I never knew that Miss Canada would win. She’s pretty, but it’s not enough. I was in the car when I heard the news from the radio station.

I arrived super early at school, and it took very long when my teacher showed up. As usual, during her discussion, she bragged abou her accomplishments, which we didn’t find any connection with today’s topic. The teacher picked on me again. This is what she exactly said (in Filipino), “Si Miss Magana, andito pala siya, ang walang katulad na si Miss Magana!” and what was that suppose to mean? You know what, it’s very insulting. As usual, I kept my temper down and shrugged of the odd feeling. Why am I gonna fuss? Anyway, I’m really used to it. When I was in highschool, my schoolmates and friends call me and treat me as “Princess”. They liked me, even I am weird.

People around me during my highschool days simply love me, even Erika, the most difficult person I’ve ever known. In fact, we ended up very good friends, until now. Maybe, that’s because they’ve known me for so long. My theory is this: it will take long before anyone in my college school learn to accept me the way I am. For them, I am Regine, the resident weirdo, the female counterpart of Alvin C, not the Princess, who I used to be. Enough said.

I attended Theo class. It’s very boring when you know what your teacher is discussing. There’s nothing to learn, so there’s nothing to ask and say. I was sitting with Jerome, who, I believe, despises me, so I was surprised when he asked to sit with me.

I went home right after. And the rest of the day was all piano practice.

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