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The seven-year itch.

Seven years. Ah, that monumental time frame, the daunted limit. They say it takes seven years before a married couple sees completely each other's flaws and realizes quite fully how uninteresting their relationship has become. It's the time it takes before one wanders around, gallivanting from one bed to the other, or when one suddenly decides to take on a graduate degree or a new job or a trip that ultimately does not involve the partner. In short, it's the amount of time it takes before you get bored and decide it's actually time to close up shop and just walk away.

It's been seven years since I first posted an online tirade about some mishap way back in my first year of high school. Since then, this blog has been witness to my unabashed One Tree Hill fangirling (which, up to this day, has not been surpassed), hormonal fits, unreasonable crushes, nervous breakdowns, unwarranted excitement, and everything else in between. If it were any other relationship, all that ranting would have been good enough justification to get rid of me. To my defense, at least I was an evolving creature. Blogger is still pretty much the same and I've been getting this kind of treatment since I first created an entry in 2005. No pretty layouts, no reblogging and liking features. Yes, the constancy can get a bit dull too.

I have every reason to leave this blog behind, under the guise of growth or maturity or just for amusement. I've been getting terribly busy lately and I can only predict more demanding months (and probably years!) ahead. This is probably the perfect time to say, "It's not you, it's me," and not feel that bad about it.

But despite all that (and despite Livejournal, Xanga, Multiply, and now Tumblr) here we are, still. I don't know if it's the sentimentality over the time shared or just the laziness to transfer URLs, but the fact is, I like this blog. I actually like being here. I enjoy updating my layout every now and then, I like reading the few questions that come my way, I relish all the clumsy writing of previous years. I still look forward to writing about how my week went or just putting my thoughts out there, no matter how trivial and repetitive.

I guess at the end of the day, what matters is I still love it. And isn't that what saves the marriage, the relationship? That it's something we actually are still fond of? That it's something we cannot do without? That it still holds a piece of us?

It's been seven years, but I feel like this is just the beginning.