We checked in at this luxurious hotel in Boracay. I hate it. It's a large iron cage with swimming pools. The staff keep wanting to take my bag for me. I have arms. I have legs. I don't need anyone to carry anything for me. 

 

We haven't spoken a word since last night. I'm still angry. I feel so alone. Tomorrow is my birthday and I'm likely going to spend it all by myself. I don't care but I do care. I regret spending so much money on this five star hotel. It's yet another accommodation. What's different is that I feel the need to stay here to make my money worth. But the more I stay here, the more lonely I feel.

 

Mohsine made some friends once we stepped foot in the lobby. An older man. They spoke the same language. Arabic, I think. I don't like the way he looked at me. I still feel unsafe. As if he could plant drugs in my bag. As if he would sell me off to his newfound friend. I have issues with catastrophy thinking. That is I keep thinking that bad things could happen and obsess over taking precautions and preparing for the worst. I even left a "will" on my phone in case I die during this trip. Can't help it.

 

Called San and explained the situation. He told me despite what happened I have had a great time nevertheless. That's true. And I would probably not have done all these things hadn't Mohsine asked me to tag along. Thought about forgetting the whole thing and proceed as if nothing happened, just to straighten out the tension. But I'm too proud. He wronged me. He's not getting away with this. Part of me want to tell him off and never see him again. Still uncertain whether or not I'm overreacting.