(Nope, not a sweet writing. It's angsty. Simply angsty.)

So you've heard about the most crappy bunch of students to ever come together as a class. It's no surprise, because we've garnered the worst titles of idiocy and moronic ways throughout the whole batch.

Sometimes we even wonder if we really are pathetic...

But we're not as low-esteemed and unuseful as you might think.

We did not pray for a perfect section; we're perfectly happy the way we are. There's more to us than failed competitions and self-mutilations.

It was the bond that slowly grew amongst us that kept us together. Barely weeks after the first days of school we had gotten comfortable with one another. The kind where you could fool around with people you never thought you'd meet and get along with -- sometimes to such an extent that brought disdainful looks from other people. (Yes, that field trip and those neon-colored name tags) It was too easy to strike up a conversation, and later discuss problems on just about anything under the sun.

We also knew how to be good friends. We understood how it felt to be in the place of others. We could reach out to others and tell them it was okay to cry. It was the perfect time to feel bad -- because we were sophomores then and we belonged to a family that was concerned about our comfort, not about our grades...

And maybe because of those days we had wished for nothing but relaxation and pleasure in our school lives. Oh yeah, we had lots and lots of fun.

And maybe that's why we thought so highly of ourselves, though somewhere deep inside of us things were disintegrating like sodium hydroxide exposed to the atmosphere...

At least we had something to boast of. Not awards, not intelligence, not the prestige of being in the country's greatest secondary school (though it does makes us guilty at times)...

It was the fact, the wonderful gift, the event dictated to us by Destiny that we would be Sampaguita Batch Two-thousand and Two.

So back off. We're not as pretty and elegant as the national flower we were named after. But maybe, just maybe, we were simply meant to be.