This is ridiculous.
I am once again sleep-deprived because of my absurd fear of missing my flight. I’m going to ruin another perfectly normal day just because of this neurosis. Whatever.
Having been land-locked (make that bed-locked) for more than a week now, I feel like I’ve retreated into myself even more. Going outside the house for example makes me nauseate. I was looking around SM the other day and I felt dizzy looking at the sky. Maybe the concept of a distant horizon is beginning to become a real threat to my bedroom existence.
After my ‘divorce’ I went home to the province and stayed there, drowning among hopeless relatives and friends, for almost two weeks. True, I barely have two coins to rub against each other but somehow I felt lighter, happier even. Days went faster but were very enjoyable. Even bringing my dad to the market for some ‘native’ breakfast was most satisfying.
When I came back to the big bad city a couple of days ago, I almost got depressed. I missed the smiling faces of those guys whose immediate problem was where to source the next meal. Not deadlines, or reviews, or appraisals. Meals. And they’re not stressed about it. The idea of me bellyaching at Starbucks sipping my P130 latte seemed like a cruel insult. A cruel joke. Here you have shiny happy people who must use their wits to scrounge for the next meal and… gah. Human misery, life’s unfair, Dickensian, take your pick. It’s a fucked up universe.
I’ve finally turned back the clock. I am sleeping like a normal human being now. Awake when I’m supposed to be awake, and asleep when I’m supposed to be asleep. Oh god, lead me to the slaughterhouse and butcher me whole. But this is boring! Happy perhaps, but boring like hell!
In a few hours I’ll be going back to the province to spend the lenten season there. Who am I kidding though? I’ll most definitely use all of that downtime playing mahjong with my titas and titos. Fun.
But anyway. It’s lent. A little sacrifice wouldn’t hurt.