It wasn't supposed to be a shout. I've just been so irritated with her bad mood. I know she’s tired, but I have my points too. The point I am trying to reiterate, is the fact that she is blood, but she’s alienated from me. They both are. Is that, my fault? Is it my fault to wait for them to ask me what the damn hell is happening with me?
I am dreadfully shaking these past few days, aside from the whole apprehension this summer, because no one bothered to say anything to me. I assured everything is fine on the back of my mind, but I’m still scared. My tita asked me if I was settled, but I answered her with all honestly that I have no idea either. My books are on hold. I might as well start drafting my faulty résumé.
I need not to be felt pity upon, but deep-inside, I was hurting all along, which lead to my almost two months of miserable insomnia. The wreck of my life I was faced before is still the wreck that is impossible to be put together. I don’t want this but this is all I’ve got. I don’t hurt myself. I’m just walking with everything I’m faced.
So Ejay won last night. I expected it to be Robi.
I filled my mind with television after we moved the stocks to the house, which is much better than the summer prison. I’ve got all the time to avoid thinking as much as possible. I stopped reading for now, lie-lowed on radio, and got much time to watch past movies. What I missed about that place was the people—I’ve recognized a few, had small crushes on a few, kept little forgettable grudges on a few,—walking to get there which had been my regular exercise, and some sentimental events that happened.
This week is judgment. My sleep patterns are ruined. I’m out of breath. I’m still alive because I hope. Sometimes we need not know everything. Sometimes we only need to figure what to do next. I’m sorry if it’s still dark. I’m sorry, myself.
