16 march 2007
metrica, manila
Kuya Boy’s voice was already reverberating around the house. Twisting, turning, coiling and spinning, my mind was still stirring. Allende, Garcia-Marquez and Kundera were of no help. After reading and re-reading them, their powerful words and metaphors turned into mere ants parading before my tired eyes. Sleeping pills were all expired, the Nido can was already empty, Kukay was having forty winks at the doorsteps, and my eyes were still alive and kicking.
For the past days, I’ve been struggling to sleep. Every inch of my nerves has all worn out after several days of pressure from the office, particularly from our PM. Stress has been killing me I have been restless. The last time I had a sound sleep was so long a time I’ve forgotten it. Good thing there’s Marlboro and Coke that somewhat put me at ease.
Times like these bring me back to assessing my life. Which I hate, not only because I feel guilty for the things that I’ve done and whatnot, but I’d be consumed in trying to figure out my status right now and my future, if there is. This I find insufferable because I’m afraid that that would make me down in the dumps, especially with the current condition of my work.
Sometimes, I just think that I’m just overreacting, that I’m seeing things larger than life. I’m just trying to believe that life is as simple as what it had been during our younger years, when all our problems revolve around the zits and JS prom and our crushes. But however I strive to view things in rose-colored glass, this is my life now. And in spite of all the efforts that I’ve been doing to make it look optimistic and upbeat, well, it is as exciting as opening of an umbrella.
Too much for this as I know I’m not making any sense anymore. The sun was in its full vividness and Luningning was now executing her signature steps. Still, catching a doze was far from reality, even though my eyes were already puffed-up. Wait, Maricel Soriano was up next.
metrica, manila
Kuya Boy’s voice was already reverberating around the house. Twisting, turning, coiling and spinning, my mind was still stirring. Allende, Garcia-Marquez and Kundera were of no help. After reading and re-reading them, their powerful words and metaphors turned into mere ants parading before my tired eyes. Sleeping pills were all expired, the Nido can was already empty, Kukay was having forty winks at the doorsteps, and my eyes were still alive and kicking.
For the past days, I’ve been struggling to sleep. Every inch of my nerves has all worn out after several days of pressure from the office, particularly from our PM. Stress has been killing me I have been restless. The last time I had a sound sleep was so long a time I’ve forgotten it. Good thing there’s Marlboro and Coke that somewhat put me at ease.
Times like these bring me back to assessing my life. Which I hate, not only because I feel guilty for the things that I’ve done and whatnot, but I’d be consumed in trying to figure out my status right now and my future, if there is. This I find insufferable because I’m afraid that that would make me down in the dumps, especially with the current condition of my work.
Sometimes, I just think that I’m just overreacting, that I’m seeing things larger than life. I’m just trying to believe that life is as simple as what it had been during our younger years, when all our problems revolve around the zits and JS prom and our crushes. But however I strive to view things in rose-colored glass, this is my life now. And in spite of all the efforts that I’ve been doing to make it look optimistic and upbeat, well, it is as exciting as opening of an umbrella.
Too much for this as I know I’m not making any sense anymore. The sun was in its full vividness and Luningning was now executing her signature steps. Still, catching a doze was far from reality, even though my eyes were already puffed-up. Wait, Maricel Soriano was up next.
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