Sunday, January 22, 2006

Shit Happens

I think my pre-birthday depression is starting too early. It started exactly one month before my birthday, January 22 -- last Sunday dawn.

After watching a twin-bill play, we went to Rainbow Project to hang out and dance. I hate it when I get hit by my depression in the middle of the dance floor. After drinking 4 San Mig Lights, I was sober. I began to notice small things and get depressed by it. Thank god for cellphones! So when rain tried to get in my parade, I sat down on one of the couches in Rainbow Project, pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and began 'typing' my thoughts.

I lost the game. I am never the person I thought I was. How could I find love, of 'karir' for that matter, when I always end up with the wrong one? I hate feeling this way: drunk and unwanted. Maybe I just need to open my eyes for things I cannot see -- or for the things I refuse to see. For the people who have been waiting for me. People who will make me feel wanted -- loved. I do not know if the problem is with me. I don't want to feel this way. The people around me make me feel this way. I HATE IT. I just wanted to be happy. Yeah, I enjoy my freedom and all, but I would give anything just to be hold onto and be tied. I'm tired of promises meant to be broken, words meant to be taken back. I'm just tired -- tired from everything. I just want someone. Someone who will teach me how to and will let me fly and will catch me when I fall. That's all I need -- SOMEONE. Is that hard? Tao rin ako; umaasa, nangangarap, nabibigo at, higit sa lahat, nasasaktan. - 01:22:06, 1:21 AM

I don't want to dwell on details and I think that message will exactly describe how I felt last Saturday.
If I will be given a wish last weekend, I would love for it to happen backwards. The twin-bill play was so hilarious, I am sure if we watched it after what happened to Malate, I wouldn't go home sober. Maybe Eugene Domingo will be able to uplift my spirits.

Anyway, my dreams that night were restless. When I woke up at 9 AM, I felt like I didn't sleep at all. And, for me, it is not easy waking up on a Sunday from a very hard night. My dad was home. I know it is not right for me to say this but I hate it when he is home. The issues of financial support and his work are being refreshed everytime he is home.

His presence always makes me feel uncomfortable. I just don't know why.

To cap my disastrous weekend, he is yet to give my mom his January 15th pay, which is like five days ago. I wonder where his money goes. Sizzling plate on Shangri-la? Movie date with that fat long-haired bitch? Merienda at Tiandecitas?

Truly, shit happens. But, normally, when people around me give me shits, I get even. But now is not the time. And I still have 29 days to go. Til then, say goodbye to the bubbly me, and hello to the sober and depressed me.


I am not a sports aficionado, but I cannot be help but be proud that Manny Pacquiao won over his fight with Erik Morales. Never mind how Jeniffer Bautista butchered our National Anthem. That off-key bitch! Anyway, congrats Manny!


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