Monday, October 28, 2013

4th August 2013, Sunday |07:36AM

One Sunday Morning

I just brushed my teeth and washed my face to welcome a new Sunday, but my hands are numb, my head is reeling, and I’m not even drunk.

The questions keep confusing me at this perfect hour of my morning when my heart flaps at speed with not even a teaspoon of caffeine in my blood. Blame it on my future, because I fear that I’m losing it now. 

Each morning, I wake up breathing the cold air, thinking about how to kill the next 15 hours. I feel naked with this routine, ripped of reason and merit. With no work not even play, I recount the times I said these lifeless days should be over. I repeat, these lifeless days should be over. If not, either my life goes penniless with an everyday can of beer or I go lifeless with my sanity all over my liver. All the same every day.

To all the angels and saints, I implore that may these frozen days find their warmth soon, then I’ll start believing again that my dreams are not yet broken.

The irony of my life: There’s plenty of time to rest when we die, Adam Lambert sings, and I firmly believe so in the power of each word put together that one only rests when one dies. It was my life and it has now become my lie.

I have been sleeping a lot these past few days that since yesterday until today’s breakfast time, up to this very second, my brains, my eyes and the rest of me are still working. In the coming days of the coming weeks, I will wander away the comfort of Sonata ready to rest my mind and body from working overtime because of sleeping overtime. I will instead write until I write no more which I hate to say will put me to sleep until I sleep no more. Who needs rest? I do, and I am so dead.

I guess I have to wait for the epiphany whether it happens on the road or in the comfort room, as long as it is here. And I will be waiting patiently for the good news to come out of this gamble even if I am so unsure of its worth. Knowing this is what I want now is enough. I am just scared that what I want is not what I need to get there.

Tomorrow before lunch, I pray that I get unstuck before my anxiety attacks. Yes, I shall find my rhythm. Soon, I shall.
10th October 2013

I am writing today like I'm walking on air, remembering the not-so-good old days when I was not writing.

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