It has been days of dreamless trance, of waking up without any hint of erratic make-believe worlds of my soulless state. The universe, echoing through my existence, calling for an escape from the living behind the dark curtain of the night, and condemning me to stream through conscious existence.
I turn the light's switch on. Waking up on a Monday morning has been easier for the past two weeks with the prospect of live-streaming Sherlock at four in the morning. It wasn't too much; most won't probably understand the ridiculous amount of time I spend on my fandoms and the gaiety they bring. But I am on my happiest, without the thrill of alcohol and the shrill tinsel joie de vivre of last night's party, I am alive for these moments.
The inevitable, today I went to San Sebastian College to enrol for their bar review classes. My parents, the consistent pressure they were, initially insisted I remain in UP, like I have not spent the past eight years in its embrace. But like any personal decision I have made prior, I have to soberly argue my case until they cave in to the obvious logic of my choices. This living has to be mine.
The day couldn't have been better: cold January breeze, the sun bashfully peeking behind the white sheet slits of the clouds . I equally gloat and suffer for this kind of days: cold breeze like a warm chocolate drink-topped with marshmallow I could not drink. Walking the dirty, crumbling on its own filth, streets of U-Belt, I thought I saw my life finally branching out before me, like the complicated and twisted pavements and mud I was traversing. But it was too early to say, the day almost too perfect to rationalize dispositions. Tough, the next few months will be.
The nauseating abundance of drama of the past weeks was luckily hyped by the season premiere of Girls. I refused to go to work today with the prospects of making some time for myself. It was a compelled triumph with the company of Lena Dunham's brilliant, erratic but most often than not's slap of reality. There is comfort in watching, whether it is a film or a television series, lives reflecting your dull own, lest with more poetic arguments and color-coded sequence.
I gave up doing my thesis a few minutes ago. For someone facing a deadline at the end of the month, this baneful attitude of self-doubt is killing me. Outside, the moon with less than its majestic full self compensates the black robe of the night with its crowning halo, something the scientific mind would see as a premonition of glim days ahead. But for tonight, I will let it shed light on whatever darkness that sleeps in me.