It's just off.

Have you ever woken up and for some reason you just found yourself in an inexplicable state of anger? Not the residual kind of anger from the night before or the anticipatory kind of anger at the day's coming event... but the kind of anger that gets you to ask yourself why, but the only sensible answer to yourself is you don't know.

I woke up today feeling like that... and I honestly had no idea why.

I just was, and i hated myself for it. But that only made me angrier than I already was, so you could only guess how that turned out.

It's funny really... I didn't exactly wake up at the wrong side of the bed. It's more like, I woke up wrong.

The rest of the day wasn't any better. My head was strung tight and everything else was just too full of shit to deal with. I had, on more than one ocassion, almost slapped somebody down for the littlest offense. But yeah, that's what they deserve for being oh-so-pointless.

I can't help myself. It's one of those days when even if you know nothing's extremely wrong, you just wanna say "Fuck it all" and start throwing your weight around. Then again, maybe I'm the only one who feels like this.

I am a special case after all, so says the therapist.

When days like this come to me, I realize how little all that expensive clinic jailtime has helped me. Coz when you're okay, you're not supposed to feel things like this. They say when you're okay, it's like a 24-hour Prozac high - you feel nothing, and yet you feel happy. 11 long years, 7 kinds of lithium, and 12 phenobarbitals later, I still don't know what that feels like.

A third of the time, I'm out of it. Half of it, i'm completely numb. The rest, i'm either too sad, too entertained, too dazed, or too volatile.

I woke up today feeling angry for no apparent reason. Pretty soon, it's going to go away.

Maybe then I can say I'm alright, and actually know how that means.

Silence is My Friend

Didn't you ever need a quiet moment?

Like in the morning, when you first open your eyes and take in everything you see, hear, and feel after waking up - the steady buzz of the fan, the soft rays of light peeking through the blinds, and the softness of the sheets underneath you. Did those moments just prompt you to get up in a snap, or did they make you linger in your spot, all the while reveling in the silence of your thoughts?

I take the latter. But apparently, the parents think that's not how it's supposed to be. Sigh.

This morning, the father came into the room pretending to look for something. But really, all he was there for was to ask me questions... Nothing serious, just casual questions - how was work? what did you do? was it alright? not too stressful? On any other time, I would've given him more than a penny for my thoughts. But, he caught me in a bad time... bad time for him, anyway. I was having my quiet moment... needless to say, hearing something else than the churning of my thoughts wasn't something I wanted so early in the morning.

So I tell him, "Nothing's wrong, dad. I'm just having a quiet moment." He mistakes this as me closing myself off and quickly takes offense. He rebuts by saying how in his days he could never do that to his parents, how now when he shows concern for his kid and so on... and this is when I cut him off with my question.

"Dad, when you wake up in the moring what's the first thing you do?"

"I do my prayer time."

"Right. So when you're in your prayer time, do you like it when people talk to you? Even if it's just to start a casual conversation?"

He doesn't answer. I knew my question hit a mark.

"It's the same thing with me. The moment I wake up, I let my eyes wake up and my mind space out. It's the only time during the day when I feel like everything inside of me is at peace - it's the only time when the silence I have isn't deafening at all because when I get off of the bed, every part of me becomes active - leaving no space for silent moments anytime during the day."

He doesn't have an answer to this. For a while, I thought I got it through to him. I got my ass off the bed, and started my way towards the bathroom.

"But you don't pray during that time."

I just can't win with them.

Quoting Tree Hill

Even me... I'll be away soon. I can't help it. I'd even go as far as saying I want to... I really do.

Which is why I understand them... for leaving... for wanting out... permanently or otherwise.

Sometimes we come back, though. But that doesn't make us the same people we were before. We're either better or worse, but never the same.

The situations aren't any different. We either get closer or we drift apart... Or, out of sheer denial of the inevitable, try to hold on to what we had before even if we both know there's really no point in trying.

Yes, I do want to leave. I want out for a while.

Because there's too much here... too much unrequieted drama and too much unecessary pain... and no matter how hard I try to be uninvolved, the love for these people just pulls me back smack in the middle of it all.

Not that I'm complaining.

I'm all for listening... and I'm down with the drama... It's part of our lives... of our friendships. I can stand it for as much as my strength can hold me... and I would rather take the pain than give it to any of these people I call my own.

But when it becomes repetitive behavior, so much so that the downward spiral becomes a dangerous whirlpool threatening to stomp all over our sanity, I begin to wonder if there's a good point to all of this.

So even if only for a while, we leave... hoping that when we come back, we return with wider threads of strength to carry us through.

Because none of us know if we'll really be able to take that break again.

oh to write again

I still have writer's block.

Can someone ask god to take this bug away so I can collect my words again?]

Inspiration, i'm telling you... COME SOON.

Rain Effect

I hate the rain.

Depression always sets in when the rain comes... for me, anyways. Plus, there's this one little thing called "the dilemma that is my life" that comes in when there's nothing to do during the rainfall.

But I used to love rain... I used to love the carefree frolic during those spontaneous "I-wanna-bathe-in-the-rain-and-I-will" moments. I used to love the chill it brought, thereby inducing sleepytamad instances where the bed is the only place I'd rather be. Now when it rains, everything is just... gray and dreary.

I can't remember when I started hating the rain. Or maybe I blocked it out of my memory. I can't really tell. All I know is, ever since I've come to express my disdain for it, unpleasant things have always happened when the rain comes.

Like now, for instance. The mother and I are in this huge stare-down after a shouting match earlier on. Though I really wouldn't call it a shouting match, seeing as I didn't yell and she refuses to believe that.

Was I wrong to start calculating the progress of my future? As soon as I put out the mental calculator for that stupid single-digit opening, she was all "NO!" (and yes, she yelled but she refuses to accept that). She was telling me how not to aim low and stop considering those things as probable options... seems like she forgot that just 2 days ago, she told me that if an opportunity comes around, I should take it. She said it was only gonna be a stepping stone anyways.

I took the advice and shit blows in my face, thankyouverymuch.

So now, I'm left here... hurt, confused, and getting angry all over again. It's priceless, really.

The Brooding Part

It's in my nature to brood. I can't help it.

Sometimes I just do.

Seems like the new year isn't really starting right for me. My plans are set, but it seems that my hesitations are getting the best of me. I fear for the future... and mostly I just fear for me.

I found comfort in 2006. Somehow I found myself and I was able to keep sane for the most part. However, I'd be lying if I told myself and everyone else that life is just peachy from here. The truth is... everything is far from Pleasantville.

I keep looking forward to that flight that'll take me to the place I've always wanted to be in, but far be it from me to expect that the journey to the airport will be as smooth as a baby's ass. Heck, I might not even make it there. But here's to hoping.

Some days I still wish I wouldn't open my eyes to wake for the next one. Most days, I feel as though I'm just going through the motions. Depressing, I know. Like i said, I'm a brooder. It's in my nature to be a pessimist. Seriously though, I've had fewer "alive" moments this year. Then again, I was concentrating on surviving against the tide that was my bad self.

Maybe this year, I can manage the "living" part.