F.

Take note of the sad smiles, the things unsaid. Hate the way your skin looks when you haven’t slept. Realize you should have gone home immediately at 1PM, not 5. Everyone has plans. Feel unusually lonely. Buy a Big Mac meal to eat on the bus ride home.

Find that there are no seats. Squeeze yourself later on beside an overly-affectionate couple. Hate the way the bus is moving too slow because of rush hour traffic. Realize the airconditioning vent positioned above you isn’t working. Eat your ice cream anyhow. Feel your stomach grumble. Yearn for the Big Mac you just bought but couldn’t eat because your row is too cramped. Hate every song that comes on the radio.

Bump your head on the window when bus suddenly screeches to a halt. Realize driver has just lost control of the vehicle. Believe you are dying any moment now. Find yourself in the middle of EDSA and feel the bus moving slowly backward about to crash into any speeding car nearby. Feel your body suddenly thrown forward. Hear everyone shouting for help. Feel panic yourself as everyone is rushing to get out.

Find yourself in the middle of the highway clutching books and a takeout paperbag. Your brother suddenly decides now is the best time to call and so feel your phone going berserk to the tune of Kjwan’s Pintura. Ignore him. Hail every taxi cab that passes by. Find them all occupied. Wait another fifteen minutes. See the bus you were riding almost crash again to another vehicle. See a weird guy lurking nearby and so run to a footbridge. Curse.

Finally succeed in hailing a cab. Be grateful for driver’s lack of commentary or requests for a tip. Like his silence. He probably sensed how rough your day has been. Float to your home in the outskirts of the city in a dream. Realize you have been spending only on essentials the whole week and so before this whole blasted ride home, you had four hundred pesos in your wallet. Now one hundred and fifty is going to cab fare. Find saving up the whole week useless. Hate the way the world operates.

Reach home safely. Feel your head throbbing in pain. Whip out your phone and this app and start venting, else you’ll explode. Big Mac’s probably cold now. Realize you have lost your appetite.

Realize you have been making bad decisions all throughout the sem. Realize timing’s a bitch. Hope for a better day, a better month. Daydream about moving to Dumaguete next year to leave this city that you know you love deeply but now is just nauseating to be part of, like a marriage that has grown stale, suffocating. Plan to drown your sorrows in literature and Belgian chocolates and staying locked up in your room the whole weekend. Realize that probably isn’t the best way to console yourself, much less the best way to feel better. Don’t care. Believe you just need time away from everything, more time, even if you have been avoiding people for weeks now. Promise yourself you won’t feel this low by Monday.

Grow tired of this anguish. Grow tired of trying so damn hard to make things better. Believe they will, in due time. Wonder when is that. Hope it’s soon. Sleep.

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