Saturday, February 19, 2011

My feet ache. So does my whole body. It's cold, it's late, it's Friday, and I'm alone. A perfect timing to be murdered, harassed, or robbed. I felt really apprehensive. I kept hugging myself for protection, hoping that layers of my fat would protect me from the dangers of the real world. I knew I was conspicuous. My top's a bright yellow for a very dark night.When I looked at my phone to check the time, it told me it was already  9 pm. By freshie dorm standards, 9 is late. I missed dinner again.

While walking I was thinking what would I not give to have someone hold my hand as I walk? What would I not give to have someone who'd listen to me blabber about my day, about how I feel? Damn. I'm only this clingy when I'm really sick. I've always believed in Thoreau's principle that the less said about life's sore the better but sometimes I feel like I just have to talk all these out.

I passed by the dorm where I'm staying/working, although I was sure that nobody would notice me passing by, I still felt the urge to walk faster. So faster I walked. I resolved to eating my comfort food (chicken) but was absolutely frustrated when I saw the university shopping center closed. It left me without a choice but to walk a little farther to go to Bermont's to have my piece of chicken, my piece of joy (my chicken joy =.=). On the way to Bermont's I got a little distracted when I saw a dog. Man, I have very strong feelings against dogs. I abhor street dogs with the same passionate loathing that I have with jerks (what's the difference anyway?). Bad omen. I had to walk on the edge of the road because the dog was sashaying in the middle of the sidewalk. Much as I hate it that I have to give way to that repulsive dog whose covering was so thin I can see his intestines, I did coz I don't want to share the same space with it. The panic-attack soon went away, soon enough to make me gain my composure.

On I walk to Bermont's filled with hope that I'd be able to sit down to a nice chair and eat my chicken joy. I waited for the ate to come to me for around 10 minutes. I was already hungry and feeling slightly nauseous because of hunger or stress or irritation or sickness or all of it but still waited. After all, I managed to get to the place looking composed and unhurried. When the ate finally arrived, she told me that they ran out of chicken. Tantamount to telling me that they have ran out of joy to give me.While smiling serenely at her, I was having this violent thought of grabbing her hair and pulling it hard. I left Bermont's because despite other available food, I wasn't prepared to compromise. I'm tired and sick and compromising was the last thing I had on my mind.

I finally arrive at Vicky's even if I was actively trying to avoid ending up to them. I ordered food and became excited when I saw the oil dripping out of the dish I ordered. Much to my disappointment, I HAVE LOST MY SENSE OF TASTE. I can no longer differentiate rice from the dish. I ordered orange juice but I can't taste it. So much for not compromising. So much for having that long walk for a piece of joy. My nose only became itchy and my throat sore. I did fill my stomach but I didn't enjoy my food.

Walking back to my dorm it struck me how lonely my Friday nights are. I love walking but it does get a little lonely sometimes. I look at people walking and I felt like I was the only person walking by myself. I was tired  and very sick but I have to keep walking. Nobody's around to tell me to keep walking anyway. The faster I walk, the less I feel lonely. I cannot afford to stop or slow down because it would give me thinking time. And thinking and feeling while walking and being tired is hard.

2 comments:

alexandria said...

"the less said about life's sore the better" <works, but doesn't work forever

alexandria said...

"the less said about life's sore the better" <works, but doesn't work forever