Bedtime Soliloquy

July 8, 2009

I terribly miss writing. My alter ego which happens to be an aspiring writer is shamelessly slacking off in her frozen ink. Well, not really. I still have my daily share of small literary stretches either in the form of sarcasm or false admiration. Either that or I keep sane by shutting up to make the world even more beautiful. Haha. But seriously, I am so pre-occupied with lots of stuff lately, juggling between work, school, and yeah, yoga practices. I’m trying to get as much as I can in so little time.

Which brings me to the time when I was literally slacking off.

A few years back, the world was just a macrocosm of a fastfood chain for me. I come and I go. I’ve always had high regard for myself but too little ambition. In short, I didn’t know how I was to live my life back then. Anything comfortable, however ordinary, is still the best. I was a child with a fresh diploma, smelling like rancid puke. My horizon was a finite line of uncertainty drawn with ‘too much of not enough’ (as DJ would say..)

All applicable in matters concerning career, relationships, and the self.

I had a high-paying job paying me to eventually lose my sanity, patience, and intellect, empty romantic and platonic relationships that satisfied my need for attention, and alcohol to fill in the uncategorized gaps of my mundane existence. I had bad cases of temporary contentment, and worse cases of mood swings. I was a puzzle of multiple pictures that you would want to burn.

That was me. About three years ago.

Today, I sit in front of my computer, my body sore but not sober — completely on my own but loved, nonetheless — thinking about my modest-paying job that pays me to eventually become the best at what I do –- and the people who filled in this empty airhead.

My current life is far from being comfortable, almost unbearable to say the least. But I wish to stay out of comfort now that leads to temporary contentment. I will go on in search for every breaking light, every fresh incision, every mad love, every impossibility, every waking day of opportunity to be better.

Because this is how we live.