This morning I didn't want to get out of bed. I have always found great solace in sleep. Just like food, sleep is a barometer of my depression level. Sleeping time is directly proportional to my depression. Hence it follows that my length of sleep is inversely proportional to my degree of self-satisfaction at the moment.
Despite my claim of being the greatest sloth in the world, I find comfort in work during Sundays. If anything, it keeps my mind off certain things I shouldn't be thinking about. A bit escapist, but I'm one of those who feel that working is therapeutic in a lovely, albeit painful way. So this morning, I decided to kick off my lethargy with two cups of San Miguel Extra Strong coffee and work the day away.
While I was midway through my second cup, I managed to unearth several old notes from way back. Something caught my eye and made me a bit more contemplative than I should be. It was an old poem I made when I still dabbled in poetry, back when I was still too naive to think I could write and create decent ones. I guess these musings on scratch paper very aptly describes the root of the melancholy I very badly want to erase today. Here goes...
Ang tagal mo naman!
kung hihintayin kita, anong oras?
Wala naman tayong usapan.
Walang appointment na pwede kong asahan.
Wala kang iniwang beeper o cellphone
na pwede kong tawagan.
Hindi kaya ako nagmumukhang tanga?
Nagbibilang ng oras, umaasa sa wala?
O baka naman, may katagpo ka nang iba?
Diyos ko naman, sana wala pa!
At sana di tayo nagkasalisihan!
Papunta ako dun, naghahanap sa 'yo,
habang ikaw naman ay papunta na rito.
O, ano? Libre ka kaya?
Kung hindi mamaya, bukas?
Sa isang linggo? Sa isang taon?
Ah, ewan. Bahala ka.
Kahit kelan, bahala na.
Basta, hihintayin kita.
Mamuti man ang mata,
lulunukin ang inip, ang pagod.
Ang pagtiktak ng relo,
sa kabilang tenga palalabasin ko.
Ipipikit ang mga mata, at baka sa pagdilat,
Naririyan ka na.
Darating ka kaya?
At kung sa kahihintay, ako'y tumanda,
hindi ko iyon alintana.
Basta't darating ka,
sulit naman, 'di ba?
Ngunit ang hirap naman nito.
Mabuti sana, kung di ko alam
Ang pangalan mo.
I've written that piece of junk a long time ago. But some things just don't change no matter how we fight them off. Sometimes it's just best to get carried away. So I got out of bed. With two cups of extra strong coffee in my system and an old poem in my shaking hands, I proceeded to my office and went straight to my computer.
If posting this is a bit too bold and too honest, and the combination of boldness and honesty is a crime, then, I'm guilty as charged.