I am a tired girl.

Where do I even begin?

Putangina hindi ko din alam.

That I fall out of love with my job just as soon as I grow tired of everything else in my life. That I listen to the same song for bazillion years. That I just pitched my slot to hell. That I do not know any better.

Putangina hindi ko din alam.

Where do I even begin?

If I would compartmentalize my state of emotions today, define it, give a name to it, revoke it, chew it like a gum, put it under a vandalism-filled arm chair, drown it in memories (only to remember days after), and put it on a pie chart, this is how it would look like:

And quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind hibernating for two, three, x number of years. I need a break for gahdsake.

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