Drop the breadcumbs

The first quarter of the year is up and I have been nowhere in the way of getting somewhere until very lately.

Let me backtrack a little.

2010 to me was the biggest year to ever unfold yet. It was no less than the year when I earned a college degree, moved to the metro, got my hands on a first job and paycheck, and broke my heart. Yes, the last thing was supposed to come across with no fuss.

Forgive the sappiness but my first rational relationship crumbling outmatched all other events of last year more than I have cared to admit. Last year, I got everything I asked for. But, in a way, I lost even more.

There’s a recent study done by the University of Michigan which claims that between physical and emotional pain, there can not be drawn significant differences. Consequently, physical pain may have corresponding emotional manifestations and vice versa.

2011 is, by far, the year when I was at my poorest of health. I could have sworn I felt green about the gills to be hospitalized thrice in two months. Endoscopy, blood transfusion, transvaginal ultrasound were but few of the procedures I had to submit myself into. I did not want to believe I was as pale and frail as a woman who gave birth to her fourth child only hours ago. As to why several of my body systems got fucked up all at the same time, I have the study in the University of Michigan to perhaps give a lead to my doctors.

Having to go to and fro the hospital meant taking a long leave from my non-9-to-5-paced job which led to poor scorecards and eventually to non-regularization. Becoming jobless meant a voluntary vacay to my hometown in Zambales which entailed sun and sand worship and alcohol tolerance battle with my sorely-missed high school friends for the most part.

Yet as unemployment is euphemized as time off from the hurly-burly of the city and time spent strutting by the beach instead, it has irked me to an extent. It implies way much of idle time for me to overthink things of the past, hence, feel rigid and stuck. But more than anything, it sucks so terribly to have had insufficient funds especially since Adam Levine is coming to Manila by the 23rd already. God, the concert tickets are pricey but hey, if it’s seeing a he-slut rock in concert is the prize then it would be worth every single cent. So it goes without saying that I use Adam as ulterior motive to want to roll up my sleeves again. I kid.

With the Easter just over, I figured it is high time to get back up from rock-bottom. Time heals all wounds, says a popular adage. But I reckon the unpopular one makes more sense to me. Time wounds all heels. It wouldn’t hurt less if I linger so might as well carry on.

My eyes gleamed to see the city lights again. My feline boyfriend let out a serene purr knowing his only household ally is back. One interview down this morning. I have dates to mark with eagerness in my calendar. I’m finding my way home.


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