Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Three Years, Six Months and Shouty Capitals

I wish I could tell the barista that this cake meant
more than just dessert.
If I were to describe my midweek, this is the first time I got all rushed up. I received this email from one of the bosses to my surprise in shouty capitals asking for help. While it actually alarmed me, I just played it cool remembering the exchange of emails I got to read in the Fifty Shades trilogy. I even got to tell my boss it reminded me of the book I was reading.

Lunchtime came and I found myself going to Starbucks for dessert. Today's the 18th of the month -- three years and six months since that night in 2009 when I made one giant yet difficult decision. As I walk back to the office, it started to sink in. For the longest time, I was free. I've been celebrating that freedom every time the 18th comes. But lately it has been coming to a point that I tend to forget that.

The past few weeks before this I've been enduring this unexplained dysphoria. Probably, it's because lately, I realize this "longing for something" and being "alone" is no longer funny at all. I have noticed questioning at a certain point of the day (or night). I would find myself asking if this situation that I am in will ever come to an end; and if so, the other question is when. Some nights ago, I remember asking myself (and my heart, for that matter) if it can still bear the situation it is going through for two more years. At that point, tears just welled up. I knew it meant the answer is not anymore. But then there are things that are out of my control. And this is among them

Going back to the workplace, with the warm breeze kissing my face, I came to a resolve:

This will be the last time I'll be looking up to the 18th. It will only be an ordinary day on my calendar.

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