“Don’t cry because it’s over; cry because you will never have sex with Mila Kunis/ Ryan Gosling.”
I saw this quote from another wordpress blogger and I really had a good laugh reading this post. So how did I end up being on that page? The truth is, I’m afraid I’m a cynic in the making and it’s quite alarming.
The other day I met up with a friend whom I haven’t seen in a while. We sipped coffee, had a few laughs, and catch up on the latest happenings in each other’s lives. And suddenly I was asked the most dumb question ever and at the same time, the hardest one to answer: Are you happy? For a moment I just stared at her and recollect my thoughts to figure out how to answer this stupid question. And after a while I managed to answer Yes and No. The thing is, there’s nothing wrong with my life as of the moment. In terms of career-life, I can say that I’m in a pretty neat place; I have a good job that supports my bills, needs and luho. I may work longer hours but I couldn’t manage to complain because I’m enjoying it. Just very recently, I was able to close a pretty huge deal and I’m pleased seeing how the fruits of my labor had turned out. Am I happy at that moment? Yes, I was happy and giddy actually. But when I got home, I only slept the whole afternoon. Yes, I just slept when I should be out with some friends, celebrating and drowning my ass off with booze and all that, but instead I just slept. I felt so tired and so uninspired…
I never realized that there’s something building up inside me until when I was driving that night to met up with some friends and on the way to their place, I was crying inside my car. Like, out of nowhere, all of a sudden, I felt the anxiety building up and the only way to get rid of it was to cry my eyes out. In a way, it felt good because I haven’t cried in a while. But you see, it’s freaky how all of a sudden these emotions swelled up. Then it hit me, I’m just a sad little person. Everything about my life has been routinely. I wake up every morning at 6:30 a.m. Get ready for work and grab some breakfast, I seldom drive nowadays because it’s starting to bore me out, driving. Like, I needed to see some new scenery and other people so I sometimes commute to work. From 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. I’m working. Most of the time I work until 8 or 9 p.m. Then if my schedule permits, I’d go jogging with my neighbors at U.P. grounds in Diliman. Then go home and do the same thing all over again the next day.
I don’t know how to have fun anymore. I don’t have the will to dress up nicely at work or wherever I’m going anymore. Tequila and vodka tastes weird in my buds nowadays and doesn’t seem exciting anymore. I don’t go out and drink my ass off in the bars and clubs anymore. I’m not even inspired to cook, to paint and to my horror, even to write in my blogsite. I refuse to entertain suitors because I always assume that things will eventually end up bad and that my thoughts are, to save us both the time and efforts then stop trying, as simple as that. I can’t even remember the feeling of having butterflies in my belly as I anticipate the first kiss. Big or little things don’t get to excite me anymore, even when I see the waitress carrying my ordered meal! Right? I can’t remember the last time that I ate with passion and really take pleasure in the meal that I’m taking. For pete’s sake, I eat in front of my desktop?! How sick is that?? I’m starting to became a cynical zombie who is so empty and lonely inside who has lost the will to be happy and uninspired that lives a boring, regular life. And I’m telling you it’s sad, it’s really sad…
I’m 25 years old and have the whole world beneath my feet yet how come I feel 20 years senior?? I feel like I’m a car in desperate need of a jump-start. Or a personal computer that needs to be shut down and reformat. I need someone or something or whatever there is that might inspire me and bring back the joy to my life! I’d take it, whatever it is, I’d take it. Give me joy, humor, excitement, fear or pain. I swear I’d take it. Just make me feel again..
“Remember, beneath every cynic there lies a romantic, and probably an injured one.”