Tension was too much for me to handle this day. My day has officially started, the way I see it, after I stepped into that clogged jeep, where passengers have different worlds but heading to that same direction for different purposes. Paying to the driver one by one, I was thinking about where that money came from and whether I once hold those coins but was passed on to others or if I will be holding those same coins sometime in my life. I was wondering whether these people had the same day I had but they seem to be different. They seem to be busy and got no time like mine to do senseless things as thinking about what they must be thinking and what their lifestyles are. Traffic delayed us all. I was not rushing at all, no deadlines to meet, no appointments to be punctual on yet I wanted to be home as soon as possible so that I can rest unlimitedly and talk to my mom about these things I am keeping for myself.
I wondered if it’s going to rain. The wind is forceful and it was getting cold. The timing was perfect. I have no umbrella and I was wearing a pretty thin white dress perfect for summer’s heat. Imagining tiny raindrops kissing my skin drained by the sun must feel that good. It might also bring my excitement back. The sound of horns almost made me irritated but there was no point in being so. That day was everything I wished I could have. Friday marks the end of my hell week but it seemed like it wasn’t. I wasn’t rejoicing in any way. Yes, I was saying, “Yes! Examinations are done!” but I can’t convince myself that I really was glad. The red light is like a moon, only it seemed overhead, reachable and just a jump away, unlike the moon who’s always staying from afar, along with the distant stars, unreachable and impossible to hold close. I was wondering if people see that red light the way I was seeing it or maybe, just maybe, they are seeing hearts in it.
I stepped out and walked towards the terminal that will take me home, finally, thinking about how to blog this day so that it won’t sound that awful as it already is. I gave up, admitting that I cannot write something opposite from what I am feeling. I’ve given up because I can’t fool myself by doing something fun and uplifting when I am in my down moments. The huge billboard tells me that a coke a day makes the bad trip away. I thought, “I wish it was true” but nevertheless, I should be concerned about going home. After all, it’s kind of late. I walked and saw eyes landing on me. People must be thinking about how my day was too, the way I was thinking about theirs. Maybe they were wondering why I smile sarcastically and I wonder about the same thing. There was a blind lady, asking for some donations, singing in such a melodic voice which almost made me smile, but her lyrics run thus: “Wish I could live three lives, so that there are no regrets, no painful things to worry about,” and I thought about her life and what is she feeling whenever she sings that song. I doubted if she felt the way I did after hearing those lyrics, if ever she is realizing her past, too. I walked the path I used to take; there stood still the man who sells fish balls to starving people trying to wipe their hunger in there. There was still the man who sells candies and cigarettes to people who feels dizzy in travels and those addicted to cocaine. There was still the barker, shouting at the top of his voice, catching attention of people for dear life. Everything seems like they are in their respective places. Everything seems normal except maybe for me whose hunger, fatigue and head ache are starting to penetrate within. I wasn’t sure about what’s wrong. Either was I certain if there is anything wrong but it seems like there is… a lot.