I was cleaning up my inbox when i saw this. I wrote this six years ago.

My apartment smells like stale smoke from week-old cigarettes. The summer heat is slowly melting the rank sweat that clung to the walls. The bed is untidy and pillows are all over the place. Cigarette packs serve as conversation pieces.

I stare at my mobile, waiting for a message that I knew would not come while my cigarette slowly burns.

I just woke up from a disturbed sleep. That’s the kind of sleep I’ve been having these past few days. As I sit there, half asleep, my mind still brushing away the cobwebs of dreams, I pondered on the things that have happened. Some existential bullshit I’ve been forcing myself lately.

The air is sticky with humid much like in a rubber suit. I take a drag, the nicotine invade my lungs once more. I reach out for a glass of water just to wash the bitter taste away. My room mate hasn’t come home yet, so I am left alone to my own devices, trying to pass the time as I gather my thoughts.

I’ll be turning 25 this year. A quarter of a century. Old by most standards. I’m one in a generation experiencing the ‘quarter-life crisis.’ A new term coined for us folks who grew up right smack in the break-neck speed of technological evolution. A world where lines are blurred between the virtual and the real one.

My throat aches from the invasion of the poison I force into my body everyday. My mobile rings, jolting me out of my thoughts.

One of my clients needs a report.

There you go. I have no personal life anymore. People bug me even if i’m out of the office. I don’t reply. It’s my day off, give me a break.

I drag myself off the bed, flick the cancer stick away and try to fix myself a decent meal. I have an erratic meal schedule.

As erratic as my own personal life.

I can still feel my parent’s disappointment everytime they see me. I can hear the words they never utter but have been playing in their heads: you wasted your life, dirtbag.

That ruined my appetite. I was preparing myself for a long and lazy day, but my mind had plans of its own. I will not be at peace today. Crap.

I mentally ticked off all the things that I need to do for the day and like the procrastinator that I am, decided to do away with them altogether. It’s my off for chrissakes, I want the day to pass by without me doing any productive work.

Or maybe I could just clean the apartment. Maybe not. There’s too much clutter, I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to complicate my life by prioritizing which areas to clean first. besides, I’m not getting sick yet of the chaos, it’s all good.


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