I’m Tired.

Really, really exhausted from everyday. These are the days when I just want to be sure I am loved and just nod off to sleep. But I can’t.

I feel as if there is a 2-inch thick glass between me and the world. Things are just not that real anymore. Things that would have caused me to cut incessantly now barely concern me. Hurrah. The magic of antipsychotics.

Tinkerbelly makes me smile.

I like animals precisely because there is no way to tell if they love me back. You don’t have to go through guessing games, and broken hearts and little deaths everyday. If they bite you, they don’t like you. If they lick you, they like you. Simple.

Boredom, Insights & Rats

When I don’t have a paper to rush, or to eat 3 square meals a day in the lab, or nothing to read, or no powerpoint to make, or no exam to study for… my life is incredibly meaningless.

I don’t know what to do, where to go, what to surf.

—

Insight #1: I shy away from weakness because it mirrors my own.

Insight #2: I am afraid of being hurt. (DUH).

Insight #3: I value holding hands more than all the words said to please me.

Insight #4: I’m lucky to have such wonderful people in my life.

Insight #5: My life is fucked up, and the fucked-up-ness is restricted to me alone.

Insight #6: I can’t imagine myself in med school because I have always planned suicide before I even get to med school.

Insight #7: I’ll comply with my medications if I knew what my actual diagnosis is.

Insight #8: I cannot be loved unless I love myself first.

Insight #9: I will never love myself.

Insight #10: I’m always addicted to something and I always have to overdose with something.

—

Tinkerbelly gave birth to just one little baby. And, although she struggles to clean and care for her baby, she has no milk.

So the little one now has two mothers, me and Tinkerbelly. I am hand-rearing her, feeding her some of Miggy’s milk painstakingly from a medicine dropper with a very thin capillary tube at the end. Tinkerbelly gets to cuddle her, clean her and make her understand that she is a rat and not a human being.

Fanatic

Lately, I feel as if I’m wandering around, just vaguely aware of what I’m doing. No, it’s not like I’m floating. It’s more like I feel like there is a screen between me and my body. I don’t have concrete memories of things I’ve been doing lately. I remember them somewhat, but they’re not as real to me.

Strange. Weird. Scary.

And yet strangely, it’s saving me day by day.

—

Thesis isn’t done.
I’m flunking Organic Chemistry.I wonder if I’ll make it. If I do, it’s Bora time.

But if I don’t…

I don’t want to wonder just yet on what I’ll do.

I feel numb mostly. I don’t know if I’m lonely or if I just want to be alone.

—

I gave Tinkerbelly a bath yesterday and I used strawberry shampoo.Now she’s like a soft, fat, fluffy tube that grabs french fries from my hand.

Christmas, Dawn and Regression

I wake up paralyzed, eyes open but unable to move and, worse- unable to scream.

I should be used to this. I am. The terror refreshes itself each time.

Googling “sleep paralysis,” I came upon this classic depiction of it:

The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli (1781)

Can you blame me for not wanting to sleep?

—

Christmas always gives me frostbite.

I have not yet forgiven Santa Clause for being plastered all over the place and still not existing. My first heartbreak was providing coffee and biscuits (for Santa) and grass (for his reindeer) under the Christmas tree and finding the grass thrown back to the garden in the morning (because they “ate” it) as if I wouldn’t notice.

On the other hand, everyone is giving birth, I swear!

Ana is due anytime this week for baby Anika.
Javi’s wife is also expecting Matteo in a few weeks.

Add to that the ones below three: Miguel, Mauro, Diego and Bianca.

Baby Boom.

I just can’t imagine myself engulfing a human being like some sort of phagocytotic vesicle, which will bud off one day to smile at you, make you laugh, make you clean poo and other whatnots.

—

“She’s not faithful to you.”

Drama?

Nah. And I’m not lesbo either.

My favorite rat in the world, Tinkerbelly, ran away yesterday. So my Tita was trying to console me because I was too damn melancholic as I ate my Nero pasta (which, by the way, blackened my teeth and added to the overall effect).

After having lunch at Tagaytay, I came home, saw that she did not return (duh) and howled. I cried like someone died. I scared me. Really. Sobbing wouldn’t be appropriate because it really wasn’t sobbing but howling, cringing, crying.

Then I heard Louie getting mad at the maid for not looking for it.

Then she comes in , swears that she tried to find it, but that she will look again.

So she rummaged through my closet and found Tinkerbelly attuned to my crying underneath my pile of comforters.

She looked as if she was listening intently to me cry. I swore that I will never let that happen again and had their cage redesigned.

(Nerd alert. Sorry.)