Rainy days are here again.. I cannot see anything from the 11th floor of this building, the fog has wiped out the streets below, and the tall buildings nearby are barely visible.. reminds me of a surreal story by Stephen King, where some prehistoric dinosaurs invaded a city while covered by a huge gray fog.. creepy!!

I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, it was pouring, and it was much comfortable to just lie down and hide behind the covers.. but then I had to go to work, so I dragged myself out of bed, dreaming of a steaming arroz caldo waiting for me. But of course there was no arroz caldo when I arrived at the office, only smug faced people, who were probably wishing that they too didn't get out of bed..

I'm wearing a sweater, and on top of it, a jacket, hoping to keep myself warm. It's so cold here that even the hot water that I got from the dispenser only 5 minutes ago is now frosting.. I keep noticing things.. little things that I never seemed to notice before..

Yesterday I was reading Old Ghosts by A.J. McKenna, a story of a man on his 76th birthday remembering his first love. I liked the last line:

"The clock in the parlour ticks and tocks and finally stops. Forever."

The story was a failed love, but then, isn't it always the sad things that people most usually write about? I hope I will find my words soon, then I can be the sculptor of stories, both imagined and experienced, of sad songs and sad poems, and everything in between. Today, my emotions are as cold as the weather, neither rejoicing nor suffering, I am floating like that leaf, drowning like the rain, forever being blown by the wind.. gently, gently.. against the softness of the clouds.

There is nothing more for me to write, I tell myself. I have sunk back to my melancholy mood, and the world passes by like a haze of confusion through my eyes. And yet I should be happy, if only my happiness excludes that of the others, if only I were not easily affected by certain people's moods and actions, if only i would care less about other people's welfare.. then maybe I would be happy. I remember the answer a friend once told me when I asked her if she was happy.. "Just contented" was the reply. A very wise answer indeed. Perhaps shoegazer was right when he quoted Kahlil Gibran's prophet "Your joy is your sorrow unmasked,... if we are full of joy, it is because we have been hollowed out by sadness like a vessel waiting to be filled"

No, I am not hurting. I am devoid of emotions, and in this emptiness I open my eyes to the reality of the meanings I once accepted with closed eyes. Sometimes I don't know if I say too much and mean less or if my words are nothing but mirrors of my confused mind. I am like a dada painter, brushing a few strokes here and there, and passing off my work as a masterpiece.

I mask my words, for if I were to say too much, then a flood of emotions would rush out and drown me. So I choose my words carefully, until my writings and my self would seem like oil on water.

This is senseless.. I must stop now.

Later tonight, I will go home, walking along the same unlighted streets.. and I will remember.. I will recall words, both spoken and unspoken, and I shall be lost in thought once more..

Wondering why I feel so alone..

And yet I know, there is no other way I would want it to be than this.

I am about to survive the weekend with not even a measly peso in my pocket. Things has gone from bad to worse since Friday night at Dish Cafe. And it's not even about the money, or rather the lack of it. Money is the most superficial problem in the world. It is people, people with their love for gossip and twisted stories of others' lives that will bring this world to shambles.

These cursed people are yet to be the cause of my ruin. Why can't the world just mind itself while I live on with my life. I guess this place really hates me, and no matter what I do, things will always go wrong. I belong nowhere and to nobody.. I am the wind, I am the rock being crushed by the waves of the sea. I am a nobody, a wanderer hitchhiking on some deserted road, finding the path to wherever my home is. There is no road sign, no stop light, no lighthouse to guide me. I am lost, as lost as anyone can ever be. And it is my fault, my mistake, the blasted ignorance of my reasoning, I have buried myself in a pit once again, and maybe, just maybe, this time there will be no turning back, there will be no saving grace, maybe there will be no tomorrow for me...

Delusions fill my mind, and I cannot say if it is from too much sleep or work or love or hate or the lack of all of these. I am drunk with feelings that are about to burst from my chest, and my head is pounding with anger. I am tired, and cannot fight the tides anymore. I will have to let go now.. It is in drowning that one is born again.. Maybe the next life for me would be easier, with no more pain nor sorrow nor bitter choices.

I shall follow that light from the distance.. I shall be free at last..

"Goodbye proud world, I'm going home..."