Am I pleased that this has become a norm now? Even during small talk? No, not really. It’s sort of been my standard answer to questions like, “How are things?”, “How’s it going?”, “What’s up?”, and the one I dread the most : “How are you?”. Now, almost everyone else gives me the same answer : “I don’t know”.

People closest to me or who I frequently speak to would get the occasional “Ehhh!?” with my signature “Ehhh?!” face (they know what I’m talking about). I honestly do not know the answer to that question.

Sometimes I also feel like answering that in this manner :

Recently, someone called me narrow-minded, pointing out how I only focus on “tomorrow”, and not “the big picture”. First of all, I do not have the privilege to look at the big picture. Not right now, I don’t. I mean, does that even exist? All I see is a blank canvas yet to be hung on the wall. The world is in slow reset. All I could do at this point is “survive” on a daily basis. I think we all do — the ones who aren’t privileged to not worry about … basically anything else (most of us are still pretty privileged, I know, but you know what I mean).

ANYWAY. I’m basically just typing about whatever comes to mind. I don’t really do that anymore, and today I kind of feel called to, because … word vomit.

Since everything started easing up on my side of the world, I also started to spend more time out with friends, both old and new, mostly involving late nights, drinking and smoking. It kind of felt good to have a bit of normalcy back. I wasn’t the type who drinks a lot, but 2020 sort of gave me “no choice”. One thing I also learned, is that I’m not the type who actually gets drunk-drunk with a group of people on a night out, however, whenever this one friend is involved, I am guaranteed to go home shitfaced. It’s like a bit from The Great Gatsby in our table, honestly. I’ve also sort of developed this habit to get super wasted when I’m alone, which I totally enjoy in the comfort of my apartment — most of the people I know, don’t.

Having said that, I am typing this entry severely hungover. I have not had anything to eat besides Cookies since this morning, because for some reason, I don’t really have the appetite to eat whenever I’m hungover, which just makes things worse. But please take comfort in knowing that I will be stuffing my face with Pizza for Dinner.

I’ve been somewhat giving myself shit for drinking so much, but like, how can you honestly not? I’m not totally reliant on it, too — I usually drink just so I could sleep? Most days, at least. Some days I honestly just want to “party” at home … in this manner.

The weather is horrendous, but it hasn’t stopped me from enjoying my Ciggie Breaks. Some days I’ve been blessed to actually have the smoking area all to myself. I would lean on the bench and actually … breathe. I take deep breaths during, and then I close my eyes for a few seconds.

Everything feels like it’s in suspension. I still struggle with this reality sometimes because I would pressure myself to do something, anything — but really, what is there to do? Nothing at this point. We just take it a day at a time, as I always say. Why do I tend to forget that, and then give myself shit for not doing “anything”? I have no idea.

There are days when it hits me, too — how I’ve kept the forking fort down all this time. It should be easy for someone like me to spiral, but I didn’t. I sometimes literally give myself a pat in the back, or a shoulder rub, to congratulate myself out loud for doing so well … in my standards.

Yesterday, a Senior Colleague saw me reading Rumi and looked kind of impressed. “He’s a famous Philosopher!”, he said. I brought it to work because I wanted to copy a page or two, tear them, and stick them on my journal, which I just did today. I placed it on top of my desk.

It was the book I took with me to Seychelles, and looking at it gives me fond memories of doing nothing but lazing by the sandbar, teasing my toes with saltwater for hours and hours on end. Can you believe it would be a year since by next month? A FULL YEAR. It felt like fucking yesterday when I was my blissful, happy, burnt self. What I’d give to go back to those days. What I’d give.

Sometimes I think of how emotions scare people. I wonder if I would be better off not feeling this way about life, about love. Imagine if I could just be with a person and not want something so fucking strong, imagine if I could just … settle? But no. It is a strength to feel. It is a strength to be vulnerable. I will take pride in that forever.

I honestly appreciate this time we’re given to just sit. And think. And think. And feel. Most days I try to name my feelings. I try to figure out where they stem from, and why I feel them. Most days it gets tiring. Most days I run away from them, but I know facing them is the right thing to do. Then when I think there is no more “work” done, something else triggers me, and it’s a whole ‘nother thing to unpack.

Right now, all I know is that I am truly grateful for everything that’s happened, for everything I decided to do. I know that I am where I am meant to be. Now I have to accept that it’s all I can do for now : just be.

P.S. – Time moves so freakin’ slow when you’re hungover.