I'm so lazy; I could die.
After publishing "Starry Friend" this morning, I fell asleep.
Trying my best to get rid of the congestion in my nose/throat and that effervescent
headache. I can't believe sipping some icy chocolate milk last night resulted
in another stupid case of a sore throat. Coughing till now. What is so bloody
wrong with my current immunity? I hope this is a sure sign that Death is near.
As dramatic as usual.
Noon beckoned with its warmth and I woke. Lazily. Hopelessly. My dream
involved school papers, scholarships, and a restaurant. I should have recorded
every bit of it and turned it into a surreal story. I wonder if fiction writers
always dream about the most ridiculous and curious scenes. The kinds that
overwhelm us so much that we must write about them and tell the world.
How did eight hours elapse without my relentless attempt at completing
seven articles in a day? I have set a goal with tomorrow's Tuesday as the
deadline: forty posts. I need fifteen more to go, which means eight today and
seven tomorrow. Feasible. If I refrain from slacking too often. Quit ogling
those lovable animals on Cute Overload. They're evil!
Think poetry. Write some.
Brainless days like this freeze my brain and leave me in despair. A
blank white screen stares at me with document titles waiting to be elaborated.
Feeling like the biggest failure. But when I told myself I would do something,
I will. Even if it kills me to prove it. To prove myself.
And... when I checked my phone messages and work email just now, the
secretary asked me to substitute for another teacher for a whole week, in that
haunted building, tutoring those remiss bank workers. I don't like the
waiting-for-students worthlessness. But it seems that she was desperate for not
being able to find another teacher. I felt rather sorry for her. So I said
okay. Still waiting for her to call me tomorrow morning.
Another week to endorse the life of a wage slave. Not something I look
forward to. Hoping I won't get sicker. Or I can just spend my days silently dreaming of
you. Inhaling the music of your loneliest heart.
Monday, February 13, 2012, 10:55 PM
Infatuation turning into disease is from Spill Canvas's song "All over You".
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