Do-overs and realizations (Feat. Sara Bareilles & Iggy Azalea)

So I just poured my morning rants out in a very unpremeditated manner via my previous blog post and I thought it was not only an impromptu but also, poorly constructed. Maybe I should just quit hitting "publish" every time I got to let go of something, eh?

After that blog post (which probably won't be read by anyone anyway, so what the fuss is this fuss about?) I knew I still had to go on with my life, of course. I still had an accounting lecture to attend to, so after lunch, I bathed and prepared myself. It's a Saturday and on such days, we do not wear our uniform.

Do-over 

Imagine the horror that comes with deciding on what to wear. Ladies, hear me? I know, right?

Bitch, my closet isn't as tidy as yours. Shut up.

I have found myself in the situation where I really really really like a certain outfit. I don't want to sound vain, but I have this thing about wearing my clothes repeatedly - it makes me really annoyed with myself. But since I really really really liked that shirt, I wouldn't care if I hang myself for wearing it again. And then I just got tired of it. And then I see it as garbage. 

So I move on to the next favorite shirt that I managed to add up to the garbage category. Then some more. Until the only wearable, un-garbagey thing in my closet is a shirt that I didn't even liked in the first place. In the end I decided on wearing a tank top and a cardigan. Very chic.

Realization

I realized that I have a pathetic policy about wearing out my clothes. Not only because I get to turn my favorite clothes into garbage but also because my closet is a breathing entity. 

Yeah, maybe next week I will organize it.

It practically has a life of its own and I won't be surprised if I learn that there's a closet monster somewhere in that huge pit of fabric.

Do-over

After playing dress-up, I applied makeup. Whats a girl to do? (Never mind the hair, my hair reflects my state of mind.) I find happiness in makeup. Tell me I am not the only one.

And so I applied and removed and applied and removed. Just because I love the glitters and the colors and the effect on my hopeless face.

Realization

I am going to school so I better not make any smoky-eye and dramatic contouring. Besides, I would look funny wearing that much makeup when all I had to do was sit for four hours and listen to the professor and write and listen and not be appreciated for aesthetics. It's accounting, what would you expect?

Do-over

Just before I head out the door, I received a text from my friend, Joy. She was asking what time I should be in school, because she's clingy like that. Kidding. She just goes to school every other day, so we need to catch-up on things. After the crying episode that morning, I realized that there's no sense in carrying the depression over until the end of the day.

During the ride to school, I felt better. It was sunny but not hot, and the weather is nice. Iggy Azalea was asking who dat, who dat that do dat, do dat. Because she be the I-G-G-Y and she'll put her name in bold. She's fancy like that.

Realization

My music is playing on shuffle. I didn't even realize that Sara Bareilles is making me teary-eyed, as if I was listening to a Nicholas Sparks audiobook, when she was just singing about a really old city in the center of Queens.

Sara, why are you doing this to me? 

I don't know why I cried, okay?

Realization

I guess I just feel like my life is going way too fast for me, and the only way I can cope up is to vent it out. But of course, being the weirdo that I am, I can't find the way to express my deepest, darkest issues. Even I can't enumerate them myself, so I can try to fix them up, at least for my own peace of mind. I just can't, so my brain just says "Cry. Wallow in self-pity. Eat ice cream. Repeat."

Do-over

Maybe I should just accept the fact that I am losing it. Or I am near losing it. Who cares? The next time I feel like crying, maybe I would just watch Armageddon again. And again. And again. Or The Notebook. Or The Last Song. Or all of them. Then I could just blame it all on the movie. Or movies. Or whatever.

You said, remember that life is

Not meant to be wasted

We can always be chasing the sun

So fill up your lungs and just run

But always be chasing the sun!

And all we can do is try. 

-Sara Bareilles, Chasing the Sun

5.34 doses of sadness.

I woke up this morning in a very weird state.

I have been reading some pretty depressing books that made me ugly-cry recently, but this morning was surely different. I don’t know, maybe I have dreamt of something depressing and then forgot all about it as soon as I opened my eyes, but there really was something that had me crying at 5:34 am.

It’s like something inside me had just woke me up from a dreamless sleep to say “Hey, life is sad. You are sad. Go cry.” So I did. Mind you, it wasn't a teary eyed state of crying - it was somewhere near to a “cry yourself to sleep” type of sobbing but more painful in the chest because I tried really hard to suppress my sobs, because my sister is sleeping right beside me.

I checked my phone and it says 5:34, and that in itself was weird. Ever since this school year started, I don’t wake up at 5:34 am. Give or take the fact that I stay up until 3 am studying, thus making the 4 am to 6 am zone a deep-in-slumber you-can’t-do-anything-to-wake-me-up-zone.

I did get sleep eventually, I’m not really sure at what time. At past 7 am, my mom goes about yelling for everyone (or is it just dad?) to wake up. I did, too. When I went downstairs, I felt okay. I laid down again but did not sleep as what I always do until I get the urge to have some coffee. I just laid there, one arm my face. Minutes later, I realized that I was tearing up yet again. I asked myself what could have been making me cry, but I cannot extract the answers. Not knowing just made it even more sad. I do not know what was wrong with me.

I laid there hiding my puffy face and pretending to sleep when my mom gets out from bath. I am praying that she didn't see, because that would just make her think that I am trying to act it out. That would add up to the sadness.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think I’m on the verge of losing it.