After the tumultuous nights of hard sweats from the abyss of the hallucinating sleep, I found myself puffing my second stick of the new Winston lights I got from my pocket (which my boyfriend’s maid had a mercy of washing), vaguely, I asked myself what’s wrong with the entire world? Ah, I think I’ve been suffering from the fibromyglia syndrome. The worrier in me is striking at its best again maybe I’ve been surrounding myself with too much paranoia that even my “biik” of a boyfriend can’t help but to call me “prangengots”… I often stopped and asked myself …if I really am paranoid. My brain sometimes couldn’t function normally, I guess from too much thinking and not just thinking but worrying… I worry about everything, from the time I would wake up in the morning I’d start worrying about simple things… like getting up and literally dragging myself from the bed… I worry about not finding my pair of slippers upon waking up, worry about what clothes to wear that I always, like everyday end up changing 3 clothes before really coming up with a thing to wear for that particular day… I worry about the cigarette butts I may have left afire inside the trash bin, (you see, I have this bad habit of throwing my cigarette butts inside the trash bin, though the ever so clean ash tray stares at me on top of the bed side table)… I worry about not going to the john and do my morning rituals, I worry about the shampoo I use to wash my hair… I worry about having a bad hair day later on, I worry about the traffic, my boyfriend’s bike 4 life trip, his health, my best friend’s uncanny situation, my sister’s pregnancy, my mom’s “topak” for the day, my LIFE!… my life’s a drag… a bore…and I know I should put a halt on my impasse… drinking coffee does not help a bit… it only gives me the much anticipated palpitation that would again cause me to surrender in the most squalid case of worrying… worry if I’d still wake up the next morning or if my insurance agent would be kind enough to arrange in her most reliable way the money my family would be getting once I bid this cruel world adieu; worry that I’d left my honeypot alone and endure the pain of losing a love one…well, that one causes me to worry again right now… if he’d really be crying over my loss or would he be rejoicing to the hilt knowing his paranoid of a girlfriend would finally gives his peace. Ahhh! I hate to worry… but it’s eating my system… like a spreading disease… like a parasite… and I am slowly losing my immunity from all these… my boyfriend calls himself a borderline psychotic… well, I am but a case of a girl not only interrupted but slowly losing her capacity to adapt in to the mess of the real world… in to the woods… I am a lost soul…searching for the final light… drifting to the pit of nothingness evoking my sanity to keep still… lest, I’ll be damned forever…SO HELP ME NOT TO WORRY! (then, again… I am worrying!)


bmartinez
06.16.2k