Why do we even bother saying it'll soon be over?

Fridays aren't good because traffic on the way home gets really, really bad. The construction along the SLEX is prolonging my agony for an hour on average. The last weekend was a payday weekend - for most, since I only get my payday weekend at the end of this week - so traffic was worse. Oh, and did I say I was feeling extra, uhh, loopy over the past week? Oh, right, I think that was very obvious. Good.

As always, I was texting Kat. It was a bad week, and I'm more than thankful she managed to hang on even if I was a little annoyed at one of her text messages at one point.

With a bad mood comes a lot of thoughts, and I sure had one of those thoughts, while lying on the bed, trying to sleep. (Actually I didn't have to try falling asleep. It's a matter of time.) Again, I was thinking of the past, and of the things that I did wrong - or, in this case, the things that made the last time different from this time. "'Di 'to matatapos kasi wala akong pamalit," I suddenly told her. "May escape route dati. Kapag masakit, maghanap. Now? Napakasakit at walang magawa."

I was, of course, thinking of college, and how things always felt like a cycle, which proved less painful as time passed. Right now, it's harder to get on another bandwagon, and I do feel surrounded.

"Parehas tayo!" she exclaimed. "Ako kasi mas optimistic na makakalabas ako sa sitwasyong ito, eh."

"The difference is reciprocity," I replied. And I refused to speak further. But I fell asleep by then.

I may have spent the weekend either in front of the PC, or catching up on lost sleep, but I was still in a very bad mood. It didn't help that it was raining, because it looked so dreary outside. Then again, I'm not the person who can find a compromise on anything - I hate sunny weather, too.

Why do we even bother saying it'll soon be over? I know, I've said it a million times before, that from this day forward, I will move on and look at other things and distract myself. But I'm going to be here for a year already, and I feel more hopeless with each passing day. And surrounded, too, by folks who don't undersand and folks who'd rather not understand. And you still want something, which explains the lack of escape routes that'll, uhh, satisfy that craving, for lack of a better term.

Instead, you get reminded of all those reasons why you can't satisfy those things, which is why I hate the rainy season. I'm making a new association, and it has something to do with that Prefab Sprout song - you know, the one that goes something like, Nancy, let your hair down for me. That, and the return of pink sweaters.

I need an escape route. It'll go full circle, and then it'll go full circle again.

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