It’s been two weeks since I’ve been back, since then I’ve had two day offs.
There’s definitely irony in twos, some sort of duality, on the one hand, I’m dead tired, on the other hand, I’d rather not have any day off.
Yeah, because then, the sedative effect of work would leave me and I would wake up with 24 hours ‘open’. Then the conversation went something like, “What to do, where to go?” from loved ones and there’s me on the receiving end drawing a blank because I’m at a total lost in this city. There’s nothing I’d want to do, other than work. I’d rather be working. Because all other option seem to mean that reality would sink in and I’d realize where I am, not only that, I’d be ‘open’ to idleness and people thinking that my ‘time’ is now ‘open’ for them to direct.
Today for example, I got to ‘hangout’ with my dad all day, which is never easy, or a great idea. We’re too different, and without my mom tagging along there’s always the risk of us blowing up at one another and yelling. And today… I realized, when I move away, eventually, I probably won’t ever visit for longer than a week or two. It’s utterly pointless. It’s impossible for him to see and feel my point of view and I won’t ever understand his values…
Two weeks back and I feel like I’m wasting my damn time.
Two weeks back I’ve been working nonstop just to get out of the house…
Two weeks back I’m snapping at the smallest provocations, serving everyone with an extra generous helping of sarcasm.
Two weeks back I’ve been checking Googleflight nonstop.
Two weeks back, I decided, I’m in need of a new game plan.
Two weeks back, I went plane watching on my day off and might’ve shed a tear or two…