In my bedroom
It's Fleet Week in New York City
Monday
I kicked the week off by going to the beach for one last dose of the summer sun. I had a ball running around Camp Holiday
Tuesday
I had to say goodbye to one of the most beautiful women in the office. Barbie may have been an irate agent but she was a good friend. Worse part is that I had to sign her “sentence” and it sucked big time. It felt so strange reading a friend’s name on a termination notice, with the ever-taray (but adorable) Katrina breathing on my neck.
I got drunk that night, but I had enough brain cells left to make myself throw all the alcohol up. I was with Barbie and the rest of her gang. It was a fun night—sang our hearts out, danced a bit, did some truth or dare (DARE!). It was one of those gimiks I know I was missing out. I got home at 10PM. Two hours later, I was already dressing for work.
Wednesday
I knew something was terribly wrong. I don’t know what it is until now but I just knew there was something amiss. Of course I was feeling all shitty but I can always blame it on the fact that I only had two hours sleep. K sent me a message saying that he just arrived in NYC and for the first time, I just typed a nonchalant reply saying “I’ve never been better”. I could not shake off the feeling that there’s an axe hanging over my head. I almost wished it would just chop my head off and get it over with.
Thursday
I succumbed to my depression. I called one of my college friends about one item she was selling and told her I was picking it up after work. As I’ve been saying over and over, next to a gab session with the girls, shopping is my best therapy. I wandered around the mall alone, picked up a pair of shoes, some other stuff I needed for pampering myself, and got a pedicure. I even thought of getting my belly pierced.
I started to ask Erick where he was (I needed someone unbiased to listed to my ranting) but decided against it on the last minute. I was down with the flu and I was sneezing every five minutes. And besides, Erick was not the person I wanted to be with that day. I needed to be with K. But he’s away, having a darn good time in New York City
Friday
It was Sir Gary’s birthday. It was also Santacruzan and Power Talk day in the office. Almost everyone was in a festive mood. Except me. Of course I had to fake it, so I plastered on that big smile and laughed when everyone else did. I received a cold Facebook message from K saying he’s having the time of his life partying, meeting Paris Hilton and visiting family. I told him I was sick and might end up in a hospital by the end of the week.
I did not attend ACE’s bash that night. Everyone fun was there, including Carlo, my ex who recently became a chat buddy. We’re not exactly friendly, but we’re in a healthier place now. I still want to stab him with a plastic spoon most of the time but I get by just fine thinking I won’t have to endure his stupid humor everyday.
Saturday
Still no reply from K, which meant that he couldn’t care less if I died. I realized I had been so fucking stupid to check my email every hour only to find an empty inbox. My coffee date with my high school girls got cancelled because Gianelli had to be somewhere. So I ended up facing my computer all afternoon, contemplating on why Blair Waldorf is such a brat and taking Liv’s side in Bride Wars.
To top it off, I just found out that a friend who was supposed fly somewhere to pursue a possible romance was still in Davao
It’s been a shitty week, alright. While K is having a roaring time celebrating Fleet Week and possibly meeting better women, I’m here alone, blogging about it. But there’s still today. And I’m hoping for a little redemption. God knows how little it will take to paint a smile on my face again.
No comments:
Post a Comment