learning to exhale

The house is quiet and I’m on my second and last beer for the night. I no longer binge on alcohol. Being drunk at night makes it harder to wake up for my morning jog. And my daily workouts and constant exposure to the sun have already contributed to the sad state of my skin. I don’t need alcohol to make my skin drier than it already is. And the last thing that I need right now is to look my age. Yes, getting old apparently makes one vainer. 

I’m drinking now because it’s Friday and I’ve been meaning to drink since early this evening. I was supposed to go to a book launch but had to stay at the office until 11pm. On my way back to QC I kept wondering if I should go out alone. I’ve been meaning to do that for the longest time but eventually I decided to just go home (Because, as I had concluded during the ride, it’s the adult thing to do). Yes, I wanted to sit on a bar stool and enjoy some rock music but do I also expect to get picked up? Am I prepared to spend my Saturday morning drunk and smoking like a chimney? Am I doing this because I feel insecure and insignificant? Hell yeah! So I went home.

I feel as if my heart had gone through a shredder (again). Monday came with a good news (HIV test came out negative) but Tuesday and Wednesday were spent pining for tall cute buddy who, like I suspected, is still dating other guys (and hot, cute guys at that!). I started sinking when I learned of this and I moped around the office until buddy number two (who I was in loved with just a couple of months ago) sent a message and wanted to hook up. Then Thursday came and tall, cute buddy apologized for ignoring my messages and I’m hooked again. Today, we spent most of the afternoon exchanging messages. I was pretty full of myself till I added him on my Facebook list and saw how hunky the men he has been dating. And that, well, made me want to drink alone. Lately, my self-esteem has sunk a record low.

I’m drinking now but hopefully I’m drinking because I want to drink and not because I want to assuage this gnawing pain. I mean, pining for guys is so like 10 years ago. People around me are making movies, doing their dream projects, and have been generally successful in their respective careers while I, well, I’m still begging for love, any kind of love. So this week I started acquainting myself with Freud and began learning to process my emotions. I realized that I have such a short fuse. My mind has no ability to put things into context when I’m hurting. My first instinct is find an easy balm to take away the pain. I never learned to cope. So now I’m trying this new method of processing my feelings first. Before doing anything, I ask myself why do I feel this way? Are my thoughts legit and real and not based on some psychotic reaction because I do tend to be unhinged from reality most of the time. Romantic love is not the problem of course. It’s more of how I view the world and how I see myself in it. I have such a weak ego that my life has been ruled mostly by my id. And, as Carrie once said quoting Freud, isn’t delayed gratification a sign of maturity? My psyche has a lot of catching up to do apparently and it’s all happening this year, right here, right now, Live na Live. And so here’s what I’ve learned so far: I’ve got 101 problems and love should not be one of them. To start with, I think I have to focus on my sanity because it’s going faster than an Andy Warhol painting at a Sotheby’s auction.

1.40am Friday, sometime in the last few months 


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