The Ages

Note: This post is messy beyond belief. Kind of like word vomit, only uncooler.

The day my mother got robbed was the day my best friend turned nineteen. I wished I could have been there to celebrate it with her. After having had her by my side for a little close to fourteen years now, it sucks like a vampire to not have her here anymore. Thankfully, the advent of the World Wide Web have made things slightly easier to deal with. A very blessed birthday to her. I am not one for any displays of mushiness, but I miss her everyday. OK. The mushiness ends here.

Should haves have been driving me up the wall. Every morning I get up to the lingering thought of a new plan hatched in my head while I was asleep; the plan to prevent the theft from ever happening in the first place. Listen to my instincts, hit the button to open the auto-gate while he was climbing it, run in front of my mother, kick him in the area where it hurts most, distract him...the list is endless. But alas, it has happened. I did nothing, and there is nothing to do about it now, except listen to what God is trying to teach my mother and me. And pray for my mother's healing, and for Mr. Anger and Mr. Regret to stop bugging me.

College has been a real pain what with the numerous amount of academic obligations. All the tests, assignments, projects and homework have morphed into one entity which is slowly chipping away my sanity. Although I know exactly what is keeping me sane. And among the succinct list would be books. Not the academic kind, but the fictitious kind. I have never read this much in a semester before. Usually, if I'm fortunate enough and blessed with a little bit more time, I get to painfully finish one storybook throughout the whole semester. So far, I have read a little over five -not that much, but still- and it is only mid-sem. Although I fear that I may not have enough time to read in the coming weeks, I just don't care. Much. Life is too short, and I think it's time I finally practise what I believe: Do something that you love everyday. And that would be reading, for me.

Ever since the robbery, two things have happened: a) My parents are harnessing me on an even tighter leash, and b) The still quietness each time I'm alone at home isn't boding with me so well anymore. I used to love it. Oy. I guess I can't blame my parents on the former, though it is expediting my unwanted approach to the Age of Rebellion. Double oy.

Tomorrow, I will be attending a new youth church I've been meaning to try out for sometime now but just never had the guts to do so. I hope this decision will turn out alright, because I am in dire need of treading on new spiritual ground and am not doing too good just floating above any spiritual ground at the moment.

I also hope I sound alright...because I don't think I do. But maybe that's just me. I am alright though. Just fighting against the inexplicable force that is hurrying me to grow up. Or maybe I already have. Nah, doubtful...or is it really? Yeah, I'm alright. Just chilling in the Age of Confusion. I blame the looming mid-terms and assignments. The screws in my head are annoyingly loose now.

P/S: When I start speaking in metaphors, it is a sign that I should retreat to get a good read for reasons unknown. Excuse me while I do that now.

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