Home sweet home

I came home two days ago. The house is still the same old house, except the large TV set was brought to my room and a small one now sits in the living room. The ceiling is still dirty, the floors worn and grey. I wish I lived some place else.

I’ve been here for two days now and it feels like floating in a dream, you know, when you’re up flying, watching the world below. I don’t have the strength to do anything. There’s no feeling of wanting to cook, something I’ve missed since I ran out of stove gas in my place two months ago. I don’t want to draw. Or read. I just want to lay down. I tried waking up earlier than 8, but only after today was I successful. I’ve been meaning to jog but I’ll wait until I wake up at 5. Tomorrow I hope to wake up at 5.

I’m trying to soak up the fresh air here. In the city, I never tried inhaling deeply unless I’m inside my room. I feel sorry for the kids who grew up with black smog as atmosphere. Maybe I’m oxygen-deprived. My head has this quiet ache for the last two days. It isn’t throbbing or stabbing, it’s just there. I need oxygen and a better place to live. I like Laguna, but our house, this one where we grew up in, has accumulated a lot of bad vibes. I don’t know what to do.

---