I’m not in my best spirit but hell, I’m still writing. No matter how crappy this might seem, or how ungrammatical the sentences of the outcome would turn out, it’s fine. At least I have the power to edit it later, tomorrow, not so. I was told to write at least one entry a day to get used to it: writer’s block and all.

Last night was one of those nights I’d sleep with the radio on. I’m not talking about the big radio-cum-CD-player, but my cellphone which has this common radio application. I tuned in to some mellow station to get me to the sleepiest mood. In less than five minutes, I slept. I woke up this morning to Duffy’s “Mercy”, which became the least favorite Duffy song (at least for me). I went downstairs to pee, a sign which translates I could never go back to sleep again. I have this illness where I don’t get to sleep anymore the moment I wake up. It’s sad to not take sleeping pills when you want to sleep, when the weather’s fine.

I feel sucky this morning. As I said, I’m not in my best spirits. All I really need is a vacation… as in “vacation vacation”. I’ve been boxed at home in a while and now I feel jaded. The thing about me is when I go out, I have the tendency to overspend on books, but these days I also spend on clothes. The ultimo problemo is I don’t have enough money and I’m trying to “save my savings.” (Ok, that’s a sucky sentence.) Going back, I’m not really in my best spirit. Perhaps because I lack sleep, or because I just want to bitch out… something I have not done in a while, needless to say.

I slept 30 minutes after twelve last night. I was talking to some “friend”, and we were hitting it on, until finally some tiny voice in my brain wanted to finally sleep. I plugged the earphones on, turned the radio application on, and turned it on loudspeaker. I slept.

Earlier that evening, while I was watching my brother Igi play a Mafia Wars-like game on Facebook, we were listening to “Wish You Were Here”. The lyrics have a different meaning but it made me ask myself a stupid Boy Abunda question, “Which friend would I want to say the postcard-worthy phrase, Wish you were here?” I looked at my cup of green tea, the remainder of it swishing back and forth screaming DRINK ME, when I thought the answer would have to be a future boyfriend.

There he was, faceless. And nameless.

I’m puzzled about the future, if ever I would have a boyfriend. The last time I had one was when I was a high school junior: mature, naive, and somewhat virginal. I guess at that time I was bratty and spoiled (once I made my boyfriend buy me a Patrick Star cellphone accessory, those things which used to matter in 2005 but are now junk in 09), until his time was divided into his extracurriculars when I finally begun to be a self-centered crybaby. We often fought about this; him not having time for me, when in fact, he only needed a him time (or me time) to breathe and to let things come in naturally. That same year unfortunately we broke up because we had to, but… okay; I really don’t like to talk about this.

Don’t get me wrong, I have completely moved on. The separation contributed so much for my growth. I just can’t imagine myself having a boyfriend in the future. By then I wouldn’t get to watch my favorite shows when I want it, I wouldn’t get to read my current books when I want it, I wouldn’t get to spend time with my friends when I want it. I am thankful God gave me the light. I just can’t see myself spending too much time with my cellphone, and spending too much on phone credits. I’m a completely different person now. Looking back at my taken self, I am arguably annoyed. There are times I wish my old selves weren’t around.

The scenery was perfect. Late night and it was silent, only Luigi’s cellphone blaring an Incubus song. Timidly I say “Wish you were here”. Absurd as it may seem, I wish he were here.