Oh great

It gets worse.

Job description

It's been a long time since I vomited, and I can't say I missed the feeling. I want the feeling to go away right now.

My throat burns, my stomach feels bloated and painful, I can't stop coughing. I'm also drowsy like I'm sleep deprived. And to think I was gonna sleep this pain off before I puked.

I'm guessing it was something I ate. Something not so fresh. Seafood. "Cooked" oyster. Or maybe I just overate. Actually I'm gonna distract myself from thoughts of food right now. I don't wanna start praying to the porcelain god again.

This is the worst feeling ever.

Gets better

So having been bedridden for so long, it wasn't a surprise to find the house in its current state. I never noticed the place was so dusty until I started coughing the past few days. And I haven't really stopped. Every deep breath triggers the fits, but my lethargy triggers my yawns, and if I don't get my deep breaths, the fatigue gets worse. If only I can sleep it off, but the tiredness is mental rather than physical.

The cut is still painful, although it's not as dark anymore. I'm not sure if that's a good sign. Scabs are usually deep brown, right? But skin is still reattaching I think. It reopens frequently though, so it's a long process. Now not only does my stomach hurt from the cut, my lungs hurt from the wheezing. Been drinking lots of water; it's been tasting funny though. I changed the filters already, but the odd taste is still there. Can't seem to get rid of it. There's a tinge of sourness to the water, so I drink only when I need to, which is pretty often unfortunately. Not that water's unhealthy or anything. Well, usually it's not anyway.

Well, more on life later.

Disconnect

It appears my thoughts, my ideas, my musings and such have been unsettling for some people. I've had confrontations with people I know about things that I say or do. Particularly, they have problems with these entries.

Some have noted a disconnect, or even a downright contradiction between my entries and what I say in person. Have I been lying? Am I hiding behind a mask?

No. At least I don't think so. A mask is meant to obscure truth, whether the concealment is evident or not. It exists to conceal a face, or metaphorically, to hide an essence that identifies an individual.

To say that I hide behind a mask would imply that I am not appearing as my true self before others. There's a problem with this idea. As I said already, a mask exists to obscure truth. A mask's existence is affirmed by the existence of a private identity. The relationship between the two is not mutual, for a private identity need not be masked to be private. A hermit who isolates himself from society can have a private identity if no one knows about it, but he need not create a false persona to hide his true self. But a mask can only exist if the object it is meant to hide exists as well. If there's nothing to hide, there's no mask.

I'm not hidden behind a shell; I am a shell. There's a hollowness within me that grows continuously. Life is so daily, and it's worse by the day. It's the same thing everyday. Wake up feeling like I haven't slept, feeling like my wound has worsened rather than healed. The weather doesn't help my mood much. I remember the days when I would stay up late in the night to admire the quietness of the winter night, a cool blanket of white feathers hiding the cracked streets and rooftops, or the bright mornings when it seemed like the entire surface of the world shined. Not anymore. It's a pain to clear the snow every other day. It's a pain to trek through the blistering cold in the mornings when the paths are still blocked, just to get to work on time with thin black dress pants that the biting cold air easily penetrates. I open the fridge every morning and there's nothing in it. The bills are an eyesore on the kitchen counter, and the plants are turning deep brown. I won't get rid of them though. They might grow again come spring. They are starting to smell sour, however. It's very unpleasant. But enough of this. I'm going to bed.

In and out

The past couple of days have been a blur. I've been extremely lethargic, drifting in and out all the time. I'm not sure what the cause is, or rather, which of the causes has the biggest impact on me.

There's not much to do now that school is out. I tried occupying my time with writing, or drawing, or whatever creative task I can think of, but no ideas come to mind.

No, that's not true.

More like I've been having problems articulating myself in whichever medium I was using to create. If I wanted to draw, the picture would turn out awful. If I wanted to write, word would fail to capture the essence of my thought. If I wanted to cook, well, let's just say the final product would be crap.

I haven't been to work for the past few days either. I've been taking it easy at home, resting quite a bit. The wound on my stomach hasn't healed much. The skin appears to be reattaching, but it breaks easily and the pain is intense. I've tried putting salt on it because I remember someone telling me that salt can kill bacteria. Not a fun process, as one can imagine. I also tried applying anti-bacterial cream on the cut even though the label explicitly instructs the users not to put the cream on an open wound. Well screw that, I'm hurting badly.

It's good to be free from work and all, but the bills are piling up. I've received calls from different companies asking me to pay up. Hold your horses, people. A few late bills won't bankrupt you. Family will be back soon to handle it, I think. If not, just give me a few more days when I can actually walk up and down the stairs without doubling in pain at the end of each flight.

A little help now would be nice.

Truth

Still no sign of them. I want to give up hoping. I'm tired of the stress and anxiety that have built up within me.

I told friends that they're back, but I lied. I don't want them to worry, or to pity me. I can do this on my own. At least I've been trying to. There's a lot to take care of, but I'll manage, I'm sure. Just gotta learn one step at a time, is all.

I still eat one or two meals a day, which I haven't denied. I can be pretty convincing with my storytelling. I tell them I got used to eating little, that I only really needed one meal a day now, and people would buy it. If I don't feel like going to places, I tell them my family has to take me out, or the car is unavailable, and they won't question me about it. If I have to bus far to places, I'll do it. They think I get dropped off, and that's fine, too. They don't need to know what's going on. They won't care anyway, so I might as well suck it up.

But I can't keep it bottled up. So here's the truth. I know no one reads this, so the truth will remain a secret.

As much as I want support, I won't ask. I'll be able.

Need rest

Several days already, and still no word. What the heck is going on.

I think it’s getting to me. Getting even more careless at work these days. I was holding a cardboard box to my stomach to secure it. My left hand grasped the opposite end of the box, at the edge where the tape running down the middle folded to the connecting side. I had a cutter in my right hand and I was gonna slice the tape from the bottom up, cutting towards my left hand. That’s when I got careless.

I missed my mark and poked myself with the blade in my abdomen. But it wasn’t a wide cut or anything. Not even a centimetre in length. But it felt deep, and it showed on my uniform. I thought I just skinned myself at first because I recoiled so fast from the pain, and figured it couldn’t have gone deep. There wasn’t any blood either, although my shirt now had a small slit. I worked through that little accident for another minute or so, cringing every time I stretched upwards to grab more boxes or to lift things up. It wasn’t long before I noticed bloody handprints on the boxes and took my break soon after. Had to wait for someone to cover for me, too, and that was the longest wait ever.

Got myself a band-aid that proved useless, and I think I passed out in the lunchroom and was late swiping out to end my lunch break. And since I was out for my lunch break, it meant I didn’t eat today for 9 hours straight. I still haven’t eaten. I don’t want to eat though. The pain in my stomach has drained all my appetite from me.

Okay, enough writing. I need to rest.

Maybe tomorrow they'll be here.

Prolonged solitude

It’s been just over a week now. They’re still not here. There’s no one I can call to ask where they are right now. I don’t know the airline they used, nor do I know anyone in Asia that would know where they might be. A little annoyed that they haven’t told me why they’re delayed, but I’m also a little concerned. But they’re together at least, unlike me. They’ll be okay.

Endured another week of tiring labour and studies. House is still unkempt, but once my only midterm is done, I’ll get cracking probably. And do grocery runs as well. I’ve barely eaten the past couple of days. I have to wake up so early on work days I just sacrifice a meal for an extra 30 minutes of sleep. I can’t say it’s a bad choice. And I go on my lunch breaks at around 3:30-4, which means they unstick my hunger pangs, but they also ruin my appetites for dinner. I’m too tired to eat dinner in the next couple of hours after, so one meal is sufficient for me to survive the day.

Well, another battle tomorrow. Hope they come back soonish.