No Returns

 

Hey, do you still have my red shirt? Can I have it back?

I stared at my phone, openmouthed. Excuse me? You want what back now?

I walked around the house, trying to think of what to reply. I opened the pantry and saw a can of vienna sausage, tuna, and sardines.

Nope. I opened the refrigerator and got a jar of peanut butter.

Can I have it back? I mimicked the text in a high-pitched voice while lathering the peanut butter on to the bread, with some of the oil dripping on to the table.

I took the sandwiches and set up camp in front of the AC. I took a huge bite off one sandwich and open the message once again.

Hey, do you still have my red shirt? Can I have it back?

After finishing a third sandwich and downing a glass of orange juice, I picked up my phone and typed:

What red shirt?

~*~

Read More »

Advertisements

Power of Attraction and All That Self-Help Positive Outlook Bullshit

I pressed the down button multiple times, willing the elevator to go faster. My heart was racing. I checked my reflection from the elevator doors to make sure I look nice.

You never know.

Some girl casually mentioned the fact that they saw you buying from the convenience store downstairs to which I reacted in the most fake way possible: Hahahaha sino yun?

As if I don’t already know that she and that snoopy girl from the 11th floor hated me and probably did their research for their daily office chismis rounds. Fuck. You.

True or not, it’s the reason why my heart is racing. What exactly am I hoping for here?

Do you ever want or dread something so bad that you feel like you might get sick? Like physically sick, because of the unhealthy amount of time you keep on thinking about it? In your head, the more time and energy you spend thinking about it, the more chances it will actually happen in real life. Power of attraction and all that self-help positive outlook bullshit.

*ding*

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. I let out a long sigh as if it would also release all the anxiety I felt. I leaned forward and rested my head above the elevator buttons, all the while willing my heart to return to its normal pace.

it’s just a sick joke. a stab at your personal life. it’s not like it’s actually real, that he’s…

*ding*

I straightened up as the doors slid open.

And there you were.

Acquainted.

“Get the lighter. It’s inside my bag.”

She did an exaggerated sigh. She always had a flair with theatrics. “No.”

“Please?”

“I’m tired! I can’t walk!”

He laughed and propped his face on his hands. His lips was in a wide smile.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“Ugh!” She got up and walked to the table. I rummaged through his bag’s for the lighter. “Here.”

“Yay! I win!”

She straddled him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. With a small smile, she said: “I’m always losing when it comes to you.”

He held my stare as he took a long drag from his cigarette.