It's only been three days [now] since I got back from my vacation with my family in Boracay but it didn't feel like I really went away for a time. With the load of work that I have right now, I could use some more vacation if given a chance. While I'm here doing all the dirty work to make this magazine a reality, my mind's off somewhere, probably catching some ZZzzsss while basking in the glory of the sun and sipping its favorite choco-banana-peanut shake from Jonas' in Station 1.
It's just so sad.
The little time I had spent with my family during that five-day (in total) vacation was like medication in a way. It, temporarily rid of the incessant head throbbing everytime I think about AQ (the magazine); it made me high I thought I could die =)
I didn't wanna go back until I wake up and prove to myself that this is all just a dream. That I've been sleeping for the past ten months and I was just too tired to break this slumber. The last thing I could remember was that I was a happy-go-lucky business reporter who didn't care about anything or anybody just as long as I could submit my story; then I'm done. I had my own sweet time and I indulge on my craziest whims without worrying at all on anything. Haaay... how did I ever come to this?
You know what the ironic part is? I hate complaining. I hate hearing people complain. I hate being the subject of complaints and I hate myself for complaining about where I am right now. I must stop. Now. Else, I will be more miserable than ever.
How many breaks will I need before I can truly say that I am happy about what I am doing? Ten more Boracay visits? A week in Purto Galera? A month in Baguio where I lived half of my adult life? I guess it's hard to tell. Thanks to these people around me, I still have this little piece of sanity left -- although just hanging by a goddamn thread.
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