Have you ever experienced the feeling like the world is passing you by yet you're stuck in the same place? I call it being in the "in between" period. I am undergoing this phase again. I am lost in the solitary moments of nothingness. I am a slave of my lazy mood swings and restless feet.
The busy streets of Singapore comforted my dark and empty soul this afternoon. After a sweaty interview with a Japanese girl in a bank at 11 AM, I gave myself some time to breathe by eating an early lunch and smoking 2 sticks outside Harbourfront to prepare myself for the inevitable meeting with the 2 persons who hired me in my first job here who also took them away.
I gathered my nerves and headed to the place that had been familiar to me from the last 2 months. My manager was cold as ice. She tried to show compassion by telling me she advised the headhunter to look for another job for me and I lost all the hurtful words in my head. I remembered uttering thanks to her and then left in just a few seconds.
I have never felt like a burglar who got caught stealing cheese. What have I ever done to deserve this treatment? She tried showing me she still cared yet I did not feel a thing.My open-mindedness kicked in and I was thinking it's either she's a hypocrite or I became as cold as an iceberg that would take years to thaw.
After this intense scene, I went to the headhunter's office and surrendered my card. It was like giving a part of my soul to a stranger. I displayed nonchalance as I gave up my memories in the card. I kept telling myself, "You already had both sides of the card scanned and the copy is in your hard disk. There's no use crying over a stupid card that has your name and job description on it."
This chant worked while I was in the building. It was another matter when I left the area. I found myself walking in Orchard Road although I do not enjoy being alone at a time like this. I was lost in the sea of people who are walking by with a purpose. I was there but my head is in another universe.
There's this inner feeling of loss that I can't seem to get rid off. It's definitely not the same as losing a loved one but it has half the impact. I know they are words written on a card but it had a sentimental value to me.
When I was a kid, I had a difficult time throwing old test papers away because I knew I worked hard on them. I got over the anxiety after seeing the unreadable handwriting because the paper turned almost yellow, similar to a historical document.
Anyway, my mind kept butting in, telling me the idea of walking without any direction is insane while my heart kept saying that it's the best thing to do at the moment. I was fighting with myself in the MRT. This is probably one of the craziest things I've ever done. It's a good thing the conversation in my head was not heard of by anyone or else I would have been arrested by the police here thinking I escaped from the mental institution nearby.
I drowned myself in the only thing that would comfort me in the midst of all these--books. As usual, I got lost but it's very minimal compared to the previous experiences. My heart was singing Allelujah when I smelled the aroma of new books wafting in the air. It's like the spiritual feeling in a church except this one's for my psychological satisfaction. It was like coming home and smelling my Mom's home-cooked meals.
I've browsed thru various books that my hands could grab on. I was planning to buy this bookmark to commemorate the day of my demise. I carried the thing for a few minutes and thought it's weird to buy a bookmark worth almost $7 without any book. I searched for a book in the bargain but I can't seem to find one that I like. Eventually I got tired of it and decided to leave the store without any damage to my Nets.
It took all my willpower to get out of the store without any item on hand. This must be what they call "maturity". It's full of crap. I decided to go home since it's almost 5 PM. Before going home, I seemed to feel this heaviness in my head.
I am tired of my long hair. My mind was buzzing with ideas on the type of haircut to have. All of a sudden, I am excited to do something with my hair. Before this event happened, I had to smoke again. Stressful day.
I finally got the courage to walk again and found--a barber shop. Whoa. Hold on. I cannot possibly get a haircut there. No way.
I walked back and forth in the surrounding area and there's no salon to cut my rope-like hair. It seemed to be a huge burden at the time because it's getting too hot. I cannot breathe with my long hair! It needs to be shortened-badly. I asked one sales person from Watson's--of all places--if she knows any salon in the area. She can't help but smile and said no. I looked like an idiot and was given a no. Ding, ding, ding! Time's up. Enough of the crazy ideas.
With sagging shoulders, I went home and settled on the couch. I didn't know Roomie was still there. I was staring at nothing with the fan blowing at my face because I am overheating from too much walking; I'm definitely not a jogger anymore. I immediately grabbed my cell to avoid further interrogations of the inner turmoil in my fat head.
He had this bed-rumpled hair and unfocused eyes that spelled "I just woke up". I muttered something like "I didn't know you're there."
To make the long story short, I ended up giving him a summary of the interview and then shared a bit about the cold manager. He replied with, "She's like that all the time, right?" I just agreed to end the conversation.
The huge silence was deafening. It would've been better if I talked to myself. I would have gotten more answers than I was expecting from him. He is about to go to work and I understand that as an excuse.
If he really didn't have time, he should have continued his daily routine and ignored me completely. It would have been better that way instead of leaving me with an impression of being judged which was the last thing on my list of most hated emotions after all the emotional roller coaster I've been through.
I should have listened to my instinct and did not tell him about my awesome day.
My sister, the best listener of all, gave me lectures about doing this and that. Roomie and my sister must have been siblings in their past life because the only difference they have when it comes to being judgmental is that my sister puts them into words and he keeps his mouth shut.
I don't like puzzles if it's not in apps or real-life games. Too much stress is giving me ulcers and I'm having a hard time sleeping. I want to curse and break plates but it wouldn't do anything. More than anything, my pride was hurt. Being fired was one thing but being judged by my own sister and roomie, it's too much to handle.
If they're robbers, I just want to surrender. I am tired of playing. Please rob me as fast as you can so we can get it over and done with.
Is it too much to listen to someone? Or maybe it's just me. I always relied on people when the going gets tough. I haven't been alone when a storm hits the center of TEQUILA. She's always been with a lemon who will listen to her rants and raves.
Maybe this is another lesson for me. I should learn to survive on my own because I've always depended on others for support. I should learn to cope up without broadcasting my never-ending complaints and traumatic events.
Sometimes a girl who got her knees bruised, needs to rest in between the surprise of getting wounded and the realization that it would leave a scar to put her life back together.