sorry

Once again, I find myself clacking away. I was hoping for some clarity but I guess it’s not so easy and we don’t always get what we hope for. To be honest with you, I’m making this up as I go along. I usually collect nice thoughts then I ball it up and regurgitate a blog entry but not today. Today, I can honestly say I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about so if you came here expecting something good to read then I guess today isn’t your day.

I was trying to get some sleep but I had this song in my head and I couldn't remember what it was. A quick Google search later, I ID'd the song.

I first heard Maria Mena's Sorry a couple of years ago. It's a sad song and I guess the rain tonight isn't helping much. She sings and I say baby, yes I feel stupid to call you but I'm lonely. And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me. It's a sad song. A sad sad song.

I don't know why I'm even getting affected. It's not like there's anything in my life to be sad about. I eat well (a little too well). I'm employed. I've got all my limbs. I certainly laugh enough. But lying in bed with the covers pulled up over my head, I couldn't help but feel unwell. No, unwell's not a good word. Unsettled. Like an account that's pending. I feel so unsettled.

Something's wrong. Perhaps I'm beginning to forget myself. I noticed that lately, I've become numb to a lot of things. Slowly and like that part on your foot that gets calloused from wearing certain types of shoes, my entire being has been wrapped in excess skin. I'm numb and I've been too dumb for too long to even notice it.

I just poured my heart out. There's bits of it on the floor. But I take what's left of it and rinse it under cold water and call him up for more, she sings and I wondered- when was the last time I wrote anything that had this much emotion? When was the last time I wrote anything period? I've got pages and pages on my little brown notebook of fragments and sentences and now that I've taken the time to read it, I realized none of it makes sense to me. Nada. Zilch.

I was talking to this friend of mine and I kept noticing that there was so much life in his stories. I kinda envied him, to be honest with you. He had his heart broken several times and by many people but there he was, alive to tell his story. I envied him because he felt something. I envied him because despite everything that's happened to him, no one could say he wasn't out there living his life. Was I living mine?

Maybe somebody's out there living my life while I'm stuck here living his. Maybe I was supposed to go surfing or bungee jumping today but instead, I encoded verbal assessment forms for applicants.

Bungee jumping... I started to wonder- when was the last time I took a risk or made a life-altering decision? Times like these, I wouldn't mind getting a tattoo or shaving my head or coming up to a complete (and hopefully harmless) stranger to ask for the time. I dunno, something to get me out of this... this.. place here.

I'm bored. I've said it fifty million times today. I've texted it, emailed it, everything less than sending it via singing telegram (♪ I'm booooored! ♪) to every person I know. I'm bored and I'm numb. None of the books I read make sense anymore. None of the conversations seem worth the effort of talking. I sit in bed wondering if anyone out there is more bored than me.

1 comment

  1. thanks for dropping by my page. hope you'll get your money from BPI soon. and for their sake, with less hassles.

    i love maria mena. sorry is one of my favorite songs. as are most of her songs, sorry is poignant and heartbreaking.

    "i sit in bed wondering if anyone out there is more bored than me."

    dude, you're talking to that person.

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