I can't remember when I last went home. Sometimes, I can't even remember where that is.
I woke up around seven this morning, after a night of battling it out with unrequited love (or a hormonal-derived form of the same shit) and some Studio Ghibli films. My books are still stacked neatly beside my pathetic excuse for a bed, little doorways to varied forms of escape from the mundane insanity within my head (I especially like my new picture book on penguins).
Yesterday and today is supposedly dedicated to the preparation of my presentation on the chemical evolution of marine bioluminescence, so I bought three different cold coffee drinks from the corner store after having breakfast with the busy street of Anonas and its perpetually mad jeepney drivers.
On most days these past few months, I've been looking into interesting people and have been thinking, "hey, I can do better shit". Maybe the difference between them and me is that I don't.
Off to do some more unremarkable shit. Later.
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