Today I had that Ayusin-Mo-Na-Buhay-Mo Conversation with myself again. Yes, I talk to myself about life and yes, I do it often. This kind of conversation happens usually around this time — when half of the calendar year has already passed and some things are still frustratingly shitty and when I catch myself Iiving like I’ve flipped on the self-destruct switch. So. Dear self, ayusin mo na buhay mo. It’s not funny anymore.

Some of grandma’s former students came to visit her last week (she taught grade school way back then). They talked about their careers and their families, and how well my grandma sways her hips when she walks. 

Some days you end up too tired of your life that you list down the reasons why you even bother. Just. Fucking why. Although I don’t how to expound more on this and survive without anti-anxiety in my system.

There’s this Against Me! song that goes, “We do what we do to get by and then we need a release.” That line has never been this relatable.

And you just suck it up, put on a smile, and carry on. And then tell yourself “Fuck it. Fuck em all.” every time you feel like imploding.