It wasn't the most comfortable sleep, but at least I was able to, finally. Saturday night after work, I met up with friends from my previous job for an evening drive to Tagaytay. Had dinner, drinks, coffee, trickled with hilarious conversations until the wee hours of Sunday morning. They brought me back home just in time for me to take a quick bath and make myself remotely sober for work.
The whole day went by like a hastily made-up dream -- the kind where you feel like you've been drugged, everything's all hazy, and it seems as if everyone's secretly plotting your death, butcher knives behind their backs and sinister plans behind innocent smiles.
All in all it was Totally Awesome. I loved every paranoia-inducing second of it. But like all things bright and beautiful, it was all over before I even had the chance to enjoy it, and enjoy it the right way. At 6PM I was already in bed, sleeping, and drifting off to another kind of dream.
Twelve hours later, waking up, I feel absolutely fine. Drugged no more, I wade through the ocean of wires in my room. There's a faraway song playing in my head -- a sign that I'm leaving another evening behind. I chuckle involuntarily as I open the window. Dream or not, another day is about to begin.
