Maybe it's a broken heart.

Maybe i should stop thinking about him. And her. And my cousin's cat. And the world. Maybe i should just stop.

It would hurt bad if i let it, but i've pretty much boxed myself in, right now, and i'm okay. I'm walking backwards in my head, away. Just away. Till it's all a pleasant buzz.

Last week I got so stinking drunk i crawled halfway down a muddy mountain during a typhoon to get home. I curled up on my doorstep and thought. Then i stopped thinking and passed out on the stairs. I woke at two. The roof leaked on my head. I crept into my bed and closed my eyes and tried to forget everything.

Today i squeezed between a jeepney driver with an exotic aroma and my mother who complained every meter of the journey home from divisoria. I leaned my head back but everything was trying to push their way inside my head. I stood in the rain moments later and waited for a taxi. Stupid taxis. They ask where you're headed and then zoom off before you can step back. Taxi drivers and Trike drivers are a new species of leech.

And i think, why should i care? Fuck that.

He could be going around this very night with a few million sperm cells ready and waiting for a swim in some unsuspecting girl's uterus. Hell, they could be racing right now. I hope he gets whoever she is pregnant.

I am tired. So bone tired. Dead tired, even. but we all are. Maybe it's life. Maybe life sucks. Maybe it's just a broken heart. If i had one.