A Delayed Reaction

It's been a custom of mine to sleep every chance i get...sometimes even in class. In law school. Last Friday, people kept telling me how I was too easy a prey for snatchers--I'm always asleep, seem indifferent and place my important stuff in all the wrong places. Later that day, it finally happened: my phone got stolen.

On the venting side:

I absolutely hate how motherfucking thieves are so cunning and take advantage of people like me! People who are too tired from last night studying for an exam. People who are none too richer and who are working their asses off, knowing fully well that life is not fair. And what do they get? Well, to put it bluntly, what's not theirs.

There's something absolutely wrong with the coping mechanism that goes this way: Buti na lang walang masamang nangyari sa'yo. So what, now I actually have to thank the thief who took advantage for not going out of his way to inflict harm on his victim? But alas, we live in a country where we apparently have to be on our toes every single second and pray that nothing more harmful than getting one's belongings stolen happens to us.

On a seemingly unrelated note, let me just say: I hate how this country's elites (who go way back from the Spanish and/or American times, exerting their good time and effort sucking up to aliens) are practically running this country's government...and how many of the poverty-stricken (some of them aren't even poor to begin with!) have taken the streets for their thieving hands.

On a somewhat romantic note:

Actually, the moment I found out my phone was stolen, I didn't give a rat's ass about where or how I lost it. I immediately thought: Shit. I can't remember his cellphone number!

And so I spent the remaining time of travel for trying to mash together random numbers in my mind in the remote chance that somewhere along the trail, I'll come up with the perfect permutation that is, his number.

I didn't. What happened was, I got home, was scolded by my mom, and waited for him to show up in the one place I know he would. He did. And just like that, all the problems went away. No shit. It's amazing, how a conversation with someone miles away can just take it all away with one simple hello. Literally.

Why am I even writing about an event that happened almost a week ago?

Two things:

1. I am tired of reading about Legal Profession aka What-You-Shouldn't-Think-of-Doing-When-You-Get-There. Or stressing over an upcoming exam, for that matter. I think I've gotten to the point where I'm just tired of studying all the time. And what's weird is, I don't even study all the time!

2. I am counting the days, literally, before I get to see him again. Waiting. It's like suspending reality for that one or two days of genuine happiness, of the consummation of this thing we have. Or, actually, it's more like suspending the drone of everyday nothingness for those two days where I get to see and touch and hear this reality of loving him.