me | in the pink of

blame it on PMS.

lately, i’ve noticed myself getting emotional.

i began this post with that statement to also warn you (yes, you, who have intentionally or accidentally gotten to this page) that, yeah, this is no different from the usual personal ramblings of some other rambly bloggers out there. so, if you do not want to divert from your good vibes, do not, as in do not, proceed. but if you still want to, thank you. for choosing to join me as i wallow in those emotions.

don’t get me wrong though. i don’t hate the universe. i may be socially awkward at times but i don’t hate people. i don’t smile much, but i giggle and laugh a lot. i stopped indulging myself in high-schoolish diaries after my first real heartbreak as a promise to myself that i will never again rant or grieve that way, or never again rant or grieve, period. what i just always tell myself is that there are people who are in deeper sadness or deeper poverty than i am in. not that i don’t sympathize but it’s a reminder that i don’t have much right to feel bad about myself. but we all know that emotions are stubborn. we will feel for the simple fact that we feel. and even if my occasional sorrow is none compared to the other problems the world has, it’s still not non-existent. i’m just trying to justify my being emotional lately and actually giving in to that.

i know i have a choice not to. i can do any activity that will require me to think of other things, to move, and to have fun. but even having fun stirs emotions up. not really crying. but usually, ending in that. happy or sad things, every little thing seems to poke my lacrimal gland. a co-worker and her newborn son. a predictable movie scene. a game-show contestant winning. an old woman asking for alms. and even those pesky kids in the street who want to grab the cold drink in my hand. worse, the emotions don’t choose a place when they attack. at my work station while trying to understand the English a grade-one-or-so student attempts to write. on the bus when i am standing and people pushing me in, brushing off my boobs and butt, and stepping on my foot. and even inside the restroom while trying to endure the not-to-be-mentioned kind of smell because one irresponsible fellow did not flush. but the worst place is in my little space called home because here, when emotions knock, i do not only let them in. i also entertain them by playing the how-i-met-your-mother episode where depressed Robin came home and Ted surprised her with the singing and dancing Christmas light display he had set up. i wish i had that, too. not Ted. the singing and dancing Christmas lights.

i know this emotional state i am in lately is really bad. i am not self-pitying; i am world-pitying. i would want to say i’m trying to be funny with that line, but i am not for right at this moment, it is creeping in again.

sure, i can blame it on PMS.

or maybe on the fact that i turn a year older today.