I ask someone to save me from this moment, this chunk of space-time. It is self-inflicted, probably induced, and when seen with a wider perspective, petty.  Yet for it all to happen to me, homesick not of home, deprived of warmth from eyes that have known me for years, forgive me if sometimes I may sound like the universe revolves around me. 

Last night I sought the comfort in an overpriced coffee shop.  That was the first time in three months.  Probably because finally, my brain caught up with my life.  As pathetic as it may have sounded, my life so far was fast-paced.  Fast-paced, that I had excuses not to understand.  When life reaches monotony, the brain compensates by overthinking.  Maybe.  I distracted myself with stories of evolution, of Chekov or whoever that Russian writer was, of recollections of Y Tu Mama Tambien.  Ironically, these hours of distraction were the only few hours of peace in an ironically monotonous life.

To be fair, some people stop their lives as well, even if it's just to ask me if I'm okay.  Greatly appreciated, fellows.  The gestures are priceless.  Sad that they would fall within the 255 Php margin in the peace zone of the coffee shop, and sad that I couldn't say "Yes, I'm okay".  I need to lie to myself, just to go on with the next day, but for this one question, I cannot bring myself to do it.  If my life was going to be a lie for some six months, this would be the "At least".  That I'm not okay.

I am sad in this happy-go-lucky microcosm.  I am lonely in the middle of people giving me attention.  I am repressed living this carefree life.  Like I said.  It's self-inflicted, induced, petty.  And it's goddamn painful.