Just another Call Center

Yet a Surrogate Family I Love

Hi there.

I wonder when you'd be able to read this. I have about fifty more minutes to expend right now. I wonder if you've already heard what's happened to our beloved IQ. Well... it died.

No, I don't want to say that. Let's just say it took a much, much needed rest. Yet, it did not die. It lives... on and on... right now, in the depressed hearts of so many.

I didn't really mean this letter to sound poetically dismal. It's just that I haven't let the misery out of my system yet. I haven't cried out of my own accord. I haven't succumbed to the wretchedness that has sunk its teeth in so many these past days.

You should've been there. It may seem shallow for those who do not understand... for those not affected... for those who never experienced what it was like... to have this "family" away from home.

I have attempted to drown myself in Bullsh*t Margaritas (a name of a drink so sweet with a kick so bitter). I have tried to drown myself in gallons of chlorinated water (a pool hopefully not stirred with urine). I have struggled to drown myself in sleepless nights, but I gained nothing but eye bags. Alas, the hole in my heart remains.

So here I find myself writing in the midst of a crowd that remains to make me feel so alone. I write words that do not rhyme for I have lost the touch, the motivation, the inspiration.

Perhaps most may think I am making such a big deal out of nothing. Other people have lost their jobs. Other people have families to feed. Other people have debts to pay. Other people are more unfortunate than I.

However, other people are lucky for they have cried and released the pain. I, on the other hand, remain here, dry-eyed; my soul agonizing behind this pretense of a smile.

Why? Why am I making a fool out of myself over nothing?

Perhaps because I want someone to find sense in this absurd ramblings of mine. Perhaps someone can understand what I have futilely endeavored to comprehend these past days, hours, minutes, seconds. Perhaps.

Or maybe it's because I feel so helpless that I just had to find some other outlet; hence, these ramblings. Grammatically incorrect. Invented words. Redundancy. Pardon me. It's just a futile attempt (again and again those words) to find my own release. Call it poetic license if you wish.

Thirty more minutes to go. I apologize for whatever inconveniences these writings may have caused you (`Talk about originality).

Take it easy. Cry. Write. Drink. Smoke. Laugh. Watch. Whatever. Do anything that helps. At the end of it all... smile :)

04.12.03 5:42 AM

And after almost five years, it seems to be happening again these days. Yes, the hourglass has been tipped again. What a precarious state.

01.12.08