Lazy from C-Z

Today was supposed to be a cheat day, a moment to recuperate and recharge, after a long week of underreliance.  I had allowed myself a moment's notice to be free, and in turn, the wheels of reality reimbursed me thoughts of annihilation once again. It was difficult to engage myself with innocent fun. Thoughts of the days I spent in Las Palmas reverberate in my head allowing me no refuge from undesired thrusts from assertive ideals. It was as if the pain and suffering of six days worth of walk was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. I still have yet to scratch the surface, but I fear that the adverse effect of this is that I become attuned to the physical toll, and that once all is said and done, I then will become overly reliant on it. I do miss Ainhoa a lot, and it is indeed a struggle to pretend not to be so, but she is not the sole reason why I feel the way I do now. Yes, she permeates my senses daily, a voice whispering inside my head, but she is a great force of posi

"Never come near me or my sister ever again! Asshole!" Mati's voice echoed loudly at the long street. Jake walks away, about to burst into tears. Maia, 24, squats in front of her sister, apologetic for the ruckus that had just occurred. Maia was bawling her eyes out, but was able to blurt out something coherent to Mati. "He's not coming back. It's over." "Fucking of course, Mai! I warned you, didn't I?!" It was only then that Maia realises her sister's high-pitched voice has not been used since they were in their teens. Maia remembers it very well. It was during a family friend's wedding. Mati was mad at Maia because she broke the expensive camera their mother gifted Mati only weeks before then. She loved that camera like it was her own, and Maia clumsily let it slip from her hands when trying to take a photo of her sister pecking a kiss near the wedding cake with Mauro, Mati's first boyfriend. They were together for a year. Mau

The air was icy when the sun had shone. Too soon, I thought. I had barely gotten anything productive out of the long post-midnight solitude, frozen on the chair where I sat for hours, staring at the computer screen entertaining myself with two, three-minute clips of material I had already seen before, all while waiting for something minutely interesting to happen. Perhaps I had been soaked here for too long in this abyss that now it kind of becomes second nature. Long have I been alone and long have I been thirsty. The sun is up, meaning it is high time for me to choke the chicken before heading to sleep. I wonder whether to be sad or be happy for the mundanity of it all, but either way time waits for no one, including me, and I must away. As I lie on the bed wondering what to do, I feel a pang of anxiety slowly growing from behind my neck, slowly gaining awareness, and I start to wonder if it is exactly what I think it is.

It was a fun evening that did not last long. Old friends had congregated together in a pub once again after ten long years. Most of the people there had forgotten what my face might have looked like. When I was first asked, I was quite hesitant to go, knowing that the last time we had seen each other were not exactly in good terms. It was a heartbreaking ordeal, and it was saddening to me that we had parted in such a tumultuous end. As I entered the pub, I worried that my clothing of choice might not be appropriate for such an occasion. The others had always been quite typically quaint British. Thrift store preppie babies with a mild taste for cardigans and tweed. Once I stepped into the garden where they had cooped up, not much has changed. Before I could voice out my opening hello, everyone had lit up and screamed my name in unison after seeing me with such a boisterous hurray. I admit I did appreciate the surprising reaction. It had been quite some time since anybody had felt such j

Maia, now 23, slapdashes towards the gate where she had assumed the scarf she had fell off while hanging on her shoulder. There was nothing there but the brusque wailing of the arid land. She stood there disappointed for a minute or two before she decides to call her friend Jake, who is waiting for her at a café they frequent to to grab coffee. She tells him she no longer was in the mood to meet and drops the call before he could even get a single word out. She walks away with her feet stamping at every step. She starts shedding some tears with a frown, and looks at everything around her with a cursive tantrum. She arrives home, tears dried on its own. Her mother looks at her with only a slight hesitation. She knew. "It's just a th--" "Don't," Maia interjects. "I won't say anything else then, only that Jake called." Maia was already gone, locked up in her own space wherein she was alone with her thoughts. Mati comes out of the kitchen and asks