So these past few days, my parents thought I was staying at my roommate’s place when in reality, I was staying at this guy’s (who is not my roommate because-duh he’s a guy) apartment. Hold your conservative and judge-y horses. My friend is away which means I’m living alone. I merely borrowed the place. On a side note, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a guy and girl or multiple guys and girls living together. It’s the 21st century for crying out loud. Putting a guy and a girl in one room at night does not mean they’ll have sex or have feeling for each other over night. That’s just in bullshit movies. So grow up, Philippines.
I woke up at 11 am. 8 hours of sleep, not too bad. I went to the bathroom, rummaged the fridge, it was empty. I took out a bottle of water, a bread, a cup, and a spoon and brought them upstairs. I made myself a nutella sandwich. I watched Band Of Brothers and when I got tired of it, I read The Lowland. The soldiers rationing their food reminded me of how I rationed my episodes. I know it’s not related but I still can’t help making a little connection. I had to limit myself to a few episodes or I’d run out of material to watch. I finished six episodes and the book. The show gave me strong mixed feelings. Every episode, there would be something that made me cry. I don’t oppose crying. I like letting my feelings out. I like crying alone. I didn’t go out. I just ate sandwiches the whole day. I took a bath, it was kinda hard considering there was no shower. Just a “tabo”. But it was a small price to pay for this kind of independence. I was alone and enjoying every minute of it. Nobody was saying or judging when I would eat, sleep, or take a bath. Nobody would tell me to clean up or do this or that. I was free. Even just for a little while.