Eight hours off work...

Actually, reviewing my math, it's still 15 hours away... Eight hours is just the bus ride from Naga to Manila. Add a few more minutes for the trip to Antipolo, back to the place where i work.

It's always like this. There's always a feeling of melancholy as i wait for my Ma's pechay-giniling dinner; as i wait for my pamangkin to wake up from his short siesta for this afternoon; as i talk to my Pa about future plans for the house and other family stuff; all of them and some i will miss, one way and the other and it kind of hurts a little bit that i have to return to work again after spending just 48 hours or less in Naga...

In a word, it SUCKS that i have to work very far far away from what you would like to call home.

i ALWAYS envy friends and officemates and some that live in Manila where their family and close friends and some are located--- the simple happiness that brings you to a smile after a hard day's work, or just the fact that they are there after a lazy morning during weekend or self-declared weekends that is a Thursday because you just want to bum around and sit and sit and sleep and eat and sleep and sit some more on that day.

Work, here i come again. Better not bore me this week and this month and the rest of the year. i might just consider leaving it ALL so i can return to Naga... To bum around and sit and sit and sleep and eat and sleep and sit some more.

The sum of a world of difference is your indifference

So much for your apathy. Here's a mad try to complete this poem, free verse or whatever it's called.

The sum of a world of difference is your indifference

can there be a happy ending
with out a beginning?
a ray of hope
that empties itself
to a world void of you
your world can never be mine,
your world, so so fine
my world created
by an endless fire of a past
in a world of ire

can there be a new beginning
with reservations for a same old ending?
a hopeless light
tries to shine bright
in a world void of you
your world, i wish it was mine
your world, so so fine
my world, it could be yours
ah! such empty hopes like the past
recreated by a world of indifference

can there be a middle ground
in all of these unreasonable extremes?
a hopeful sight
even in a world void of you
your world is not mine
and mine can never be so so fine
but it could be yours
give in, give up, give all
the savior is a world of difference

can anyone save me now
from this open apathy?
hope (against hope)
voids a world with out
your world that will never be mine
a world as fine as your empty smile
i could be yours
you could be mine
if only the sum of this world of difference
is not defined by your indifference