Thoughts of a Nomad

I breathed deeply, the one that filled my lungs with enough air to last for a couple of minutes, or days perhaps. But that's just the absurd thought that I momentarily have in my subconscious mind. I couldn't breathe that long. So, this is it. When everything around you is dark, and there seems no chance of light to seep through a thin lining below the door or to any other tiny holes that leads to your room, you just want to stay there. Lie in your bed forever until you become weaker and weaker  each day. And there and there you die without anyone knowing.

But I'm not dying. I for sure knows that I don't want to die this time. That's just ridiculous of me. I tried my best to get rid of these unwanted thoughts and listened to the whirling of my two electric fans. The noise they make compliments the eerie silence of the room. Together, they produced a horrific sound, something zombie-iush. I still find this place scary sometimes.

How I wish I can talk to them, my two electric fans. How I wish they have a life of their own so that I can tell them happy and sad things. The same way, how I wish they will talk back so that we can share the same thoughts. I have a feeling that they know me very well. For all the years that I sleep and wake up together with them, I am sure that they know me more than anybody else.

I have to stop my rubbish thoughts. I rubbed my eyes with my wrist, removing all the unnecessary dirt that make them not able to see clearly. I stared at the ceiling for a while. Then, I realized that it isn't the ceiling but the upper deck of my bed. It's colored orange, the only thing that has color in that dark room. And I think it's nice.

I tilted my head a little to the right while my hand reached for the phone. It says 8.30 PM. What shall I do next? I don't know. I always don't know what to do. I am always unsure of almost everything around me. All I know is that I am hard, careless, and selfish. I think of nothing but my own. But that's not true, I also think about my mom everyday. Oh, yes, my mom, and my sister, too. I also think about falling inlove, if that's possible at this moment in time.

I also think of some old friends. Or if they were really friends. Or if they really thought of me as a friend. Or was there really friendship that blossomed among each of our hearts. Or was it my fault that I no longer have one. I know it wasn't my fault. I've been the ideal friend all along. Maybe I should just skip the friendship stage this time and save it for the future when they are no longer immature brats. They'll always be my ideal friends.

My thoughts were like these as I trailed the walks of the highway. I wore cargo pants, a checkered shirt, paired with a red hoody jacket. I can feel the chilling sensation brought by the wind. It's a hell of a wind. It's too cold for an ordinary evening wind. I can smell a scent of death through this wind. It was Sendong's wind but, it's no longer my problem. People live, people die. What make them worthy of remembering are their good deeds.

I neared the bakeshop as I think of these. I fished my wallet in my back pocket and scanned some peso bills. I have 40 pesos with me. With that, I can eat. I ordered a combo meal that consists of a longganisa, egg, and rice. I watched the saleslady as she gets the uncooked longganisa at the fridge. I enjoyed watching as she did the cooking.