I'm wasted. And while I don't drink and get drunk, I'm addicted to a kind of fatalism that I just can't seem to let go. Today (or should I say, last night) was one of those days.

It's bad enough that I came home late from Ateneo because of a meeting. Of course my entire family was waiting for me at the gate as we had to go out at for dinner since it was my parent's anniversary. There, we wasted two hours on eating. We even brought home the lobster that was still twitching when we were eating its entrails.

After getting home, I again debaucher myself by going to Area 51. And that makes me come home at early in the morning, with the guards of our village greeting me "good morning sir".

Right now, my legs are throbbing and I feel lonely and uncertain. Yes, I'm depressed, but it's not depression out of some girl like what's happened the previous two years. It's born out of dissatisfaction out of life. And the meaningless direction my life is going.