thedeskofsam

[thedeskofsam]

The Loser Has Spoken

Lately, I've been revisiting screenshots, dull moments in the archives, and reading old conversations.

There are so many supplies of bitter nostalgia when it comes to stories from last year - moments not worth celebrating. However, one conversation I had saved felt like a punch in the gut that could ricochet. I was grieving over someone not worth mentioning here, and I was having one of those late-night deep talks with one of my acquaintances.

Something there goes by the line: "We were able to talk. And from what I see, it's over. You lost this one."

Nothing breaks a perfect stance of fighting for what you think was love than saying that you lost the fight straight to your face. And I believed it. I let it define that moment - I lost. Sore loser.

Benjamin Harrison, the 23rd president of the United States, said that "The bud of victory is always the truth."

And he is right on that one. Over the next few months after that conversation, I have heard stories that felt like knives with "loser" labels on them twisting themselves deeper into me. It was an all-out narrative massacre. But, surprisingly, I forgot that labels can be changed. Who says I can't rewrite the word loser into something more positive and still let it hurt me?

Am I still a loser for losing something that's not even true in the first place?

Am I still a loser for excluding myself from a circle full of theatrics and chaos?

Am I still a loser for choosing the quiet way of life?

I let that one stupid sentence consume my confidence, question my worth, and overthink whether I was the problem the whole time. It is only now that I remember who I was.

If I can change these labels, so can you. You don't have to take them out; we let it hurt. Accepting both gains and losses in every fight we encounter has its fair share of pain.

We may be losers on some specific ends. But with everything good that happened to us after that declaration overwrites it to what it should be all this time - a boring and meaningless sentence.

I'm dying to see that loser's face from last year after I tell him everything. Tell your losers your own version, too.

[thedeskofsam]

The aftermath... and now what?

Healing is such a funny slope. And what's even more amazing is that it defies the passage of time. One day, we're chaotically crying over things or people we lost. And now, we're writing stuff with a clear mind and a clubhouse sandwich on hand.

Ends and beginnings are nothing new; I wrote them countless times here. But why does it still feel scary and sometimes boring when going through the same cycle? Or worse, getting sucked back into that realm of nothingness?

Crazy to think that so many things in my life changed within a year. The kid who once begged for love is now learning to live without it. And the story goes on and on.

I cannot count the number of things that evolved. But I still certainly remember the number of sleepless nights, the times I went back to church, the days I went to different places, even the stanzas of every poem I made during that time, just to get to this moment.

And for what? Am I now healed? Apparently not. That little spark inside yearns to ignite but remains suppressed due to these changes. That's the thing about starting over. It's like rereading your favorite horrible novel. You go through madness in every chapter just to finish the story. Surprisingly, we still enjoy every page of it.

But what happens after that? It's either we start a sequel of it, or revisit the bookmarks over and over.

You can also burn the whole book.

Start over, my friend. Learn to let go in the name of self-care. After all, the aftermath of all these things is just another prologue.

[thedeskofsam]

I wish I had a name...

I wish I had a name that made me important.

Whose cries are heard even by the finest hand.

I wish I had a title, a stature, an elevation.

I wish I had all these keys to get the appreciation.

It's not that I long for things that could have been.

I wish I was too known and visible to be always seen.

I wish I was someone of glitz and great value,

someone whose pleads are not ways to argue.

I wish I had the name, so attention gets robbed.

And disguise it as something that people will love.

I wish I had known, to go beyond me.

I wish, I wish, somehow, I'm the priority.

[thedeskofsam]

I wish I was a model...

I was looking through a few Instagram profiles and bookmarked TikTok videos since yesterday and suddenly accepted the fact that I don't look like any of them. Not even by a hair. I opened my album of "post-worthy" photos and compared myself to one of them. He was the type of guy people would fall head over heels to - a smooth face, a great body, awesome personality that would garner thousands of likes.

I opened Spotify and started to play Bejeweled again. And I know that I am playing it not to be enjoyed like how it's meant to but I am playing it to assure myself that my face isn't a tragedy of its own and I am worth loving

Last year, I used all types of serums and toners my skin could tolerate, bought every whitening deodorant I could see, collected various scents, changed my hair, bought decent outfits, and even starved myself to fit into a societal mold. Today proved that I will never fit in no matter how I tried to polish myself nicely.

People who know me might read this and disagree with everything I say given how I see myself. But I know they won't read this so it's better to say the truth. I don't feel physically approved. I feel ugly, I feel like a blobfish. Even though the blobfish is cute in their own way. I feel like a deep sea creature yet to be discovered by mankind.

But as the song continuously plays in my mind, I assure myself that I have something that equates to their beautiful curves and bulging biceps. I have something in me that I can offer to the world that they will see as beautiful and worthy of a thousand imaginary likes, comments, and reactions. I have just yet to discover them.

I may not have a good body, a promising career on the rise, thousands of followers, and thirst traps to die for, but I know that, in one way or another, when I walk in the room, somehow, I can still make the whole place shimmer.

[thedeskofsam]

Sigh-lence

I am writing this stream-of-consciousness post with a dizzy head, a sore throat, and a mind fresh from a panic attack.

Earlier, I did a little catching up with a good friend. It's been a while since we got to talk because I've been very quiet lately since I started working here at my new job. We've been friends since elementary school and it just amazes me to think that we were not close with each other as before, they laugh pretty well whenever I make a joke around our other friends but we do not talk that much on a "personal" scale, like one-on-one levels. Until we started to watch Drag Race Philippines together in the past year. Going back to earlier, it fascinates me how that small conversation we had gave a temporary fix to what is happening to me. It's like things remained the same, nothing changed, and no one's mad. Maybe because they are used to me disappearing and reappearing, maybe because they understand, or maybe because we are now in the process of being responsible people.

I know that, at times, all 6 of my dearest friends get tired of me, being loud, overly dramatic, and spammy. And in that overthinking phase, I tend to detach. But one thing is for sure - they're always there when I come back because they understand. I know they don't tolerate me and that unhealthy attitude. But they give me time to heal and process things when I feel overwhelmed. You won't see them calling me toxic on Twitter because they know they can say it to me directly when the time is right. I am fortunate enough to have them see the bigger picture of me, the other side behind my abrasiveness (which I am now trying to fix).

But this silence and peace I am working on and trying to conceal myself in came with a price, I've cut off people who made me feel unwanted and I am now facing the wrath of their Twitter accounts, and I've severed ties with toxic family members who smile at you only when you're facing them. And now, I'm seen as the villain with no communication skills for choosing the quiet path. This will probably be the last time you'll hear me talk about this, I'm done and craving for a donut.

Right now, I'm learning to protect myself from thinking again, only focusing on doing what I love. I want to preach about protecting your peace and being kind, but it seems hypocritical at the time being. I'm working on that. I'm rebranding my mindset, I'm guarding my heart, and I'm learning to value my safe spaces - to never again be the sponge soaked by the business and problems of others.

---

Also, there's this blank profile on Instagram that has been watching my stories for a while. They don't follow me or anyone. They just pop into my story viewers consistently. And while it does make me a little anxious, I want them to enjoy the show.

I'm also listening to BLU EYES lately. It's all Tiktok's fault. They make great songs!!! Perfect for the currently unstable me.

Good night.

[thedeskofsam]

We Found Love...

It has been a while since #FENTYBOWL happened and my confession is I haven't watched the whole performance - given that I am just a casual listener of Rihanna. But as I was scrolling TikTok the other night, a clip of her singing "We Found Love", one of my favorite songs of hers popped into my FYP. And it was glorious to the ears.

I've been listening to it repeatedly in the past few days and something just came back to me. A week ago, I got my haircut because I was about to start my new job from home and I needed a fresh face for online conferences and documentation. The person doing my hair - let's call them Missy - asked about my aunt whom they also did her hair before she left for the USA last January. Missy jokingly said: "You know what, you should also search for someone like her husband, a foreigner with a cool surname, go to BGC or Makati if you're looking for love, that's where you belong." I chuckled, and jokingly said, "I've been there, but haven't found someone." To which they replied, "Keep exploring. You're still young. We, we only belong here (pertaining to this small city we live in), because nobody would want to date someone like us, trans people."

And I was left speechless at that, not knowing what to say. Frankly, Missy and their coworkers are one of the most caring, entertaining, thoughtful, and HELLA-creative people I've ever met. And I've known them for a huge chunk of my life. They deserve to be seen and loved because I know that they are one of the purest souls I can think of. Even though I am not frequently hanging out with them, they are the safest bubble in the LGBTQ+ community here. And they deserved to have someone to be their own safe bubble. Me, I am not currently looking for one as of the moment, yeah, there are times when I long for some companionship, but it was never a priority after what happened last October. I'm focusing on reinventing myself, detoxifying my mental state, and thinking of room redesigning ideas.

And what made me closer to them and respect them, even more, is something unexpected that I found out about Missy the past few weeks. My dad got his haircut as well and we were having a casual dinner chat. He told me that the person who did his hair, whom I have a very bad feeling about right off the bat, told him that Missy and some of the other queer people we know are positive for HIV. I was mad because it confirmed that this person, let's call them Pep, is truly a bully. And because this person is a hypocritical member of an LGBTQ+ group here in our city who, by their membership, should've KNOWN BETTER. I was also on the verge of signing up for that group and now, I am thanking the universe for saving me. It takes one look to see if things are sketchy. Of course, my dad, being the millennial that he is, kept giving me safety "tips" whenever I will get my hair done with Missy. I don't listen. Confirmed or otherwise, I know how to protect myself. A month from now, I'll get my hair done again and hopefully, give Missy a bigger tip this time.

I took a melatonin pill because it's been two days since my last decent sleep. And I just wrote this before the words and context swept into slumber.

[thedeskofsam]

Statum Gratiae

It's been a while since I entered church doors, and it's also been a while since I last told almost my entire cyber world that I will be taking some time off of the net. Kind of hypocritical but hear me out.

I think it's funny to think that a few weeks ago, I was crying on the way home after the final day of work I resigned from. I still remember the ride home, the texts, how I perceived myself as a colossal failure, how the person next to me can be seen in the window reflection checking me out, the sound of Phoebe Bridgers's outro of 'Scott Street' and how the traffic lights blended themselves with the already visible light pollution.

There I was a week after, dormant, waking up to a message I'd been expecting since November. It catapulted me back to the momentum that gradually faded over time.

Another week later, another clear message. The seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, the universe, everything was in my favor.

I never told anyone, not my remaining set of friends, my closest cousins, and even my mom never knew a thing. It was only me, my Gmail account, and my godmother. They worked hand in hand with the universe and the greater unknowns, it was a blueprint of some kind and it amazes me how things have their perfect timing. She asked me a favor: go to church on Sunday, and light a candle for thanksgiving because she promised this in her prayers. I went there earlier with 5 candles, 3 for this answered prayer, and 2 for a departed friend.

It was an anxiety-filled period of waiting not knowing it was waiting for me all along.

[thedeskofsam]

Dear Not John

Contrary to my usual emotional impulse phases, no, I am in my folklore era.

I find myself busy getting lost in this fictional world of dance and theater where I have no one but an imaginary ensemble beside me. But in the last few days, where I see the sun setting more slowly than before, where I see myself not getting excited once the clock hits 6 in the evening, feeling like a big nuisance, and even feeling empty grabbing a bite out of a pasta dinner, I guess it's the right time to retreat into the shadows for a bit, enjoy the silence and reflect in simplicity.

I've dated people who told me that I talk loudly in public and that I should tone it down, with them not knowing that I feel embarrassed once I enter my bedroom door and thinking that at some point, I may have caused a minuscule uproar with what I deemed plainly as me being excited with things. There is also this sinking feeling that I may have annoyed someone once I share a post, story, tweet, or Tiktok video. That is why I am writing this as a momentarily farewell? I know that I will still write stuff but in terms of other socials, I know where to stand in its grey area now. I am doing this for my own good, to better myself along with my morals, my language, and even my image. This might come off to those who know as another manipulative tactic for me to draw attention to myself again. But I am done feeding myself with what people might see or hear, I want to revert from being the abrasive and loud Sam to the calm and composed Tamtam who only wanted to dance and eat peanut butter cookies.

I may have gotten tipsy the other day, and hello to the videos of me being a wreck in public, but after that, I noticed that I am strictly restricting my voice and I swear that I will try my very best to make it the last time my voice reaches a few decibels above the "anti-annoyance standards". Maybe this will be a good time for me to get back to my crafts, finish that book, and revisit the playlists I've left hanging.

We are still in the second month of a brand-new year and a lot can be done to flush these social toxins even if we take one step a day. I know that I will always champion people who are authentically and unapologetically themselves and would further promote them to never ever change because society is one big boomer. It's kind of ironic on my end. But I know it must be done. No more swearing? No more annoying meme spamming? No more rants? No more hyperboles? No more oversharing? Fingers crossed!

I am not in my "reputation era", I am simply just enjoying Call It What You Want for a while. If anybody sees this, see you in a few, I'll be busy in intentionally getting myself lost for a while.

[thedeskofsam]

A Dead Poet in Society

Well, it's been a while since I sat down and wrote something personal, something that does not involve promoting a product or setting up calendar appointments on some online conferencing app. Hello, 2023. I am writing this using my new laptop my godmother gave me. I named it Lumiere. Because despite the not-so-bright screen, it was godsent during "the dark days" of 2022. I've been struggling materialistically and emotionally last year, these jobs that wouldn't take a fresh graduate out of the water, my current laptop not fitting the employment requirements, family, "friends", a birthday I celebrated drunk on my own, and a compulsive liar on the loose - it was a cascade of epic disproportions.

Usually, as a writer, I would turn to my notepads, word documents, or the "EL MEMOIR" file to write something poetic, but the rhymes are no longer there. I've been actively talking to some new people, finding comfort in unfamiliarity. I've been making internet friends since 2017, and they have been one of the strangest but coolest comfort clouds out there despite of my trust issues. One thing common about some of them is that they write poetry. And they are proud of what they write. For me, it would be the final piece of the puzzle, to finally find my type of people. But behind the sweetest rhymes, the imagery, the bold metaphors, and the penmanship, these words meant nothing. Before, I used to think of these types of poets as authentic beings. Sadly, these words were masks of what they wanted me to see. How can you trust and love someone who wrote you the most vivid world-building prose with full effort and passion to have it interpreted as lies in the end? That's the last straw, I guess. I still want to write, and I still want to finish maybe 8-10 series of my poetry account. But when the only thing I used to live for has its whole existence turned into something I wouldn't dare go near, it sucks more life out of me. Writing is my life - but it needs to be continuously resuscitated because it is currently hanging by a thread.

I tried distracting myself from it, maybe it will find its way back to me by focusing on my then job, devoting my time to taking photos of tall buildings, and getting myself lost in a park with a turtle and crane pond. Right now, I'm still adjusting to this adult life, to a society struggling to get by the day, without my personal arsenal or words with me. I feel like I'm bringing a knife to a gunfight.

But I know myself, I'm taking my time, because I know I won't go down unscathed.

[thedeskofsam]

Reclaiming The Land

It's me. Hi.

Straight to the point - this year is full of goodbyes. These goodbyes were such a deadly dose of emotional morphine that numbed me down until I became immune to them.

For starters, this might be the last time I will be writing an article with my current laptop, one I had for almost 7 years. The one who, despite the lag and frequent blue screens of death, witnessed my social media renaissance up to finishing my studies, one panic attack after the other.

I also said goodbye to my youth, the part of me clinging to the seats of every classroom I came into. I no longer wake up to 8 am classes but to 6 am jogging activities or 9 am existential crisis episodes.

Lastly were the people. I've learned throughout the years that some people will truly not be meant to be in my life in the long run. And the usual mechanism I had for that is: to hell I care. But it is truly shocking to have the majority of them go in just a quick span. I miss my aunts and uncles from the US, those who made me feel interesting enough to have around. I've lost friends along the way, friends who made me feel I belong and was valued, or so I thought. Lost interest in a family who switch sides, all for a deadly and materialistic Quarter Quell. I lost someone who kissed me in a dark alley at midnight, someone who called my voice "cute", and someone who could not envision a future for us both. God forbid that I also lose the remaining people in my life through this adulting phase.

I might be entering 2023 a little more lonely than before, not used to the casual dullness of my messaging apps. But on the upside of things, I learned to value my peace, restrain myself from emotionally investing too much, and have just the right and recommended dose of companionship from people who include me - even how small I seem to fit in the picture.

I am on my own for a bit, reclaiming the land, missing who I used to be, but will turn things around into a real fucking legacy.

2023, to hell I care.

[thedeskofsam]

Vergangenheit

The past hits closer to home, especially at times when you least expect its ghosts to barge into your subconscious. You clench your outfit, your bed sheets, your arms or your cheeks, or the pillow you're hugging when the cringe comes to take its place. These past few weeks for me have been a mess in my own timeline where I see myself reliving and revisiting the past, getting lost and drunk in the present, and setting into stone daydreams I had about the future.

My friends and even some of my cousins would call me absurd for this. But I am falling - again. This time, on a much more secure cloud 9. It may be too soon to tell, or even pathetic to jump to conclusions in short timespans but in this entry, I try to live on the parallel timelines of the past and present.

Much like how Taylor kept Joe throughout the years, I can now see where she is coming from. It's a short circuit of oxytocin when you finally found someone you visualized yourself building a steady foundation with. To finally achieve harmony with someone who sees the bigger picture and enjoys the little things, someone who impresses the world with his potential legacy and not his Instagram feed, someone who compiles your notes when you give them stuff and not ask for the price, someone who laughs at your weird mannerisms and not your insecurities.

Someone who became the first one to write me a poem all these years.

Someone who held my hand like a child and kissed me in the rain drunk.

The list can go on. But that is for the history books I will eventually write and save in my mental library once I snap out of this... somehow... an endless myriad of serotonin clouds. If you care enough and would like to find out more about it, I suggest you listen to Lover by Taylor Swift.

[thedeskofsam]

Waste Disposal

I love myself. But I never thought of calling myself "Sewer".

The past week has been draining me so bad and it's not because of any responsibility related to what keeps me occupied. The people around me are. I recently deleted my fan account for SEVENTEEN's Junhui - my happy pill - not because I'm leaving the fandom. But I am trying to eliminate human contact as much as possible for a while. Heck, I even included my NSFW Twitter account

Wholesomely, I love my family: my parents, the dogs, the cousins, Timmy. But some members are just emotional black holes - all dense and voided pieces of matter that suck the energy out of you even before coming in contact with them. Those who watch my every move and make a big fuzz out of it when tend to swerve. It's just because I have the approval of the elders here. Mr. Sewer is probably the golden child of the family branch because they see me as the one with the talent in academics, the passionate and responsible kid. All traits you can classify as a threat to the others' claim to the possible inheritance. Here they are, obviously trying their desperate hardest to outshine Sewer and put their best, fungi-infected foot forward. As a Slytherin, I love the competition. But we also hate show-offs.

Don't get me started with the friends who seemingly don't want me around and those who always want me around. It's overwhelming, in levels above the red alert. I appreciate those who keep me grounded and sane. That's all for now, I guess. It's hard to squeeze in a thought without coming out again as the villain and the mean bitter Sewer. I'm tired. I'm done. I want a new laptop.

My hands still smell like olive oil and I've been craving for Almond Jelly earlier but due to my tooth fillings, I cannot eat cold food like before, yay. So, I guess, I will just continue with my lessons in Hangul.

Or... buy basil, parsley, and mint seeds online. Whatever.

Is it weird that I've been listening to "GTA Liberty City Stories Double Clef FM Radio Station Full" on YouTube while doing normal house work, pretending to be cleaning an Italian villa?

[thedeskofsam]

Scared of Dentists and the Dark...

For a year now, I've been hiding a grave insecurity - my wisdom teeth. I overcame my yellow teeth insecurity via a TikTok video validating that teeth are supposed to be yellow. But this time, it was a cavity taking its toll. Realizing I am already at fault for eating hard-shelled chips and snacks, what more can we expect, right?

I actually had an appointment for this a year ago, but some relatives who don't respect the time of others suddenly bumped the trip home from vacation causing me to miss and it lead us to today. Riptide's first verse repeats in the cusp of relief and discomfort. This somehow refutes the previous remark of the campus dentist that my pain threshold is high. IT WAS PAINFUL. The clinic's CCTV is pointed at me and to my left, the TV is there, showing me what I currently look like - wishing for this to end. I am now forever scared of dentists.

As I write this, I can still feel the sting in my teeth all the while suffering the thought that I couldn't chew my beloved chicken roll properly earlier or the coffee jelly dessert I made yesterday. No sweets.

I am currently listening to Harry's House because my friend suggested it earlier. I am supposed to be enjoying "Daylight" but here I am - chewing the day slowly off of my mind.

May God help us all.

[thedeskofsam]

Red Lights, Stop Signs

I got my driver's license last week... and thank God.

No pun intended but it was a horrible ride in getting this piece of plastic. I only did this because it seems interesting and cool at first. I just want to drive in a huge city in the middle of the night blasting "Heroes" by Alesso and admire the cityscapes. I also don't want to waste the expenses because driving school is no joke. But no, it is me panicking in the middle of the road every time the engine stops because of this stupid clutch, me getting yelled at by the traffic enforcer for being slow, and me road raging about two slow-walking pedestrians.

Anyway, I was glad it was all over. I was quite nervous because of the practical exam before getting the license because it's been a few months since I've been on the driver's seat and actually took the wheel. The inspector just told me to drive forward, reverse that horrible car with the horrible steering wheel and put it back again on the place it was before - I passed. That was it.

The most important thing is that I have mine now. I'm not excited to use it, though.

Man, I just want a McFlurry at this moment.

[thedeskofsam]

Ketchup (January Queue)

As what I have said in the previous post, I am doing a little catching up on the music I've missed. And I am excited to tell everything I liked now whether you care or not. Deal with it.

I started with some new releases from Hippo Campus. In my notifications, it only showed three songs: Ride or Die, Semi Pro, and Boys. And I loved the three of them. I thought this was just an EP release much like Warm Glow but turns out they also released an album called "LP3" with the aforementioned songs in it. Will listen to the rest after I am done with my queue. Next up I got to listen to the whole album BRIGHTSIDE by The Lumineers. It was not my cup of tea, not because it is bad. THE LUMINEERS ARE GOD TIER! But the mood of their songs in this album does not fit my current taste. BIRTHDAY is good, though. Next is 4AM by Will Joseph Cook, perfect for late night walks, but here, we have a curfew. This also goes well with Conan Gray's Jigsaw.

We then proceed to Wingtip's Everything Forever EP. Don't get me started here!!! WINGTIP NEVER DISAPPOINTS! I've fallen in love with Leave Yourself Alone!! It's Wingtip after all, what can you expect? Just quality music! Passenger by Young Rising Sons is so intense, good for driving. Yoste's Let Me Swim is so relaxing! Lastly, it's been a while since I listened to ieuan lately and found out that they released an album called A STUDY IN ANTE MERIDIEM. And it was so nostalgic that it took me back to 2017 where I discovered them through an internet friend. It feels like I'm listening to Honey Lavender for the first time. Ugh.

[thedeskofsam]

Paradiso

Fuck the daylight! I'm going after paradise now - where I know I am safe even if it's dark.

I've been cutting connections for a while now to, again, focus on myself. You can listen to "mirrorball" by Taylor Swift for the full context of what is currently happening. Throughout, I've been working on keeping myself relevant, important, and imprint myself a standout to the people around me, to the point that I sacrifice who I really am. And like my 5 am runs, I chase. I chase people to still pick me when they find someone cool, when they write a story I am not a part of, when they retract an ounce of treatment from their usual bravado. But I am done living for the approval. I am done pretending to be liked, I am done hiding behind a camera filter.

It's been days and I've noticed people don't treat me the same like before. While I am not trying to invalidate their current situation that makes them feel that way, some are just too obvious. And that's okay.

As I write this, I am listening to the stack of newly released music on my Spotify's notification bar. And in front of me is my other phone updating PUBG Mobile, and in the table across - my condenser microphone getting ready to record a podcast episode.

Fuck the daylight - I'm in paradise now.

[thedeskofsam]

Oratio Imperata

Hi, Sam.

It's been a while since I called you by your birthname.

Here we are again, eh? That same sinking feeling? You know what, I can't believe you. You always say that you hate jumping when you're working out and here you are again, jumping to new conclusions. I bet they're still the same as before? With different people involved this time? Some are still the same, I assume. The one where you feel you're not good enough? Hey, it's not your fault that some people around you right now changed their energy toward you causing you to feel unimportant, unappreciated, or left hanging. Of course, you won't listen to that. But really, you know for yourself, over and over, that you deserve the love you give, even in secret. Simon says - You deserve a great love story! (Even if you have or don't have someone to share it with.)

Who cares if they left you on read? Who cares if they didn't interact with you the same way as before? Who cares if they prefer someone "better" just because you don't fit the mold society has set. If that's even possible. No one is the better version of anyone except for themselves. Here you are again, at the end of an awful day, waiting for the next awful day - tomorrow, perhaps?

But look at the bright side! Earlier, you slept next to your cat, she didn't leave the room; you changed the stickers on your laptop and refused to throw away your Squirtle sticker; and you even ate a whole pancake and a lemon cake slice even if it's against your diet's will. They might leave you, but the little things you crave and do with yourself won't.

This is you right now, being your usual dramatic self, and it's okay.

Can you do me a favor, Sam? After publishing this, can you go downstairs and get yourself some cold water? And how about another slice of that lemon cake or a chocolate chip cookie? You're going to jog tomorrow anyway, and I hope you fulfill it this time. After that, you may watch more Aquaflask unboxing videos, listen to a comedy podcast and play PUBG Mobile, or catch up with your damn indie playlists! Whatever you prefer. I promise, I won't tell anyone.

With all the love you deserve,

S