As I was heading for home one evening, a disheartening albeit unfamiliar feeling overwhelmed me. I wracked my brains out in search of an answer, for this had never happened to me.I stopped from my hike and looked up. Yes, I recognized it finally. The village’s lampposts abloom with Christmas décor. It's ... (sing with me) It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!
Na-ah. It’s … it’s … it’s this homesickness thing again! Urgh!
Earlier that day, I was in my usual frenetic self. Waking up, dodging traffic, inciting office wars, coffee, coffee, coffee, yosi, yosi, yosi, scream, get frustrated, tad bit of alcohol, wham, bam, alakazam! And the series starts all over again when the sun floats back up the following day.
Two words to describe my everyday existence in the metro: same-old.
I checked my phone for the calendar, November 21st, and there I bumped into a realization – two days ago last year, I planted the star on top of the family tree.
Being the prodigal son, I have been given the honor (?) of my family of installing that precious star for ten years (ten Christmases) now. And this the first instance that I wouldn't be able to carry out my duty as the “star trooper."
The realization produced a sinking feeling that made me want to purchase tickets for home and back. However that’s close to being impossible. Well, unless I want to get fired and whore myself for a living.
I quickly ran towards my building and hurriedly get dressed. I didn’t know why or where to go but I figured I don’t want to get stuck alone. I have to surround myself with people to, hopefully, get my mind off this melancholia.
(to be concluded…)
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