Rock. Me. Hard place.

Caught in the middle and nowhere to go.

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I feel so inefficient these past few days. I've been working so slow even though the threat of a deadline is looming over my head. I even brought home some work with me for the long weekend, but the only thing I did was to unzip the files, check some of the codes, and that's it. It took me less than 30 minutes. Pathetic. (Ang lakas talaga ng loob ko -- one of my bosses can be reading this right now :P)

It's so hard to wake up early in the morning. I usually set my alarm to 5 in the morning, but I get up from the bed around 5:30. Then, instead of taking a bath after drinking my coffee, I sit in front of the PC and surf. Whaddafuck? Instead of leaving at the idealistic time of 6:30am [to be able to get to the office waaaay before 8], that's the only time I take a bath. I know in my mind and heart and body that I have to be in the office before 8, but I still let myself be lazy. Aaargh.

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He didn't even ask for the other side of the story. More than likely, the story he heard (or was told) was already an exaggerated version of an already highly convoluted conversation. For him, that version was enough for him to make his judgement.

What else can one say? There really is no fighting the mother's side of the story.

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It's so hard being a secret-keeper.

Remembering who has what secret.

Keeping track of other people who knows the secret.

Of the person who knows that some other persons know of the secret.

And if the one who told me the secret knows if I divulged it already to somebody else.

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive

So true.

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Living in somebody else's house can really take a toll on you.

You're stuck in one room in the house. You feel like you always have to ask permission to use something even if you've been living there for almost four years already. Everybody can enter your room, but you'd feel dyahe entering theirs. They can have an opinion of you, but you can't have an opinion of them. They can get mad at each other, but you can't get mad at them. They can talk back to each other, but I can't talk back at them.

And then, the reason why you lived in that house in the first place, just brushes you off. I feel like I am an extremely obese person stranded in an island full of cannibals.

Well, you know what they say about house guests: like fish, they stink after three days.

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Rock. Me. Hard place.

A very uncomfortable position, I tell you.