There are very hot days (like today) when you wake up from a nap on the couch, alone and sweaty. Alone because everyone left the house, and sweaty because the heat has been so fuckingly unbearable and the still, warm air transforms and coalesces into a pool of sweat in clavicles.
And in the moment of frustration, thanks to the loneliness and the eternal stickiness on your skin, you eat the cold, leftover noodles from this morning wondering why you gave up the chance to be asleep in an air-conditioned room in someone’s arms.
Hot days give me a headache that blitzes through my skull each time I try to move, and the warmness sets off my restlessness and unhappiness like nothing else other. But I figure summertime is my personal hell, and I wish it would rain all the time. All the bloody time.
There’s a fine line between loneliness and solitude as I’ve figured out painfully over wasted years. And I wish I didn’t delude myself into insisting that amidst the slow crawl of a Sunday afternoon, that what I was feeling was indeed solitude. Because solitude meant productivity, and I haven’t done anything productive in years. But why is it like this? Why?
As I sat staring into an empty pot that was once filled with soggy noodles and limp vegetables, I realise how I lost control of time and discipline. The heat always makes me lose control and ups my irritation. Before I knew it, I finished old noodles that were meant for two and I had all the evidence on my shirt. I wish I gave a fuck about what I eat and my wrecked relationship with food. But as with life, I have better things to give a fuck about (i.e. nothing).
I also realise that the side of my lips were now bleeding because I keep biting into the same wounded spot as I eat too quickly. Yes, the wound is my fault, but it really can’t be helped - that area always gets in the way. After a while, it’s just become an annoyance. I’m okay. It’s okay. I even throw the pot and cutlery into the sink so I can wash it later.
It was a tearful, useless weekend, and I had done zero work even though I willed myself too. But like the cyclical nature of weather, the hot, frustrating days will pass. Right? Right?