The Flight of the Rocketman

In my life I have found that all prayers are answered. And the answer is usually "no." -- as texted to me by my father

I am sick again. Third time this year. My body is truly deteriorating. I used to be the guy who would get sick only once a year. Now, this is my third time to get sick in one year alone and the year isn't even over yet. Welcome to the human race, Wanggo. At least I am still a fast healer.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that I am living alone? I mean, after all, without the comforts of home and without the constant affection and love from my dear Yaya Ope (my Mom's cook) and Yaya Nellie (my Mom's laundry woman) and the incessesant-bordering-on-annoying love of my brother Datu, I may have become weaker. It might be possible that without those particular influences in my life, my body is running on less fuel.

Is love really that powerful? Without their constant care and tenderness, my body has become more prone to sickness and exhaustion? I have always been a hard worker (or so I would like to believe) but because they are not there to pamper me and to watch out for me, my body breaks down a little more often.

But then again, my friends have sorta-kinda taken their place. Constant text messages wondering if I am okay and asking if I'm good has replaced the watching over of the two beautiful ladies and my brother. But then again, they are not always physically present as Yaya Ope, Yaya Nellie and my brother have been when I lived with my Mom.

Maybe there is something to that. I must dig deeper into it.

Once again, more and more projects seem to loom over in the horizon. Busy, busy, busy me. It is something that never seems to stray. I'm most glad for it. It is something I had never seemed to ask for. My work has always been there for me through thick and thin.

Ah! But once again, the boring, hackneyed and over-used (and tired) subject of love is what I will be talking about here. For as much as I never seem to have a need to ask for work I seem to constantly need to ask for love.

I am in the process of waiting. Waiting. Waiting is very tiring. There are days when I just want to give up and forget it ever happened. The one week when everything was wonderful and magickal. I want to erase it from my mind. And then, there are days when I just hope that everything will be okay with that person and that that person will send the love I am waiting for back to me. At least, I have stopped asking the stupid questions. But the next set of questions: "When? When? When?" I cannot stop from asking.

When? Are we not allowed to feel complete? *sigh*

At least I have my work...