Swallowing the Air

When in pain, I swallow.

Most times, I swallow food or water. But times like this, I can just swallow the air. Trigger moments for remembering my parents are getting fewer now. But everytime it comes, it's still as intense as ever. Just a while ago, upon seeing cocktail hotdogs, I was reminded of how Mummy put them on toothpicks and pin them on a cabbage covered with aluminum foil during parties. That hurt. Now, I can write down hotdogs as another thing that hurts me. Ha. Right alongside with throw pillows and the scent of burning grass and the sound of rain. It's becoming less and less of an exclusive list, I tell you.

Oh dear God. Swallow.Swallow.Swallow.


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I went to the doctor today and I was told that I sprained my back. Yahoo, liv.

Welcome to the geriatric ward of Life. Bad news: there's only one way outta here and you either go to heaven or hell afterwards. Good news: you're the youngest old person in the room.

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In the jeepney, I saw a kid who uncannily looked like me when I was four or five years old, except that he's a boy. So I'm not sure which is which: does he look like a girl or did I look like a boy?

Anyhow, I'm glad to know that God's making new people using the same mold with just a few modifications once in a while. That kid could've been my twin brother if I was 4 again. Or... he could be my child.

Awwwww..... I want to have a baby boy! He had the most adorable puckered lips and long-lashed wide eyes. I want that baby boy! Argh.

Hay, livia. itulog mo lang yan. Sabi ng doctor, rest your back for 2 days. Sige, hala, simulan mo na!

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