The RANTS of a BUSTED BULB

This Weather

I’m wrapped up in a blanket. I have my imaginary cup of hot cocoa. Life is good.

But to be honest, it’s such a gloomy way to start the day. This is the type of weather you’d expect on a day you don’t have classes. Later when I’m all dressed up and ready to go, I’ll be dreading walking through all the rain.

But for now, I won’t mind. I love this weather.

People call it momol weather. Make out-make out lang. I honestly find those people shallow. It’s such a beautiful feeling, this kind of weather. Why reduce it to the senselessness of just making out? There’s an intimacy in the air that gets lost in just making out.

I’d prefer to cuddle in the warmth. Or maybe hold hands. Or maybe just watch each other from across the room. Watch every detail. Communicating without words. Yeah. #asifiwereinarelationship

Whatever with that. For me, this is the perfect kind of weather to listen to those sad songs and not feel guilty about them. In some way, I have my excuse. And in the irony of it all, it makes me feel good, feel happy.

There are moments I’d lie down on my bed—music still playing—and I’d start thinking, dreaming. I’m awake, but I’m not here. I’ve transcended here. In that sad sort of way, I’m happy. I’d say this weather is the perfect stimulus for that feeling.

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I’m contemplating blogging about this certain subject. It’s quite personal—not that I’ve shied away from that. It’s different, I guess.