
As any vacation goes, the distraction can be more overwhelming than relaxing. The moment you step on that plane, your brain kicks into high gear and takes you on an overdrive. Would you believe me if I say I've been waking up at exactly 6:30 A.M. everyday? Me, Ms. I-need-more-sleep wakes up at 6:30 A.M.
To be honest, I've been preoccupied by the silliest of thoughts. I had the thought that everything will be peculiar to me, when I come back: the sights and the sounds, the air and its lack of freshness. That people would be too busy with their lives, their work, and their family to spend an hour with me. I thought I wouldn’t be able to go around on my own, since I wouldn’t know where to get off and where to catch a ride. I thought the rains would keep me inside, considering it floods really easily where I'm staying. I thought I'd be able to write five hours a day, since I'll be seeing people more after they get off from work. I thought I would be able to exercise everyday, since I wouldn't be cramming for time. I thought...I thought wrong.
True, there has been a lot of changes. But, I got the same home I left five years ago. The traffic is still as horrendous as it was before. I was expecting it to be worse than I remember, from all the complaining I've been hearing. But really, it's the same. In fact, in my opinion, it's a bit better, because now there's Uber. Back in 2010, waiting for cabs in the middle of rain was like a level of hell where sinners are tortured by poking their patience, sparking frustration, and keeping them soaking wet.

I still find it strange, after five years, it still feels the same life I left. Like my life was put on pause. Though the world did not freeze, the feelings were preserved in mint condition. Strange, but not surreal. And it feels right.
But it's not real. It really is much more of a fantasy. My fantasy. Because in a week, I'll have to go back to a place I refuse to call home. And go back to the grind, regulate my depression and wallow in self-pity.
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