Posted by: nastypen | February 15, 2007

Hyperacidic Valentines

Well, for the first time in my life, I was struck with hyperacidity. On V-Day nonetheless! I was stuck on the bed for the entire day. I was reading, drawing my strips while Onyx the labrador jumped on the bed and gnawed at my arms. I was so weak to fend the little bitch’s teeth off. She sensed I was sick and she started licking my hands and fell asleep next to me.

It was not a great day. My stomach felt like this:

NOOOOOOOOOOO

For a while there, I thought I’d have that John Hurt scene with the alien baby busting from my gut in Ridley Scott‘s Alien. It was that painful. I couldn’t even drink water. I was crouching on the bed and the bathroom became my primary location.

I thought I was dying and my life was flashing before my eyes. I should have painted, done more artworks instead I was a cubicle-dweller! What of my books? Is there a coffin big enough for me? Nothing brings me closer to mortality than affliction.

Some Valentine’s. Well, I thanked God for small mercies. I didn’t have to commute to see all these people googly-eyed and sniggering as they send out text messages to their loved ones. I didn’t see any red his-and-hers ensembles. I was blissfully in pain and disconected from this consumerist excuse for f*cking.

Even the boyfriend was pained to see me as a crumpled huge mass of mess on the bed. Not even a slice of mocha cake made it better. He suggested that I take this medicine because he knows the symptoms and he says it is stress-related.

Stress-related. Funny. Just the other night, I had a pre-Valentine’s dinner with the boyfriend and fanatical teacher. We gabbed the night away. But Fanatical teacher is not one to mince his words. When he saw me, “My goodness! In all the time I have known you, you never looked so stressed and tired!” I asked if I looked battered. He said, “Worse.” He gave me that “What has happened to you” look all night.

Friends say it’s ok because I’m leaving my job soon. Today is my last day, by the way and I am wearing red for good luck. I got all these instant messages and text messages cingratulating me on my freedom. Some freedom, I thought, when my first day could land me in the freaking hospital because of this affliction. Thankfully, it has weakened. But I still feel rumblings and tugs here and there.

The boyfriend was correct in saying, “Your body is just reacting to the changes. You’re thinking too much. Just relax.” My body is saying “Why are you still going to work!? It’s v-time….no not Valentine’s (I don’t celebrate idiocy, which is love relegated to consumer acts)….but VACATION! Man, this time tomorrow, I’ll be on the bed snoring till 11am. Ok, maybe not, because my body clock is still wired to the 5:30am schedule. But who knows? Just as long as the neighbors do not practice their dirge karaoke or play guitar, I’ll be sleeping like a baby drunk on Rohypnol.

The secretary at work just commented why am I getting all stressed out when I shall have less pressure starting tomorrow. Perhaps it is my body’s sheer impatience that I get off the cubicle and start relaxing. Hey, from a relatively pressured life for the past eight years then an unshackled one can just throw my body in a fit, no?

So, I have less than eight hours before I become unemployed.  I hope my stomach is much better by then.

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