Wilted Plant In My Window

I am listening to this song but I cannot dig the lyrics; I just feel that the melody is caressing my inner being.

It jolted me.

My life has always been ruled by work and work alone. True that there are a lot of "drama" in my kind of job: Clients changing the direction after weeks of endless brainstorming, and with staff being paid overtime pay to complete a project only to be told that "...sorry we changed direction, it will be put on hold..." you cannot do anything, you are a helpless. You do not follow or make your own schedule, the clients dictate it to you, and you cannot haggle, or the next big time agency is ready to take over your place.

You gather your staff and pretended to enjoy bottles of San Mig Light. Vignettes of job orders overshadow the temporary refuge provided by the cold beer, and you are down to reality that you cannot visit the beach and try kayaking. Your calendar is full until December 30.

What the fuck, I have not even planned my birthday bash yet I am helping launch two new businesses. My bed is complaining that we seldom bond, the lone plant in my window has wilted, and no amount of water could resuscitate it, I reluctantly signed its death certificate.

I plan my escape, every Saturday I would thread the blighted roads leading to Mendiola, and the smell of books and the serenity of the abbey would inject new life to my veins-- away from my world.

Ideal. Sincere.

But, I have to leave, the smell of books, and the audience, while they continue to inspire me, are great accoutrements to my life, but I need to replace my plant in my window, and carress my pillows.

I need to breathe.

It's my new reality.