Staring at the phone

My vagina is about to fall off. And it's not falling off without a fight. Which probably accounts to why I woke up scowling at the ceiling and will probably go to bed snarling at my pillow. I am glaring at everything and everyone. No one is safe.

This morning, while I grumbled sa bathroom:
John Vincent: Ate, bakit yung mga senators --
Me: *growl* Can you please not interview me while I'm in the bathroom? Thank you.

Lunchtime.
Gabriel Joshua : Electric fan, buksan mo.
Me: Ayoko.
Gabriel Joshua: Mas malapit ka.
Me: *screams* Mas mukha kang tagabukas ng electric fan kaysa sa'kin, kaya IKAW magbukas.

Afternoon.
Gabriel Joshua: Saan ko 'to ilalagay?
Me: *tiny, keening scream* Sa dulo ng mundo. Sama mo na rin sarili mo, puwede?

Kanina lang.
Me: Okay, family, I'm a Martinez. And I'm on my period. Which means all hell will break loose any time now. Galit ako sa mundo. (To the boys) At kung hindi pa tayo aalis ngayon, mangangagat ako! I am NOT kidding, people. Move, move, MOVE.

And then I find out that the boys have been snooping around my stuff. JesusChristOnWheels, ano ba. I guess this is the consequence of sharing a room with three of the species, one of them a precocious little kid who likes to tell me to kiss his ass; the other, a looming bugger who thinks he's now got an authority on me just because he's suddenly taller than me; the other-other, the perpetually-eighteen uncle. (May kabilang bahay naman eh, dun na kayo. Grr.)

Which means they've regressed to reading my diary, pasting my girly things on the walls, and using my coloring pens to draw mindless tagging stuff whatevers on cabinet doors (GROW UP, PEOPLE). And that they've found my cigarettes which have ALL gone stale (gah) because I haven't smoked since school let out and my perpetually-eighteen uncle said, "Lagot ka sa daddy mo," while lighting one not-so-stale-pala cigarette with my purple lighter.

And I can't unleash my fury. Because someone else's looms. Because frankly, although my father hasn't raised his voice in me in sooo sooo long, he is still my father. An easily-hurt, easily-disappointed, guilt-tripping, the-wrath-of-three-nations father.

Punyetang malagkeeeeht.

*

Although my body was acting up again -- back, mini-migraine, mangoes-in-tummy, sleeplessness -- not to mention my hairtrigger modd swings nowadays, I trudged off to the ordered chaos that is the town's general merchandise store thing.

I spelunked for any semblance of civilization. I looked for BreadPan (yung green). Wala. I looked for Hello (yung blue). Wala. I looked for Sola. Wala. Putehk, nakakapansin na ko ha.

I looked for DutchMill (yung strawberry-flavored). Then, slow horror. WALA.

Pauwiin niyo na ko, sige na. I might just possibly go crazy. I want to burrow into a corner and hide. I miss my family, love them to tears, but you can only take on so much madness, unrelated to your craft. Dang, I'm such a mess of emotions right now, I want to cry and throw things and eat a fucking mango.

This too shall pass. Calm yourself, Sasha dear, ride this out.

Yun.