As defined by the dictionary of obscure sorrows; exulansis is “the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.” Exulansis is me finding reason in letting thoughts loose, never checking how they’re arranged, puzzling equations grasped together and intertwined; my mind is racing, never appeased and a constant. All is as it is.
You can tell that a restaurant has done a lot of things right when you constantly crave the meal you had days after its passing. I’ve always been the type of person to skip out on desserts but after a post-school (and a shortened day at that) pre-no class day escapade at a Japanese restaurant, there was an urgent need to follow it up with more snacks. My Tuesday concluded with a meal at Sushi Ninja, running through the drizzling rain to Alabang Town Center, roaming around for a bit and settling to eat at Milkbox afterwards for dessert and aftermeal conversations.
I am so lost, so busy — and perpetually tired. In today’s English class, we were tasked to write for half of the period – a letter to ourselves, ten years in the future. Not on pen and paper, no blue-and-red striped envelopes or lines and grids to guide me by. It was going to be through an email, using a website that seemed to date from the early beginnings of the internet; no guarantee of it even reaching me in ten years time, or if I would still be using the same email address, moreover if I would actually still be alive.