I’ve been really tense the past few weeks, which is ironic because I’m not even doing anything remotely strenuous. Well, physically strenuous, anyway. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t sleep because I’m thinking of what I have to do the next day and of course, when the next day comes, I don’t have enough energy to do what I spent the whole night thinking of doing.

Hopeless.

Last Saturday, my professor held class even if it was a holiday. I walked to the Admin building because I wanted to get my salary (I still haven’t gotten it, and I still don’t know how much it is, if you can believe that) but the guard told me everything was closed. Then I realized that it meant I was going to have to go out for lunch and I totally had an anxiety attack. I could hardly sit still because I was straining my brain for directions to go to McDonald’s and back (I don’t know how to go back to Ateneo from Mcdonald’s, thanks to the new U turn scheme. Oo na tanga tanga ko na). If I were with my former blockmates, not knowing the directions would be a valid excuse when it comes to me, but these were new people, I didn’t know how they would take that personal stupidity of mine. Because of that, I spent around half an hour agonizing. No kidding.

Also, I’ve been plenty worried about my parents lately. I have reached the age wherein the reality of leaving them to tend to my own life is just around the corner. What happens to them, then? Don’t get me wrong, I know my parents’ world doesn’t revolve around their children but even then, I wonder what happens to parents when their nests are emptied? We’ve consumed so much of their lives and leaving them, just like that, is a hard reality to face. I am already feeling a sense of loss, even if it hasn’t happened yet. It’s crazy. What happens to parents when they “stop” being parents? What happens to children when they stop “having” parents? I have a feeling that when I move away, I’m going to cry so much harder than my mother, if she even cries at all. We were actually watching Oprah’s Mother’s Day special earlier and she told me, amidst Beyonce and Tina Knowles’ tears, “Nako Mika, don’t be making speeches like that, I’ll kill you. So baduy.” If that’s her definition of baduy, then I’m the baduy-est daughter alive. Doesn’t she know how much I cried at the airport when I only kissed her when I wanted a hug? I was only going to be gone for 2 months but I felt like I was in mourning, it was so … paralyzing, “losing” my mother for that long. It’s pretty bizarre how one minute I feel like running away from her and yet the next minute I feel like crashing into her arms.

I also get pretty worried about my father but I can’t say why, exactly. I’m worried that he might not know how to deal with being just a married couple again. My parents are great parents – I just don’t know how they are with their marriage. I spend a lot of time thinking about that. Too much time, in fact, that my dad told me to lay off their marriage and think of something more productive. I can’t help all these thoughts, though. How I hope they’ll be okay and will always have something to do. How I hope that my parents will always appreciate each other and spend time together, etcetera etcetera.

My brother I’m not worried about – he always manages to make the best life for himself.

How do I stop all this thinking, dammit.