I mean, I was doing everything right, no? Staying in bed with comfy pyjamas on, brunch in bed, hair in bun, curtains undrawn, trying out the Bacardi Mojito I got from the airport duty-free store, loving it, munching on my favourite edamame… etc. And of course, I had to snap a picture of my 'good life' and tweeted about it, announcing to all the friends (mostly acquaintances, unfortunately) I have on social media platforms about #whatimdoingnow. Now that's the most important part of it all, isn't it? Updating your social media platforms in case no one knows you're still alive and kicking, even though you know way too well that no one really gives a shit about what you're eating or doing at the moment.
Watched Crazy, Stupid, Love.
For reasons obvious enough... or maybe not.
Halfway through the movie, I got distracted. I got curious, I got hopeful, as if I hadn't already known what the possible outcome was going to be. I picked up the phone and dialled.
"The M1 number you have dialled is not in use. Please check again."
I dialled again, even though I clearly knew it would be the same message.
This is all that I'm getting, after an entire semester of deliberately distracting myself in every way possible just so that I don't focus on the fact that I am, as much as I hate to admit, waiting. A voice message from an automated answering machine was all it took to kill all the tiny hopes I held on to inside of me. That was all it took - the last piece of block in an UNO Stacko removed from the already trembling tower - to make my world crumble. And the funniest part is, I did it all by myself. Self-inflicted, they say.
For fuck's sake.