I Broke Up with Reality on a Tuesday

I woke up late again. Technically, it was already Monday afternoon when I opened my eyes, but I told myself it was “morning” because I haven't ate breakfast yet. That’s how I keep time now, by the way... By meals and not clocks. I used to have alarms screaming at me at 6 a.m., but I realized there was no point in getting up that early and joining the race to nowhere. It's been five years since I got my degree in Business Administration, which, as it turns out, means I am “qualified” to format powerpoints and smile during interviews that never call back. My mother still introduces me to her friends as “my son who’s taking a break.” I think she’s been saying that since Duterte was still the President. The dread that follows Mondays used to give those days meaning. Now, they’re just days that politely remind me I’ve wasted another week. I frequently scroll through job ads with enthusiasm so fake I should get paid for it. “Entry-level position. Three years of experience required.” That line alone has aged me more than the pandemic did. Ah, but yes, that pandemic... That cosmic joke that turned the whole country into one long extension of resignation turned depravity. I was actually supposed to start my first job in 2020, a marketing assistant position in Ortigas. Then I recieved an email the day before my supposed first day: “We’re suspending operations indefinitely due to COVID.” Coincidentally, indefinitely turned out to mean “forever,” because the company vanished faster than my sense of direction in life. So, I stayed home. Everyone did. I mean, at first, it was really nice.I could play valorant all day. There was no traffic, and no more pretending to be productive. But it gets old after a while. Your thoughts get the better of you. Telling you to bake bread. Then to learn crypto. Then to trade crypto. Then to stop trading crypto. That's how I learned to ignore my supposedly genius ideas. I lost half my savings faster than I could say “HODL.” My only friend during that time were my delusions. Then my friends all moved on. Some went abroad. Some got married. Some sold dresses and umbrellas online. But I stayed. Like some background character in a niche movie. Still, on Mondays, I pretend to be busy. I often open Excel and fill it with random numbers so it looks like I’m working on something important in case my mom walks by. Tuesdays though feel alot more heavy. It's when I usually sit on the balcony with my third cup of instant coffee trying to negotiate with reality like it’s a facebook marketplace seller. Reality and I used to have something really special. We were once amazing. In fact I finished my grade school and high school with top notch marks. Now it’s just unreasonability you can't ever define. So this Tuesday, I finally decided to end things. I told reality: “It’s not you, it’s just capitalism.” Then I microwaved my leftover adobo, scrolled through memes, and then realized... I pretty much procrastinated death.