On nights like this.

Photo by lunchboxhero.tumblr.com

On nights like this when you find yourself suddenly sad, thanks to that time of the month when your hormones connive against you, you find yourself on a cab to meet a friend (or shall we say, one of the sisters you really never had) for some late night milk tea and much needed ‘becky’ vibes. When you get there, she asks if you already had dinner. You tell her you don’t eat at night because you’re trying to lose weight. She tells you the last time she checked, eating was a necessity.

With your giant comfort milk teas, you walk to that restaurant you guys frequented when you were in college. But years back you’d grab maybe a drink or two to flush out all the stress you felt when you received what-once-was-an-article-you-passed which eventually became a murder victim (all you see are copyediting signs, red ink, and nothing left of what it originally was). Tonight, you find a quiet spot where you can hear yourself talk –away from those college kids who are trying to drink and smoke the night away. Now, you just stick to their pita pizza and vegetarian pasta. And you both exclaim, “We have grown old.”

Then you talk about work. How some people do not act their age, nor do their job properly –but demand respect they do not deserve. How suddenly you no longer just think about yourselves or passing that Geology class, but of people around you –family, friends, and colleagues. Then you just start talking about anything that comes up –that guy you once dated, the places you want to visit, friends who have settled down, the animal-printed pumps at that posh boutique you can’t afford with your journalist’s salary, the bills you have to pay, your inexistent savings and all things random.

And before you notice it, it’s one in the morning. Tomorrow, or rather, today is another work day so you decide to pack up. The gloomy vibe that encased you earlier had vanished. You say your ‘becky’ farewells and hop on a cab to head home. You then realize how spontaneous and random you and your gelays are. You whisper a little prayer of thanks to that Man above, and to the universe, for this ‘becky’ sister –and for the other ‘becky’ sisters they gave you –who are as random, crazy and spontaneous as you are.

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