I wasn’t meant to write today, but I woke up before 7 AM, already thinking about writing and reading. Maybe I should stop watching writertoks and booktoks before I go to bed. It is after all important to keep a good sleep hygiene.
Nonetheless, I felt more or less inspired to get the day started before I had a quick phone interview for a job. The quest continues to find a good job where I can still write on the side.
For today’s writing, I’m still working on the vignette collection. There’s this piece that’s much longer than I originally expected. I remember writing a couple years ago. It was more so about not letting others define your life path or this desire to question the normal milestones of life: marriage, family, et cetera. There’s still elements of that in the current story (currently titled, Questions of Romance and I definitely need to change that), but I think it ties more closely to how exhaustion and caring for other people are inextricably linked.
Verrrryy interesting. I also like the male character, Tiago, a lot more. Originally, he came off as dismissive, but now, he’s a little bit kinder and introspective. I think we need more male characters like that.
I had to take out a paragraph or so that didn’t quite fit into the theme that I was slowly defining. I thought that I’d include a few snippets here. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to repurpose it at one point for something else.
In front of me, Tiago stood akimbo to the cityscape below, as if aiming to conquer the challenge that it had set before him. He hadn’t noticed my comment from earlier, completely enraptured by the sight, inhaling it all. I let him have his moment, until he turned to me, his eyes brightened.
“Look at this,” he said, gesturing to the city. “I can see everything from here.”
I eyed him, almost warily. “The full scope,” I said.
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
I didn’t say anything. For a moment, I allowed myself to see what he saw. Tiny dots of figures trailed the city’s grid, marching in line on the sidewalks. Cars flowed through streets in rehearsed waves. From above, I could see the probability of the city, the mere statistics of where everything was supposed to be. I knew Tiago loved these hikes for this very reason, so he could see the wide expanse of it all. For me, these hikes away from the city were a means to put as much distance as possible between the city and me.
Sooner or later, the hardwire of the city would kill me. Even then, I understood that it was crushing my windpipe. I thought the city would be exciting, every day might be different, yet I found myself walking to the same deli every day, ordering the same turkey sandwich, hold the mayo. I used to be somebody with curiosity, but at work, I couldn’t bring myself to ask my coworkers anything more than their weekend plans. I had somehow been giving a script that I’d never bother to question. One day the script would become nature. Imbedded into my skin.
I didn’t want to think about it. It hurt too much to think about the parts of myself I had lost. Instead, I walked over to the picnic table area and sat down, cradling my head in my hands.
Tiago must have broken out of his reverie, because after a moment, he called out to me in concern.
“Isla, what’s wrong?” He asked, standing above me.
“Just a little lightheaded,” I muttered.
“Here—” he reached behind me and plucked out my water canister from my backpack’s pocket.
He popped open the top and handed me the bottle, which I gratefully accepted. I drank deeply and messily, the water dribbling down my chin, until the bottle was empty.
I wiped my chin anxiously. “Uh-oh.”
Tiago laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, sitting next to me. “Always bring more water than what you need. Do you feel better though?”
He dug into his backpack until his hand produced a bag of trail mix, which he also offered to me.
“You need sugar.”
“You were saying something about dating?” Tiago prompted.