“You don’t look Filipino!” A man once told me in shock, but I assure him that I was born and bred as a Filipino. So, I ask him: “What do I look like, sir?”
I have this idea for a story but I’m not sure if I should pursue it considering it’s borderline cliche and probably has been written before. I only have a few things laid out and I want to map it out some more, just in case I do end up with nothing to do on…
I did everything in my capability to stay awake: Pester My Coworkers With A Barage Of Questions.
At 12 noon I had my next dose of caffeine. It had me going until around 3pm that was when I had to take another watered down cup of coffee (gross but beggars can’t be picky).
What’s so great about anxiety? Why is it so easy to claim that one has it? Why does anxiety even exist? Why can’t people just calm the fuck down and stop being so bloody anxious all the time? The answers to these questions that I will give are all negative. Nothing is great about anxiety….