Screw this.

It's 7:52. Plans of going home=nil. The whirr of the aircon. Alone again in a two-room office. The hard rain that just died down. Noises from vehicles. The semi-bitter after taste of orange juice. Christmas lights from the department store up front visible from the slits of the window sills. Picture frames in front of me that should convey meaning, but don't. The music player that stopped playing my self-professed favorite person of the year. I want to shrink or implode and let the universe just forget about me. Dammit. Fuck this spontaneity. Fucking overrated.