Tick-Tock

I feel like a ticking timebomb on countdown, filled to the brim with frustration, just anxiously awaiting and fearing my own explosion.

My chest feels cramped, as though invisible Schwarzenegger arms are squeezing the blood out of my heart, draining my lifeline.

I'm trying so hard to cope. I take deep, slow breaths from the bottom of my lungs, drawing from the bottom of my lungs, hoping this can calm down the almost-irrational fear that's building in me.

I feel like a racecar driver, speeding down the highway past blurred trees, streetlights and buildings and suddenly realizing, the brakes don't work.

Sadistic Pest-Hunting

I have a secret to confess.

My guiltiest pleasure, dessert indulgences aside, is lashing out my inhumane sadistic tendencies towards pests.

I find immense pleasure in watching a mosquito sizzle, spark and crackle on my 120-peso electronic hand-swatter. I find it so gratifying that I have considered making 'pest-hunting' an official hobby. I could spend hours and hours just chasing and swishing after flying nuisances and barbecuing them to death. It’s like getting hooked onto little spurts of Adrenaline rush.

My mom says it’s a waste of time, but I say it could be a potential workout regimen. What with all the arm-swinging and running, it could very well make up for the thousand hours of cardio I need to make up for since I have long been M.I.A. from the gym.

Plus, I figured pest-hunting might be a good outlet for my much-repressed sadistic alter ego to practice methods of torture and express all the violence it wishes to lash out onto the world. After all, we'd all prefer the massacre of winged bloodsuckers than have my alter ego take over and go out the world to start jolting everyone with this battery-operated, China-made weapon of mass aggravation, right?