The collapse I had last Sunday was probably the worst one I had yet. It wasn't the first time either that I collapsed from weakness. 

I had to go out and buy bananas for the bird because it hadn't eaten for some days, too. It's about a one kilometer walk to the main road. I hadn't even gone a third of the way and I was already feeling weak. Duh. But force myself I have to. And paced myself. That's my fear nowadays that I'll fall down whenever I have to go out. It's turning me agoraphobic, too. 

I also bought some bread because I had change left over. What change? It's all I can afford! I had that with the tiny bit of Nutella I have left. 

I really think my stomach has shrunk to the size of a pea. Even if I have that small piece of bread, immediately I feel relieved but soon afterwards I feel sick like I can't have anymore. 

And basically that's what happened. I had three pieces of bread and felt nauseous. My stomach was in knots. At the same time I felt that blood was rushing to my head and ears, yet my color was draining out of me. By now I know what it is a symptom of. So I tried to get to my bed because I didn't want to fall down and wake up beside the toilet. 

Oddly, I was still conscious of what was happening to me. The most notable being all the voices in my head had stopped talking and I could just hear myself breathing. I admit I was kinda scared also of completely losing consciousness because what if I didn't manage to regain it again. 

But tenacious I am. I don't know if I should consider this “strength” as a blessing or a curse. 

I just feel sad and lonely that these awful things happen to me and it's like I can't turn to anyone because it's like they don't really care what happens to me because I'm shit anyway. 

I am in the perfect position to kill myself. 

How many days, weeks, months, years will it take until people discover my body. 

And they wonder why I am so bitter and angry. 

Scrambled egg with kamatis or ampalaya. 

Miswa with pipino or meatballs. 

Ginisang hotdog with ketchup and onions. 

I cut my finger earlier tonight while opening a can of sardines for the cats. I was absolutely shocked at my idiocy, duh. Maybe it was also the fear it could be a deeper wound that I felt the blood literally drain from my face and I could feel myself turning pale. Like uh-oh, I know what this is a precursor to. I did lie down and put my feet up so that helped a lot and I didn't faint this time. Except I still got really sleepy. In fact, I just woke up from that nap. I still feel a bit groggy. I did manage to bandage my finger before collapsing. I didn't get to feed the cats, though. 

It's ridiculous how I allow myself to eat only if I get to accomplish something during the day. Moronic, really, considering you need the energy to be able to move in the first place. 

One of my biggest faults is the expectation that ppl will give a shit about what I do. But of course, why should they when I'm just da fucking maid, right.

Invisible unless you want something done.

And that is why is a constant struggle for me to be “nice.” 

No good deed goes unpunished.