And I'm so used to being a coward, it's all I've ever been. I quit before I win.
This week's been melodramatic; silent afternoons spent slouching on the coach wondering why the world spins round and why Jack and Sally were meant to be, the trauma of being untraumatized and the fear of being fearless, hiding underneath the blanket make-believing it'll be as brick-hard as steel armour, being allergic to the world, solo trips to the library to kope aircon I mean grab a couple of books for enlightenment, and stuff.
Can I go back to June 2010 and be that weakling just for tonight? It's so exhausting being... this June 2011 me. This snowball of self-abhorrence started out palm-sized, but these days, it's been rolling down this endless white-coated field at its highest peak of speed; it keeps growing and growing and growing uncontrollably. How deep-seated can it get?
I was hoping you'd stay, but my hopes were clearly set too high.
This reluctance is killing me, but I'm loosening my grip, bit by bit.
Thank you, K & B, for saving my ass; literally. I owe you both three lifetimes.
Side-tracking, the results for my free spine check proved negative. Apparently, I have extremely severe neck tensions, especially on the left, but I feel no shit. You should've seen my result sheet. The printed red bars portray so much... deadliness.
& To end this post, the internet is such a motherfucking son of a bitch. It loads slower than my great-grandmother walking from the bedroom to the kitchen.
No comments:
Post a Comment