Thoughts from under a blanket

It’ll pass.” She consoled me. Maybe I’ll live a lifetime of suffocation before that.
What wonders me is the easiness of everything from her part. How she’d hammered the thought so hard into her that an alternative isn’t ever possible.

So, it’s been 7 months. The fifth was okayier than the third, now into the seventh, the bipolarity of the human condition has returned, like a dear friend soothsaid such a return near perfectly. I’d brushed away that line, vehemently then.

I have understood, it’s worth dirt to stick to one’s principles. Why was I a good man? Why did I stay true to her? What was the frigging use? Though, I’m not a person who stubbornly follows every route for a reason. Shove those ideals!

Everything keeps ringing in my heart. Everyplace we sat together, everything we thought together, everytime we got intimate. Life wouldn’t be the same again. Her reason that I’ll survive: I stayed alive before meeting her. There’s a schism of difference between living and surviving.

Even after I know a thousand times over that I shouldn’t dealing with this that way! That I should fucking forget what’s happened: as friends have told me! Die, memories, die!

So, I try to tire myself to sleep today. So, I don’t wake up inbetween and not go to sleep again. So, I fill my day with doing stuff after stuff for the sake of it. I occupy myself with things to do, all day long. I’m pathetic. Yet, I don’t want to lose this way.

Bored you? Yes I did. I get bored under the blanket too. And then, I switch on a random laptop.

Here under my blanket I lie...
I think I'll just stay here for awhile
In this safe place, where I can smile.