Therapeutic blogging.
Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I blog. It helps to ease my mind, leaving it empty and clear, new. Right now, I’m thinking of my exam tomorrow morning (which I have yet to revise for). Nevermind that. I’m thinking about how my life will never be the same again. How I see things, how I feel, how I’ll never ..
And I just wish that I could start again.
Because I’m starting to see things. Hear things. See him, hear him, smell him. All the memories crowd in, weigh me down, become melodramatic, overblown, epic-tastic.
Leave it all behind. Leave it all behind. Head for the Windward Islands. Where nobody’d know who I was, who I am. He’d be just another wave rolling out to infinity. We’re just like sand. So many. Innumerable. He’d be nothing to me. I’d be nothing to anyone.
I won’t even pack.
I’m rotting here. And I’m doing nothing to lift myself out of this dingy grave.
To sleep like how I did before. Just close my eyes and drift to bliss and beyond. To have that sort of sleep again.
But I’ll get by, by the by. I’ll be alright. I’m the fuckin’ rock of gibraltar, after all. And when the shit really stinks, there’s always the smile to hide behind.
I can’t help being cryptic here. Some things you just gotta figure them out.
