So this is what I do; write.
At times that you need to do something for work, being a sentimental fool intrudes and destroys the quiet time you intended for shitty serious matters. Yes, as serious as life and death. Ugh.
I know I should not include personal shits to work, but I can’t “not”. The feelings are so overpowering that it leaves me paralyzed. They run deeply like I am drowning with words but dumbfounded. I feel them running into me like gas poured into something with lighted matches thrown onto it. Yes. Now go tell me how it feels like.
Maybe I’m just too in love with certain people. Sure. I love people, but yes, some, not all of them. I love them even if life and some scenarios in it require me to “UN” love them. Sure, I get hurt for no reason at all and I guess it’s my fuckin’ choice; a conundrum that I have to bear.
This is what I do. I give you confusions and sparse thinking. Pardon me for this. I just can’t go beyond my restrictions and tell you every bit and pieces and the roots of all these. Yes, restrictions. I’ve been battling against it for quite a long time now. Sorry? Yes, you my reader deserves that.