I feel like one of those old, sick, dying book characters tormented writers write about.
I got the old feel in the pockets. My environment, it seems to me, is antique. Some of my "friends" have faded into the background of an old 50's movie that will presumably be forgettable. My previous "passions" (can't believe I just used the word in plural form) have dissolved into a new (old, actually) kind of impasse...one that I can't explain thoroughly because I don't understand much either. I feel like I just lived and excruciatingly survived 9 lifetimes.
And my birthday is fast-approaching.
So yeah, I feel old.
I am a human disease stick. My life energy is currently getting sucked up by random whirlpools that come in the forms of "friends", enemies and ... internal factors (like too much anxiety, paranoia and hypochondria). Literally, I AM a human disease stick. Today's just 4 days since my high fever bid adieu to my body...and I've already relapsed. Right now, I'm coughing. My throat feels as if a meter stick of a rose with bloody thorns had stuck to it. And there's an overall feeling of dizziness. Alas, my vertigo attacks!
And I feel like...puking which is as rare as Mowgli's syndrome. (Mowgli's syndrome is rare, right?)
So yeah, I feel sick.
I define life as an equilibrium of...things. Now that my social life has gone off the hook, I'm dead. Or at least, part of me is dead. Or maybe dying. Truth is, I don't really know. I've got heaps of problems again. I vow to anticipate the first few weeks of January from now on. Something tragic always happens weeks before my birthday. The weighing scales of my life have either burst because of obesity or anorexia. I know, I know. I could get sued for my choice of words. But getting sued is actually better than facing drama that my "friends" have bequeathed me (let's just substitute the word "bequeathed" with the word "BETRAYED" - all caps) with. How big of a fool am I, anyway? I've had let these "friends" betray me before and I've done so AGAIN. I should be awarded for this!
And this is the part where I hate them all for being so defensive for something wrong they did. They should be condemned for doing this to me. I should be hanged for being the most used person in the planet.
So yeah, I feel like I'm dying.
I always tell people: "I have a life!" ...which translates to: My life is near bliss because it's packed with a social life, a family life, a spiritual life, a career (life), a whatever life... you name it, I'm too old, sick, and dying to type.
...but I guess, sometimes, it's actually a plus to not have a life.
Still...
I HAVE A LIFE!
I got the old feel in the pockets. My environment, it seems to me, is antique. Some of my "friends" have faded into the background of an old 50's movie that will presumably be forgettable. My previous "passions" (can't believe I just used the word in plural form) have dissolved into a new (old, actually) kind of impasse...one that I can't explain thoroughly because I don't understand much either. I feel like I just lived and excruciatingly survived 9 lifetimes.
And my birthday is fast-approaching.
So yeah, I feel old.
I am a human disease stick. My life energy is currently getting sucked up by random whirlpools that come in the forms of "friends", enemies and ... internal factors (like too much anxiety, paranoia and hypochondria). Literally, I AM a human disease stick. Today's just 4 days since my high fever bid adieu to my body...and I've already relapsed. Right now, I'm coughing. My throat feels as if a meter stick of a rose with bloody thorns had stuck to it. And there's an overall feeling of dizziness. Alas, my vertigo attacks!
And I feel like...puking which is as rare as Mowgli's syndrome. (Mowgli's syndrome is rare, right?)
So yeah, I feel sick.
I define life as an equilibrium of...things. Now that my social life has gone off the hook, I'm dead. Or at least, part of me is dead. Or maybe dying. Truth is, I don't really know. I've got heaps of problems again. I vow to anticipate the first few weeks of January from now on. Something tragic always happens weeks before my birthday. The weighing scales of my life have either burst because of obesity or anorexia. I know, I know. I could get sued for my choice of words. But getting sued is actually better than facing drama that my "friends" have bequeathed me (let's just substitute the word "bequeathed" with the word "BETRAYED" - all caps) with. How big of a fool am I, anyway? I've had let these "friends" betray me before and I've done so AGAIN. I should be awarded for this!
And this is the part where I hate them all for being so defensive for something wrong they did. They should be condemned for doing this to me. I should be hanged for being the most used person in the planet.
So yeah, I feel like I'm dying.
I always tell people: "I have a life!" ...which translates to: My life is near bliss because it's packed with a social life, a family life, a spiritual life, a career (life), a whatever life... you name it, I'm too old, sick, and dying to type.
...but I guess, sometimes, it's actually a plus to not have a life.
Still...
I HAVE A LIFE!
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