nought
Maybe I've been living in a daydream
Maybe I've been talking in my sleep
If I've been awake
Pardon my mistake
But time is running low
And talk is growing cheap.
The night is depressing, and every night seems to get worse. Well fine, not depressing, just cold, empty and utterly void. Nothing to do with the silence (nothing to do with the air-conditioning for that matter). I hate this hollowness. I hate it because I actually am happy. Not some euphoric giggly high: a calm, warm, gentle happiness.
Perhaps it's the limbo that's getting to me, or the fact that this shouldn't be in a limbo.
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Today a Mynah tried to pick a fight with me. Twice. I declined. Or maybe it was trying to strike up a conversation. I doubt we reached an understanding in the end. This is not a metaphor.