i would rather be horizontal
easing back into the world once teeming with life and familiarity proves to pour rushes of warmth around me. like how the scents of certain ones close to me wraps around like a fluffy duvet, coveting me with assurance. i like it here, where things are closer to reality and less of a dream. things revolve around a routine, the urge to bridge deeper relations are unrestrained by the nudging fear that these ties are only transient. because i know at the end of the day they are the ones i'd be coming home to.
if i had the gift of the gab i wouldn't be translating how i feel into a façade of literary rantings. even so i am not equipped with the essential vocabulary to intrinsically encapsulate how the emotional cesspool whirring inside of me.
i crumble under the invisible pressure of having the ability to crush people's desires.
its not a choice i have made but the circumstances which have thrown me across the edge and toeing the line whereby i have to make decisions which would out me in the shoes of the villain. i am weary of being accused of toying with heartstrings i am weary of being attached and then instinctively recoiling away.
my dislike for being languid and unoccupied resides in the fact that it just gives me more time to descent into the tresses of my own mind. i am aware of the danger in that. danger in the presence of memories being raked up, implications being entangled with current relationships and situations and a whole bundle of WHAT-IFS would surmount to nothing but more paranoia and insecurity on my part.
despite all these there's a certain serenity being at home.
and 40 days before i get tossed back to london where reality melts back to a trance like dream.
x
if i had the gift of the gab i wouldn't be translating how i feel into a façade of literary rantings. even so i am not equipped with the essential vocabulary to intrinsically encapsulate how the emotional cesspool whirring inside of me.
i crumble under the invisible pressure of having the ability to crush people's desires.
its not a choice i have made but the circumstances which have thrown me across the edge and toeing the line whereby i have to make decisions which would out me in the shoes of the villain. i am weary of being accused of toying with heartstrings i am weary of being attached and then instinctively recoiling away.
my dislike for being languid and unoccupied resides in the fact that it just gives me more time to descent into the tresses of my own mind. i am aware of the danger in that. danger in the presence of memories being raked up, implications being entangled with current relationships and situations and a whole bundle of WHAT-IFS would surmount to nothing but more paranoia and insecurity on my part.
despite all these there's a certain serenity being at home.
and 40 days before i get tossed back to london where reality melts back to a trance like dream.
x