Thursday, August 22, 2013

Something's wrong with my thought process. It's something that I always say to people when I talk to them as I almost chase them off with the nonsense that comes out from my mouth. And it has been finding its way to my writing as well.

Having fun is something of previous stranger to me. For the longest time, I avoided going out with friends though I find myself getting sucked in anyways. I had a weird thinking that when things are getting good, it can only get worse from then on. It was a constant gnawing feeling. It is an itch, dangerous to scratch. Whenever I down a bottle or enjoy a cup of coffee outside, I just get this feeling at the back of my head and the bottom of my gut. It's like something bad is going to happen.

I had held on to this thinking for a very long time until I forgot how it felt like to be down. The regular questions as to why shitty things happen were a ruse to the more serious problem. I was just having too much fun. Everything was just a blur. Even the problems seemed like a math problem, no worries since I can deal with them mentally. The thing is, I suck at math. Suxxxxx.

Apparently, the feeling is shared by my mom. She told me that she was exactly like that when she was in college. The big difference between us is that she was put together more than I ever was and am now. She's on a different league and apparently, everybody else but me.

I'm sorry. This is just verbal abuse. It's a waste of code and memory. Here's the only place that I can't hurt or maim someone else in my release process. I'm a mean drunk at times.

1 comment:

  1. I kind of feel the same way. Probably, there are days when I can suppress it better. There are days when they resurface and I let the deluge just wash over me. My sanity is kept together though, cos of a few people who remind me that I'm not so bad you know? You aren't either.

    At least you're put-together enough to realize that there are certain pieces that are loose and need some tweaking. You'll be fine.

    Just watch out for that liver, mate. Or I'll gut you meself.

    - J