Thursday, March 4, 2010

You can't tell me to heal

The only acceptable form of wasting the holidays is this. Spending a day away from everything and freeing myself from my strangling thoughts. In other words: super massive K.O. Hurhur. Literally leaving my worries behind. Ha ha ha. Our lifestyles are so drastically different. Yeah, I know I'm gonna have to get over it soon. It's just that I am so easily won over by my own arguments. How I am able to so easily misconstrue things and see it from a million different angles. Being screwed over a million different ways. Backed up by this notion my father taught me all these years, that I am too good to be cheated out on. On top of all this anxiety and worry that I am wasting my holidays. All these little thoughts form like a prickly heat; tingling and irritating my skin. Next thing I know I've snapped at you for something completely unrelated, something under the surface. Pardon me, I am truly trying not to let it explode inside my head. Though I must admit I sometimes play my cards out of spite. I guess I just miss the days when we were on equal ground. I need some solid opinions on what whiplashed really means.


A selfish kind of life

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