I’ve been having trouble expressing my feelings lately and if you know me, you could conclude that this isn’t a natural phonemenon. My idiosyncratic attitude has become inverted - the stimuli in me must have subjected itself to cryotherapy and maybe I know why.
No, it’s just a false presumption. Truth is, I am clueless. That’s the reason why I don’t think that assuming there is something wrong with me could be anything serious. Ergo, I have nothing to be worried about. But, why do I talk about it? Why do I even think about it? Why does everything feel so deviating?
You turn stiff when you’re supposed to cry, you zip your mouth when you’re expected to say something, you go away when everyone asks you stay, you walk leisurely when you’re supposed to run in a hurry, you mess things up when you’re almost done fixing everything…
And why do you still think that you’re okay when you are not?
Scratching the wound and spitting the pill can’t cure you. And not learning how to swallow it, would definitely choke you to death.
Is this how you go on with life? Is this how you show your gratefulness for being alive?
But are you…
…still living?
