I really thought I was content
Counting sheep and staring at the ceiling

(Home - Nadia Fay)

Then I realise counting sheep and staring at the ceiling is not content.

My head will explode, so does this tiny thing inside my chest.

And I am at the point where I cannot tell any story, nor a fairy tale. I might discomfort all the people around me because of all that I can say are the same old stories. I even feel bored with my stories.

One thing for sure, after all, I feel grateful for the choices I have made:

1. Back home, since I am not sure I could handle this feeling when I was there alone.

2. Cancelled my enrollment to learn about unseen things, that will literally create an abundant explosion in my head.

Even though I have to deal with some other things that hurts my everything: the stranger, and the fact that I can not give up on my dreams while I do not know what should I do to make them come true.




note to self

_______________________________

Me, being selfish, irrational, and crazy.