7/23/2007
Fourth straight

It's funny to think that one person can make you contemplate about the very life you're living. It's funnier thinking that you're not really supposed to. But when your thoughts drift to, maybe, hearing things from out of the blue once you set the association - ahhh, you really have a problem.

I spent most of my day at the editing bay. Sure enough, I got depressed, walking in and out of the door to answer metaphorical phone calls, or quench my stress. Or maybe I felt too nosey that morning, for definitely everybody's thinking of nothing but another strike for animosity's sake. At the end of the day, however, I'm the one you probably met the very first time - extremely preppy, extremely giddy, and with an overwhelming sense of self-deprecation, forever referencing the depression that happened earlier. Maybe it's my aura that's dropping to never-heard lows, or maybe it's just fatigue plus stress making an always-potent combination of knock-ups and mishaps, but I didn't like how it felt. Most especially, why.

Yes, for once I knew why I dropped to those depths. It can be as superficial as a comment taken wrongly - in fact it could be - but I know, it's something about reaching for something, knowing you can't reach it, and doing the next best thing. Some time last week I wrote something on a piece of scratch paper, one thing I probably have always regretted, and yet have done consistently.

I shouldn't have been affectionate.

That piece of paper's probably been thrown away, maybe living in the incinerator or the landfill. Maybe my thoughts and regrets could be consigned to the recycle bin - they get thrown away, but they always come back. I do the sorting out, and it becomes easy to recycle it hurts thinking about it. But on the seventh time I walked back to the room, tried to isolate myself with the headphones from a terribly-dropped mobile, thought of whether regretting about something you usually do is worth it - there it goes. The equipment breaks and it reminds you of sooo many things, again.

So the deal is simply this. Something went wrong when the action was done. Somehow I had good intentions, but I felt that nobody would give anything back. If I remember correctly I was rejected in the silence only she could afford. A simple gesture and nobody needed it. And then it's as if nothing happened. So it's my fault now, I guess, thinking everybody needs a helping hand once in a while?

It's funny to think that one person can make you contemplate about the very life you're living. It's funnier thinking that you're not really supposed to. But when your sanity, at least for six hours, is placed on the line and you've got nothing on your mind but trying hard to push anything out of the window, then, if I may, you're losing your guard again. It's time to end the streak and reserve the fifth idea for something totally disparate.

And your responses...

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