Settling chocolate

Since then I've told thirteen people about it, more or less. Maybe, thirteen people by name, and a few dozen more by sensible cover-ups, as if it matters.

The term has finally settled in, for some particular reason, and although there obviously is no reason to feel easy because it's going to get harder. For one, I spent money and energy running up and down, trying to make my concept paper right, and it led to an overhaul of what I wanted to happen, and consequently, how many people I'll have to deal with as director. As if I wasn't tired enough. I really want to sleep, but I still feel like waking up.

Weirdly, during the past week I'm torn between sleeping and staying up. It's as if every time I sleep I don't feel sleepy, but when I wake up I feel the opposite. Not that my environment has been less noisy lately - although Ariane had a lot of free time figuring that out - but something certainly is weird. It's as if, for once, I am losing motivation, slowly draining me to no good.

True enough, for most of the time it didn't matter. Nothing close to a disturbance, nothing to a nightmare, nothing to something that'd usually keep me awake at night, but when I think about it it's as if it's to rip me apart. And then I just forget about it.

It's hard to let go, I know. Eventually you'll run around crazy until somebody randomly diagnoses you and says you are safe, or at least you won't need amputation. By this time I'd be acting weird, talking randomly to people (if they were there) or to people I'd only imagine were there, but actually weren't, and aren't.

But the funny thing is, there isn't any need to let go. Quite frankly I've been living with this random fact for months now, from the moment I told her about what I sort of felt for her, and then it was simply easy from there on. Quite frankly, I knew what else would happen - and despite the numerous pangs I am still hanging on to nothing, which is quite a feat, really. It's as if nothing happened.

Sometimes I think whatever animosity I'm feeling right now is caused by whatever it is that made me think I've been left alone. As if I was the only one that was, or maybe it's simply me adjusting to yet more changes. Selfishness comes to mind, and I cannot blame myself - someone who's been passed over and abandoned for so long could only want company, right? And apparently, all this confusion led me to think that there's only one answer to all of it. Obviously, wrong.

It won't make sense if I even try to reminisce because I've reminisced far too many times to forget anything. I'm burned, I haven't a bandage, I haven't a trip to the hospital, and I'm still walking on two feet. So, what was the problem again?

Intermittently I considered opening up, maybe tell more people - maybe everyone - and make something out of nothing. I'm used to people asking me about it, and I'm used to bluffing my way out of it. I might unlock a few secrets and open it to the world like nobody could. A seemingly right time is coming close, you know - it could be very dramatic, to some extent, and that'd make my stomach churn.

Then again, I remembered I somehow promised to her I wouldn't tell anybody about it, as if she actually asked me to do so. It was a self-imposed obligation on my part, and if you ask me I've already broken it so many times. Thirteen people, already - and thirteen may be small, but it is still a public.

Come to think of it, though. I promised not to tell about the situation, but I didn't promise anyone about keeping the "pain" away from view.

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