I'll never understand why some things are so unexpectedly complicated. Foretold is never really forewarned, because emotions are fair-weather and flighty and frightening, like a butterfly or Melbourne weather. Lately life seems to be: knowing what you need to do, and even with all the courage and character you could imagine, the right actions (and re-actions) seem near impossible to perform with sincerity and grace. There's a space around here, locking my thoughts and ego inside some kind of bulletproof bubble. It's suffocating, it's stifling. Empathy and oxygen blend together outside in the air that I'm not allowed to breathe, but I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying and defying and I'm trying and I'm dying. It's lonely in this cage but the solitude is strangely nourishing. I could stay in here forever, maybe, but I don't want to. Suck up this sorrow, sweetheart, and pray it keeps you satiated so that you need nothing else. No company, no sustenance, no nothing. Just sunlight and pennies and the occasional cup of tea.
Lately I feel like a misplaced jigsaw piece, while you're all that perfect puzzle piece every situation was looking for. How do people seem to melt into every moment like a teaspoon of honey in a tangy cup of tea? I don't like being attached to things. Routine commitments are nice, but as much as I love order and good habits, there's something magic about spontaneity and the good kinds of surprises. I'm trapped in this routine of emotions and it's time to move towards something shinybright&new, it's time to set myself free.
