I feel the fatigue wrapping itself layer by layer over my muscles, seeping into my veins.
Sometimes, I'm hit with a spasm that I can't control.
A fatigue so thorough that I can't bring myself to get out of the bed I flopped myself on a few mintues before.
It makes me miss the times when I had control. (or so I thought) during the period of self-inflicting tattoos on my skin.
In the brief moments where I am so tired, I severely crave those times yet feel angry at myself that I even allow myself to.
Maybe it's the weather. the rains have a tendency to bring out my melancholic side.
Or maybe it's just the journey back and forth each day. The routine.
The same bus routes.
I can take routine but I don't necessarily like it.
Yet when routine ends with change, I scream for familiarity.
It's easy to blame it all on Time.
Time that took away things I haven't begun to fully appreciate.
Indifferent is a very good way to describe my attitude towards Time.
I just don't count it.
It just passes. If I happen to notice the time, then I do. If I don't, then I just don't.
Hmm. I read the post over again and I realise I'm not coming to my point.
As usual, there's just too many things running around in my head.
If I took the time to string them all together, end to end, they'd reach forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment