- Think I've sunked lower into an existential funk.
Maybe because when things got dreary, finally came to that flatline of the heart rate. Just when you think the road couldn't get more grey, more cemented. Life conjures an open drain in front of you.
I don't know what could be worse.
Seems like the facts of the case point to history revisited. Cautioned myself a long time ago, eons ago, about such dangers. Made that error once, paid dearly, painfully for it. Felt like a concussion of the heart and no hope at all, for reprieve.
I guess I did a pretty good job at defense. Had all my stone walls and all my shields and arms-length body language. All the closed-in-ness. I put up all these roadblocks but I still can't stop this creeping into territory. Maybe its inevitable after all. Only a matter of time, a matter of enough lunches, enough conversations. It doesn't take alot to get enthralled by kindness.
Maybe I shouldn't have gone on that trip. No, no who am I kidding. I would've, should've. It was worth it. Worth maybe, even this souvenier of regret. This unwanted, bastard child of circumstance. Came back with a new standard of low. This hollow, vaccum that screamed for the past. For an illusion of the future, fully knowing that all fantasy is pure conjecture. I seem to have chosen the worse possible option. No, wait not me. My heart seems to have chosen the worst possible option.
Of them all - you would be the worst. Probably the farthest.
I wish to knife it at the jugular. Conservative analysis screams at me to stay away. To run, to hide, to be professional. To pour my minutes into the numbers and face eye-locked with the screen. To bury myself in thoughts of career and progression, and material wealth to come. To recall my purpose here, and the big dreams I had when I first began.
And it is foolish to throw it all way. Foolish to even contemplate a risk, and forget it, impossible was never more real than now.
To sour things further, I am now 24. In an existential funk. With life outside of work leading down a road that has an open drain. Somehow I'm walking towards a cut. The road is inclined, slipping, down towards the slide.
There are days I wish I could tell you how ... awesome you are. And it pricks to find a kindred spirit, one whose dreams and ideals fly off the norms like the edge-walkers, the mavericks. Then to discover that you had a bigger love for giving than me. Put this ego to shame and this heart to warmth. To lie awake at odd hours of the night and wish eternity to our tennis games. To giggle and smile inwardly, to stoke the laughter and self-depreciation, to wish the world and ponder the universe. To peel off some of this hard outer shell and risk letting you know me. I've done all these. But this is where the road ends, it stops at the cliff where the sunset is far off and forever out of reach. You could only stare at its glory and then the day leaves you, alone in the cold of the night. Like those sunsets, everytime you leave I am left melancholic and chilled.
Some days, I feel like putting a wider step through the door, inch it forwards, come what may, see how it goes. Throw chance to the winds. But logic tells you that this is one of those things in life - where you seal behind vaults. I've hidden too many things recently. Sometimes I can't even find them anymore, inside.
And so lately, I've been fighting this kindness of yours. It will harm me eventually. In ways you wouldn't know. Shouldn't know because I know you. I know it's an epilogue in our story that I would never want to read. So I won't allow it to happen. No I won't chance it.
I wish you wouldn't tell me that you want to introduce me to someone else - when it's you I want.
elsa | 11:54 PM
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