Because sometimes talking doesn't help. When there's nothing left to be enlightened about, you'll never be able to understand it better. It's not like I never tried. I know things have been complicated and I never made it easy. But it's come to the point where the pile of questions I have is growing exponentially, and the person with the answers can't explain his predicament in any other ways for me to understand it better. In other words, what's the point of discussing a problem which holds no solution?
Hence I've stopped talking/discussing/whining about it.
Everytime I think about it, I just feel conflicted.
It aches.
It tastes of sour and bitterness that sinks into the pit of my stomach.
But I guess I'll get used to it.
I'll get used to never being able to understand how this all happened.
Where the heck did all my positive energy go?
Have yet to find a way to pack up my happiness in a box and have a little whiff of it whenever I'm hopeless like this. The same way I can pick up a Vicks inhaler from the pockets of every single handbag I own everytime I got a bit sniffly.
I remember the day I was skipping up Passfield staircases telling Charmaine that I am so happy that I can die dot com. It wasn't too long ago, but now that joy seems to me to be based on such silly grounds that lately have turned so stale and vague. All I feel now about the exact same thing is just agitation and doubt. How could I have been so sure?
It's difficult to be hopeful when Mr. Optimist isn't too optimistic himself.
Oh well, I guess all I can do is be patient.
After all, we're really not in a rush now.
Or are we?
Lin crashed
@ 7:56 PM | Permalink |
