I’ve blogged about this before. I know I have.
I sound like a broken record.
Simply because there’s an opposite to what you experience that allows you to differentiate one from the other.
Somehow I feel that this are not my emotions.
Perhaps I feel too deeply and in my cavalier disregard to limitations, allowed myself to immerse into the lives of others, so much so that they have become ingrained in mine.
Afterall, I have nothing to whine about. I don’t have flies on my face or a swollen belly. Everything is great in the sense that this is as good as it gets and I say this in an optimistic sense.
Not “the glass is half empty” sense.
Perhaps if someone pointed a proverbial gun to my forehead, I’d be able to articulate myself more eloquently.
More often than ever though, it’s all of the above and “perhaps” is a shovel called Coward and is used to dig loop holes in denying yourself the truth.
There is no real point in picking this self-probing scab. I ought to escape from this emotional masochistic milieu I’ve barricaded myself in.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps….