I feel. I feel
Funny, isn't it? How plans never seem to stay the way you told them to. They always tend to wander off the path you ordered them to walk, and instead, meander away into a forest of uncertainty and…feelings.
I never planned to feel like this…in fact, my plans clearly stated that I wouldn't feel at all. Ever. Yet, here I am, just 12 months after writing and sealing the scroll of my future, having…feelings.
My misbehaving plans are laughing at what they have caused. My unruly molars are chewing gracelessly on my words, who are wilted in shame anyway. Broken.
I look in the mirror. It isn't cold today, and yet he shivers, and I tremble. There. Our plans and promises both were nightmare teens.
I wanted to leave here. Always. So much of my blood is smeared on the walls, the corridors, the windows, floors, grass, pupils. I could never recover there.
So many people have tapped into my veins. It would explain the scars. I could never tell if these would-be practitioners were giving or taking the sticky crimson substance which seems to keep me alive. I'm still confused. There. See?
Really, I'm leaving a puddle of familiar strangers to enter an ocean of strange strangers. I feel…I feel. And yet again.
And you. I hate you. There. I can't stand how I feel about you. There. It's ridiculous. I've fallen, and it hurts. There. My plans have their own agenda as I stare into your eyes. Your beautiful, blind eyes. There.
Tears? Enough to drown you in. Regrets? The past, the present, the future. Fears? Everything. Uncertainty? Constant. Feelings? 'Absent.' 'Don't lie! Don't pretend to be ill!' 'Fine. Present. Here.'