As I continue to live and slowly die (depends on how you look at it), I’m beginning to realize the specific moments when I become pulled enough by gravitational forces to write.
The weightlessness I had felt in my previous dream was replaced by a stone in my stomach: a stone of burden. A stone of gall. A stone of responsibility and reality. All lightness faded away.
On the surface I was fine but my ego was semi-shattered. For something that initially didn’t really matter, I sure cared about her a lot.
Hindsight is 20/20.
Trust me, you are not alone.
Relationships forged at a place called home are forged for years, possibly decades, constantly weathering storms and evolving and intertwining together that form a binary system, with one being revolving within the gravity of another, spinning together, floating through space together, expanding together, growing old and one day dying together.
Did I make the right choices after college? Was this the path I should’ve gone on?
I’m multitasking so much that my mind turns into a split screen. My eyes see double and I find myself double fisting when one drink is merely enough.