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Happy Pills
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Chapter 2:- Loneliness
Maybe it’s a part of my fate, being alone.
Maybe, I am meant to do this all by myself. Maybe, I am the only friend I need. Or even want. I don’t know why I am like this, I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to just let loose and get close with people.
Attachment. It is scary but so mysterious.
I don’t know what to think. Maybe, I think too much. I tend to over think everything around me. Everything I do or say. Same goes for the people around me. Who said that having a good memory was good?
But I have my book, at least. I have something, a dream. A future?
People are people. They are not meant to stay, they are meant to leave. They always did, and always will. I’ve always been alone, and I’m comfortable in my loneliness. I have something to believe in, something I can depend on, a world in my head.
I used to think that my imagination was my curse, since it always dragged me into trouble and separated me from everyone. Now, I am convinced that it’s the only thing that is good in me. It’s not a curse, but a gift. My gift.
With some words, by tipping on a keyboard, by using a pen, I create. I create life, people and stories. Most of the time it stays in my head, and like a book-lover, I am attracted to it. Captivated.
Nothing out of this word matters. Such a beautiful power.
So scary that frightens me...
Maybe it’s a part of my fate, being alone.
Maybe, I am meant to do this all by myself. Maybe, I am the only friend I need. Or even want. I don’t know why I am like this, I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to just let loose and get close with people.
Attachment. It is scary but so mysterious.
I don’t know what to think. Maybe, I think too much. I tend to over think everything around me. Everything I do or say. Same goes for the people around me. Who said that having a good memory was good?
But I have my book, at least. I have something, a dream. A future?
People are people. They are not meant to stay, they are meant to leave. They always did, and always will. I’ve always been alone, and I’m comfortable in my loneliness. I have something to believe in, something I can depend on, a world in my head.
I used to think that my imagination was my curse, since it always dragged me into trouble and separated me from everyone. Now, I am convinced that it’s the only thing that is good in me. It’s not a curse, but a gift. My gift.
With some words, by tipping on a keyboard, by using a pen, I create. I create life, people and stories. Most of the time it stays in my head, and like a book-lover, I am attracted to it. Captivated.
Nothing out of this word matters. Such a beautiful power.
So scary that frightens me...
