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tethered to an unbelievable upsurge of emotion, i find myself exquisitely corrupted by angst. you've heard it right. i am enraged. but i am fine. i am dandy. as a matter of fact, i've soaked my rage by tucking my head to my breast. i am holding it there. steady. intact. there, it will grow. and i am letting that slow dance of chaos linger like bad vodka in my mouth. i am not spitting it out. i am letting it sit there for i know what is happening right now will make me a stonger person. i want to sleep it all away, but i know i will wake up from that splitting pain, the music in my airs humming low, a whispering, murmuring sort, almost a stiff punctuation of rebellion gnawing me raw.
how does someone go through all these for twenty-something-years and still get to carry that air of nonchalance? without fidgeting, without pausing to take a deep breath, without anticipating the pain of leaving again and watching the world from a distance. are these people big pretenders? have they become so immune to all these pain that they have come to get in the point of camouflaging how they really feel? yesterday as i saw some friends at their most enraged or at their saddest, i saw the older ones walking around with smiles on their faces - oblivious to those around them who just got crushed. how do they do that? i will keep on wondering and i do not think i will be able to find it out for myself. after this recent occurence, i am getting out of that door without looking back, without regrets. i know that four patient arms are waiting for me at the end of that door.
i guess i just came to a point of losing the faintest tick of faith in me. and that's coming from someone who is ready to stammer a welcome to a whole new world..
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