There is no way I can be okay with myself, really. I just don't think of all the shit that happened, whenever they cross my mind I push them away. But there is always this suffocating, uncomfortable restlessness somewhere, the obnoxious stench of the past; and although I have closed the door, I can still hear something breathing behind it quietly.

I donot know but it was so natural, you know (I try to reason). I just had to give in, I couldn't help it. A gust of wind that came and blew me away, that wasn't under my control, that wouldn't listen to me even  if I had tried. 

The snag is here: I could have tried to resist it. I didn't and I know that. 

Why didn't I? 

It was impossible to resist.

How can anything be impossible if I were in love?

I donot know.

Was I in love?

Maybe, yes

Am I still in love?

Yes, maybe.

This is the point where this post should end. It is not going anywhere. There is no message. There is just an empty emotion trying hard to convince you that it is not empty after all. There is no take away. No wisdom. Nothing memorable about this suffocation I try to explain to you.

I just miss someone I was approximately "intense" with. He is in a different continent, completely oblivious of this piece of thought I am having right now. He is probably sleeping. I miss the way his face looked when he was asleep. He is probably having nightmares, too. He frequently has nightmares. I loved to give him solace. He loved to nurse me. I called him mongoose. He called me princess.