Nine months.
This is how it feels to be committed for that long.
Perhaps that is why I cannot tell my own stories. Perhaps.
Maybe that is the reason I can only tell of other people's lives. Maybe.
It is not that I have nothing to share but you see I have changed perspectives. It is not a bad thing at all but it is not of too much interest.
Ah, I can still remember. Those were the carefree days. My days with men.
I just giggled at the thoughts of the past.
Life has been quite monotonous. Not a bad thing at all.
But of course I still somehow miss those days.
Club boys will be club boys, as some say.
Why am I telling you this? This should be left in the mind, a personal issue left in the conscious part of thoughts.
Because I know I will look back on this post.
That somehow I told people other people's stories because I can't tell mine.
Perhaps the excitement dwindled?
Or perhaps maturity finally settled?
"But irony deepens a person, helps them mature" - Oshima, Kafka On The Shore by Haruki Murakami
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maturity finally settled?
ReplyDelete- how do you define maturity?
you're reading kafka on the shore pala.. was it good?
Are you ... happy?
ReplyDelete@shenanigans - maturity can be explained in various ways. For me, it is more of less impulses, emotional or physical.
ReplyDeleteIf you like a subtle fiction-fantasy genre on a novel then you will love this.
@Kane - I am, there's just a part of me that wants to go back sometimes...
maturity - so its like responding to a certain situations appropriately?
DeleteIn a sense. :)
Delete