books im forced to read.....

i think studying is fun.
only when you are a genius who could absorb every bloody letter in the book which i obviously can't. im facing a mid term but here i am just typing the time away in this blog that NO ONE READS.

yes im sarcastic.
its my life i swear

i don't like how he makes me feel, even from the start that person just practically arouse this sea of butterflies in my guts. and depending on how he does it, it will either bless my guts or rip them nice and slowly. making sure i feel like garbage.

i can't. i cannot handle the way he blast these deadly butterflies into my guts and practically infect my mind with his face. because every time this virus decided to mobilize, im literally helpless. i can't do things right and each frail breath i try to control just stray and make my weak mind go back to a part where i promised never to return.

for this week of course.

still if only i was strong. he is strong but im weak. apparently i've become this eternal slave of his because of my slow and faint will which was actually the one that kept me together the whole time.
he destroys logic in my reality and it hurts. i'm not sure but i guess to a certain point i may be exaggerating still being too caught in something so trivial makes my mind mock my own soul.

you are hopeless. worthless. helpless and there is no light that can save you.

i want my reality back and im struggling to own it once again. im living for the future but now i want to live today. lets live it, a subtle voice echoes among the silent screams of mockery in my head constantly reminding of what i really am.
that i am obviously lacking.

i lack so much that it burns me in the chest, that sometimes i would scratch it until it flushes color of the pink flesh in me.

can i face reality? am i competent enough to be able to taste happiness here.
not the dreams that i have in the back of my mind.

the reason why i am here, to chase them while silently battling the ghost of grey in my soul.
because when i slightly falter, they would overwhelm the reality and paint my sight with red, laced with grey.
happiness is objective.

and to me, its a luxury.