So I asked. And I got the answer that I was expecting.
Thousands of what-ifs ran through my mind. Images of you and me, vivid, conjured by an over-zealous creative mind, repeats itself endlessly. Sleep was not forthcoming.
Kept slipping into denial mode, with thoughts of you actually contacting me, reversing your answer. Forced back to reality. Reality bites. And it also tore off a huge chunk of me.
The familiar question ‘What have I done to deserve this?’ was asked again and again. If only I could escape to the realm of insanity, perhaps the pain will stop. How do one actually go crazy?
This taunting, teasing, humiliation from Fate has to stop. Because I do not know how much more I can tolerate, how much more before I decide that I myself will put an end to all these. The pain, though familiar, gets harder and harder to endure each time. And I am running out of painkillers.
I am tired. Tired of picking myself up each time, tired of going through the pieces, tired of sorting out my life through the pain. Tired of this mess that I am in. Tired of where my life is heading.
Tired. Of everything.
