This afternoon I checked my Outlook just to tick off university spams as read. For the lack of activities on a leisurely Saturday, I thought I'd kill time by filling out research surveys for those final year procrastinators-- isn't it a kind gesture of support? By the time I finished the questionnaire, the lid over my pent up frustration had already been tossed somewhere far away, to a God forsaken pit of hate.
Answering the questions and admitting to myself my own loneliness is... I am HAPPY these days, but days turn into nights. Everytime, I would watch the sky through my balcony door change, from that unbearable blue to a warm orange, then twilight comes, and only after a sigh, I am greeted by the night sky. The moment I hear the crickets, my strength to smile leaves.
Friends, are friends. As friends, they can only do so much. How long can you hug each other before it gets awkward? Can I hold your hand because I miss the warmth of someone else's palm in mine? I like kisses too, so is it okay for me place one on your lips, or even your cheek, maybe just your forehead?
Even if the answer is yes, it wouldn't change the way I feel. Without meaning in those touches, how can I possibly be touched?
The packages that keep arriving at my door, the addiction in which I desperately cram materialistic consolation into my heart-- it's never enough. I don't want what's real anymore, only the scent of roses that waves me off into sweet reverie.
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