I recently disturbed the universe.
Of course, for anyone who upturns an entire universe, he would know what the outcome is, and what it really feels like. However, there seems to be a great amount of people who could achieve this without failure, without having to resort to such direct methods that hurts not only me, but to a large extent, her.
I grew to hate them. I had always disliked people who seemingly have no difficulty with this business. Out of jealousy, perhaps, but more prominently, out of the disconnection between me and them. It certainly feels that they are a different race of humans altogether, or, even, that I am the weird human, the mutation that should not have existed at all.
I had to say I expected nothing from this ordeal. I was simply set into motion when I realized that I could not bear the sight of her "interacting with others extensively", so to speak (I am such an evil being). The rational voice is completely muted by pure desire to possess, that I decided that this is the end of all uncertainty, that I must find out what the truth is.
How could one be disappointed when one expected nothing? This is a question I cannot answer. The most logical explanation would be that I had some expectation. I told myself to not care, but evidently that is a premise I violated blatantly. I would not put myself into such an outlandish situation, so uncharacteristic of my normal self, that would warrant words that could severely hurt someone. The truth is, I like her, and I would never do such a thing to someone I like.
Two weeks and counting have passed since, but it felt like an eternity, to put into cliched terms. Indeed, these kinds of situations are so often depicted in the media: A character, rather obtuse and foolish, seeks someone whom they love, and of course fails completely and miserably. We all laugh at these kinds of shows, thinking that there is no way a reasonable human would act like that.
Turns out I am quite foolish indeed.
I had come to terms that no one possibly gives a damn about my sadness. Humans abhor sadness, since it hinders their thoughts and actions, and is rather contagious in fact. They do not want to fall into melancholy, so being depressed is not considered a professional behaviour, not what a well behaved human should do. But there is a definite piece of me that is missing after this ordeal, and, whenever the gales of Cambridge starts to hit me, the gap widens, an endless chasm of nothingness opens up.
I wanted to cry, but no tears would come out. I suppose this is such a laughable matter that even my body would say it is not worth producing tears for.
But that is enough of me. This post will not be shared, and to those who stumble upon this, thank you for reading through. I know that I am pathetic, and I really deserve not much sympathy from having this selfish desire, but this is part of who I am, as a naive child stuck in time. This is the Hyde to the Jekyll you perhaps think I am.
And if you are reading, by some inconceivable chance,
Sorry. Since we may never meet again, I wish you a happy and successful life ahead.
