EDO TO MELANCHOLY

A few things I keep getting back to these days. The thought that the relationship should end is one of them. The thought that there exists no relationship is another. A certain belle's profile is a third. These obviously take me back to a mild depression bordering on tears. Conversation is zoning me out of it. And for the second time in this week I ask: Does it matter. You know they say Keats was a depressed soul, his death was brought on more by his psyche than his tuberculosis. While that diagnosis stands incorrect, I do believe that Keats had real reason for his depression and his general mood of melancholia. Look at me, first relationship ( I'm to scared to call it "love", besides, I'm quite sure love isn't supposed to feel this way.) and I am so very bugged. Ready to pull my hair out at the very hint of a circumstance merely bordering on unsatisfactory and not necessarily uunpleasant. I think I am fuelled by boredom. Yes, nothing can be more upsetting than boredom. I think my procastination is giving me unconscious guilt trips. Obviously It is long established, and I hate to mope but WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MEANING of a relationship so dry, so unfeeling and so exclusively physical. It takes half of my brain's thinking space and provides me not so much as the first letter of an answer. I don't really know why I am in this, I am not in love. It's so established. I don't know how to tell Alex that and I don't know what motherfuckin insecurity and bond still binds me to him. Also, im in a mood for anecdotes-




Fortunately for some of us, precision comes with practice.

Humour is an art best accompanied with timing.

Had love been above all, half the world would be penniless. Perhaps it IS about all, hence more than half of the present world is.