Comfort.

Flaming June, by Fredrick Lord Leighton

Flaming June, by Fredrick Lord Leighton

Have I given in to the idea that what I am experiencing today is comfortable and sustaining? Is the gray cloud of doom really come any minute now that I convince myself to cherish these last few months of rapture? Have I really become lazy because I pity myself too much that I give enough room to have fun and enjoy? Is this what I really want?

My consciousness is fully aware of the fact that drastic changes in my life are about to come but has some fucking plane or phase or any fucking dimension in my mind made the decision to deny it despite the thousands and thousands of angry self reminders I scream inside my head?

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This fucking blog is supposed to be ideally something that aims to uplift but I have made a fool out of myself to commit to such a goal by not really facing myself in the first place. Have I taken big of a bite that I am choking now, trying to chug everything down my throat?

 

I am being crippled by the thoughts in my head that I cannot do important yet easy, minimal tasks. I don’t know what exactly has gone over me and it is not so cool.

 

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