I don’t know if this is the effects of listening to Matt Nathanson’s Bulletproof Weeks, but if I don’t write this now, rationality will claim me soon.
I feel like I need an anchor to weigh me down right now.
Because for the past few days, I’ve been floating aimlessly in this endless void, and reality doesn’t make sense. I’m like an astronaut drifting in space without having anything to hold on to, to grasp, to know that I won’t simply drift away into oblivion.
I can’t think. I can’t think.
I’ve tried going about business as usual (I mean even my facebook statuses can find room for some humour and normalcy) but who am I kidding?
See my anchor’s in the hospital for almost a week now, down with a dengue fever that just won’t quit, and I can’t concentrate on anything.
Which is just as well that finals begin tomorrow, and I haven’t begun a blooming thing.
I thank my lovely roommate who’s been keeping it together for me, and apologise to everyone else for not sharing this earlier, because I can’t.
It’s just not something I’m used to.
At least I know now it’s not just me. Take care of yourself too okay, don’t forget.
