Stuck in Traffic

It's never going to end, isn't it? It'll always come back, haunting me like some sort of a psychopathic energy that would draw out all happiness and life in me, leaving me exhausted, consumed, and... lifeless.

I thought I could make myself believe what I want other people to believe so that they'll leave me alone and I won't be bombarded with a lot of questions any longer. I thought I could make myself do what people expect me to do. Well, they don't see how irritatingly, stubbornly and unreasonably stupid my heart works.

It doesn't follow. It doesn't obey. It frickin' has a mind of its own.

By now, you'd think my body, my mind and my heart have already exhausted themselves from all the ordeals they have undergone. But I guess these three goddamned things take vitamins and drink Gatorade to keep them going. Heck, I, the person, am definitely tired to the extent that I just want to sleep forever. How could recuperate when all parts of my anatomy contradict me?

So, I guesss, I'll just be like this forever. Like I'm stuck in traffic. Never able to go fast and move on to the next stop. I have to go slow, get pissed, remember things, find alternatives to entertain myself while I'm jammed in the middle of the street, and learn about how hard and unexpected life is.