I feel like releasing my stress sometime, somewhere, towards someone, but somehow I am hurting myself worse by wallowing in the absurd phenomenon of shield that covers up myself due to my disciplined daily regime.
Yes, hard time. I am having this hard time for months. I constantly strike hard, try to fix the broken, to pursue, to accomplish, all in the name of gain.
Last Saturday night when the party animals was crawling on the streets and frolicking on the dance floor, I associated myself with them. I purged my unsavory emotions onto the glass of white wine offered by Wilson.
It tasted bitter, but I sipped it as frequent as it looked like I was slurping it. It did not take long for me to get drunk, my tolerant level to alcohol is simply prostrate to the ground. Moments like this I harbor no doubt that I could get rid of all these thoughts and stresses, but it was another story this time. My tear dropped down while I was standing. Next, I sat down and I completely burst out.
Alcohol took away my control over my long-burrowed pain. Damp months have sullied my mind. A glass of white wine dissolved the weak side of my conjugated cognition.
Albeit I worked enough hours, produced and progressed much, these just did not exacerbate me from the research trauma. All these illuminate my future corpse felt threatened by the perceived loss of my imagined throne of brightest dream.
Special thanks to Vixon who accompanied me home, gave up his wild witching hour in exchange with my mild night. I guess this is the scenario where the term of genuine friend worth a whoop.
I should be fine, at least i have something to look forward for the week.
