the textual siege.

what i wouldn't give to slay insecurity and jealousy, the two heads of a monster that has been unrestrainedly romping freely through my reality and consciousness, the catalyst of many a pout or sulk, most of which are indulged in privately.

having never really felt that way before, the most direct ways to deal with it is to a) try to halt the creeping progression of those feelings and look for distractions. b) lash out on the person who may directly or indirectly cause you to feel that way.

b is not an option simply because it is pointless, no one can quash that negativity but yourself. so a it is, because it is just easier to hope really hard that those thoughts are fortuitously layered over with others. besides, who knows what you say or express would spark off a whole new train of thoughts and feelings, not just in yourself but in the person that you thought would understand, that culminates in disaster.

sometimes, silence is just the best placebo.

so now its late. not the 'i dont care what the time is because we're too busy fighting/talking/distracting' kind of late but more of the 'i'm too busy having a sulkfest, attendance : 1' kind of late. i need to pack my worldly possessions so i can camp out at his until an as-yet-undetermined date. normally, i loathe packing because it denotes transition and i need to feel rooted to something, somewhere or someone. but somehow this is fine. i've become a willing gypsy whose own bed doesn't smell of me anymore, whose room is merely a cement, four-walled holdall for tangible proof of my existence, many of which are disposable.