There is a storm brewing; I can already feel it in the small gaps of my everyday tasks. The 3rd cubicle of the office comfort room is now a witness.
The point of questioning, scaring and blaming yourself inside your head while doing casual things (like refilling your rocket ship water bottle from The Mind Museum in The Fort) is to somehow remind yourself how stupid and careless your life plans are; as if to mock those snippets you have in your head before you sleep or whenever you tell someone that your flight date is on the 23rd, when its really on the 27th.
You realize how fucked up you are when you tell different versions of the real story to different people AND THEN blame it on how you categorize your relationship with them (i.e, you told the guard from the Reception Area that you’re leaving because you just happened to have the opportunity land on your lap the moment you wished for some change to happen, but on your colleagues’ version you were somehow looking for it and then happen to land on the opportunity. Same luck, different tones)
There is a storm coming from all this blind happy indecisions. There is a spike somewhere in this bright cliff that you’re about to jump from.
Sometimes you think that announcing that you’re leaving is enough perk as it is because at least, you’ve finally gotten that god damn attention and praise and sweet begging for you to stay you think you’ll only get when you die. But the reality of you staying would leave your spirit dry kicks in.
Your heart is hammering from all the possibilities. You have never been shaken this hard before, and yet you stick to your plan. Leave, get a little of your dreams, leave and wish that you fulfill a bigger part of your dreams this time and then plan on leaving again.