Closure. That is all that I needed, really.
So now that my grand plans of A and B have failed me this time around, I have moved on to plan C – but that, too, has threatened to pull the carpet off my feet. I suspect that the feng shui or vastu sastra in my room may have been set to perfect negatives.
Evidently, the vulnerability surrounding this has been astounding, to say the least.
Of course, it is always easier to blame everything and everyone when things do not go your way: the unsightly scratches of the glass coffee table; an unsuspecting stranger who stopped to tie his shoelaces down the street; those annoying bird recordings emanating from the neighbour’s yard every morning.
Admittedly, the days have been slow, for they are hardly the kind that you would want to pluck any faint traces of happiness out of, only to keep them safe in a tiny green jar.
Those words of inspiration have long gone out the window, only to be replaced by a series of sorry, navel-gazing episodes returning with a vengeance. Now that every inch of myself has crashed and burned into nothingness due to despair, it would be a futile exercise to put anything that is left out of its misery anymore.
They say things happen for a reason. Well, pardon me, but I well and truly cannot fathom this one.
I don’t need any help to be breakable, believe me.