Bitching

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. But now that the flood gate has burst, he didn't know how to stop it, or retracted it back in. He supposed hindsight is always twenty-twenty, but being reminded of that in the middle of this...breakdown was not something he needed right now. Everywhere he searched in vain though, the exits they were not.

Sometimes, he thought he could be a real idiot. And other times, he could be real smart, because he was real lucky. He wouldn't kid himself or anyone that he was a genuinely awesomely clever guy. So why couldn't now be one of those times that he was lucky? Did life always choose whether to hand you apples or oranges? Is it only the blessed few that had the ability to pick? If yes, did that mean he wasn't one of the blessed few? And if another yes, why the fuck was it that he wasn't included in the list of the blessed few? Is this fair?

He knew he could keep on bitching like this for another hour. And another hour. And another, until maybe, it had been a day or a week, and he was spent. Yet that didn't seem to be too good of a prospect. The thought of agonizing over something he knew is useless didn't look appetizing. He had known of this always, and so though the thought now does not in any way come as a surprise, it served as some sort of welcome. Whether a pleasant or an unwanted one, he isn't really able to say.

For now.

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*** random doodles. While waiting to be picked up.