I reached a stage where your own mind becomes your best friend, you start talking to yourself while sinking in self pity. Then comes a time when you stop thinking about your present and future and start drinking the alcohol of past, and as they say wine gets better with age so did my memories of the past.
To be honest i dont even like the people in my present life, their faces with the scornful contempt disguised in a cloak of sympathy.
The wounds of faliure have become so flagrant i cant even hide myself from my predators.
I sometimes wish i could run into oblivion, far from the madding, crowd.
However the leash of responsibilty does not let one escape, i have the feeling of a caged animal kept for
public amusement.
Keeping faith in onself is a medicine for despair not for something which is beyond repair. Lol.
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