Airwaves. 15:56

I'm sorry. It's all that I can say.

Dear imaginary,
You might read this or you may not, but I guess that’s not what really matters now…
Recently, I’ve found myself in the need for an emotional outlet and I have found drawing and poetry calming, but perhaps symbols are not of the best use when one finds herself bursting like a little pimple. And therefore, I shall indulge now in the workings of my mind. But audience beware, the lunacy brought about by continuous learning might just be the one causing this post.

Is everything merely an imagination?
Whatever it is, do continue reading if you will, though I highly doubt you’d be able to extract anything of much use.

It has been raining a lot lately, and no, that does not mean I’m crying. I meant it in the literal sense, but perhaps, as always in Montag’s case in Farenheit 451, the sky mirrors my emotions. It mirrors everyone’s emotions, really. At any given point in time we all have our woes, but whether it is the sadness or the happiness that is overwhelming is a variable.

Which is worse?
Watching a scene unfold before your eyes and not being able to do anything about it, or actively participating, then later realizing that the results of what you’ve contributed is not what you wanted?

People always say you never want what you have. I disagree with that. But perhaps, when it comes to this I do agree. In both ways, we would suffer the thought of the possibility of a better yield.

It has come to my attention that I had lately been to a certain extent, dangerously and annoyingly, emotionally attached. It happens quite rarely, really. And I’m not exactly a fairy-tale dreamer, so to me, perhaps, the thought of it would have been more of a nightmare than a dream. I have, on several occasions, dismissed and neglected the possibility of feeling something deep again, but nonetheless, you actually matter. But perhaps I never wanted it that way. And before you I’ve been perfectly fine with the trying to be emotionally independent of anyone. But you crossed over. And what really freaked me out was that I wasn’t at all freaked out. Which felt strange.

For that while, I was happy.

And of course, what comes after is just…devastation.
I mean, who wouldn’t be utterly saddened? You’ve gone through trouble to set this moat and decoys to make it look like it’s not there. Someone crosses, whether intentional or not, and you, for one reason or other, decide not to shoot him down. And it’s just… Stab. Stab. Stab.

Gah. I'm sorry for being self-absorbed. It's all I can put myself through right now.