Feb 2021
I do not quite have any words for it and it is indeed impossible to describe further, but something close to it should be—
melancholy.
Without utter doubt, melancholy.
I should stop pretending that the matter does not bother me anymore, it does. With full conviction by the heavy thud in my chest, it does. What is more saddening to this manner is that I have come to accept this resignation that there is nothing I could do about it. I've been living my life that way, by confiding into solemn retreat and actually convincing myself that there is nothing to be done. Even when in reality, there actually is.
melancholy.
Without utter doubt, melancholy.
I should stop pretending that the matter does not bother me anymore, it does. With full conviction by the heavy thud in my chest, it does. What is more saddening to this manner is that I have come to accept this resignation that there is nothing I could do about it. I've been living my life that way, by confiding into solemn retreat and actually convincing myself that there is nothing to be done. Even when in reality, there actually is.
