Rants.

That kind of contemptuous feeling inclined me close enough to the edge of abhorrence, yet it is restrained by somehow a retained, conscious feeling of not going beyond that invisible barred field. 'Cause it is just too exhausting of having the need to exert all of the summoned strength, both mentally and physically for countless of the very same agitated thought, to a point of all these do not seem to matter anymore and I wish to cremate them to dust and let it be blown by wisps of April forceful wind.

Despite of all that had happened, the historical lamented brooding days, even though had passed, but it is actually not quite. As I backtracked the dark period that now has gone to its slumber time, for a brief moment that particular sense was what I had been dreading for, but then the termination of the briefness within one fast blink perplexed my thought even further than to be having to understand the very essence of this restless journey. The vertical accumulation of desires, hopes and expectations is growing in a hasty manner, very amass to a point where they could no longer be numerable.

This just unbearable sometimes, giving me jolts at nights, the fear of needing to shove them off my plate yet at the same time I am still grappling them tight, frustratingly reluctant to let them go, albeit the very known fact as such of malign emotions are not perishable and hence the undesired but most preferable final sanction has to be made in the quickest of time. But I do not have the knack, and that is just it.

The familiar, known faces are no longer one. Merely just salt and pepper, grained images of my minuscule fragments of the past memories. Endearingly grand, yet the emptiness of it gives me bland excitement. The ash in my mouth. The cataracts of the scenery. The inflammation of the extremities. The growling of the little red thorned devils inside my heart.