Diary of An Eccentric

Part 2

  So there I was facing a window.  Looking into a cold empty road from several floors up. My friend offered me something. A small white stick with a yellow filtering tip to end the whites. "Painkillers" he said.

  I didn't knew how to properly smoke at the time, mainly because I had an almost firm stance against cigarettes and the sorts.  At first I rejected, but then after the feelings came, I thought to myself that maybe I really need something to numb myself up.

  He talked about this one girl that he liked, about their story, and how he felt about it at the moment. Felt sorry for the guy, I really did. He was clueless about how his former relationship randomly ended up in the gutter with the bickering. At that particular time, I was fed up with people and their patterns and cycles of treating others (including myself at that) so I gave him the most (shitty) pessimistic advice my mind was feeling; Some people are just not worth it. (Which would turn out to be a terrible advice as it turns out, dude somehow managed to get things back together on the former relationship so props to him) He listens, and we let the cold empty streets fill the silence whilst I let my lungs and throat burn slowly.

  Despite the buzz I could get out of the illegally stashed cig, I kept thinking about what I should be doing to fix it. To fix fucking up the strongest emotion I've ever felt. Maybe, just maybe, the plan I thought about on the plane isn't that bad, even if it won't make me happy, at least it'll make that particular person happy because it does.

The closure, a final farewell gift.

  After a while, I decided to call it a night. Listened to this one song I just found out about less than a month ago, Fa La La by The Kooks. Friend on the other bed was also tuning to something by Ed Sheeran that I can't seem to remember the name of.

  As a wallflower who sees things, I must say, we boys have a very stealthy way of crying our hearts out.