Right now, my head hurts. As if my brain is melting inside my skull — just burning there — for the sake of my inescapable torment. Astigmatism, probably, since i haven’t worn glasses during the last two days. (Why, who would take a bed rest and wear glasses? Certainly not even the insane ones like me.) Or maybe this ache is a mark of the two feverish nights — evenings of abandonment and unmet lustful wills — and three fiery days spent in immobility and indigestion of thoughts.
To hell with my waterless water breaks and two cans of soda and a cup of ice coffee.
What i hate the most about being sick is not being able to write another story. 
I wasn’t able to create new characters over the weekend and a new plotline. But somehow that’s okay. Sleeping all day is the same escape from the reality.
I can’t really define my life right now, I think i’m lost with my own current. I’m still deliberating whether or not I should drop this course, or finish college, or not overdose in aspirin after the 2012 Fail. Stuff like that. I still don’t have a good reason to live on. Every morning still feels strange and void; the more mornings i get up from bed, the less reasons i see for getting up next morning. Every night, i close my eyes just to finally end the day and escape life.
However, things changed quite a bit since i acquired this illness. Not that i became more appreciative of life and happier in general, but i was able to decide what a monster i was. Maybe because i was just ill, or maybe because a switched flicked in my brain and my demons decided to leave me. Or maybe it was a sign of giving up, of surrender, of admitting to my vain attempts and selfish goals…Heck, i was like a kid throwing temper tantrums. Was i that desperate, that forsaken, that thirsty for attention and love? Was i that much of a persistent warrior all-arms for his love?
On some days, i wonder where has this taken me. I even go to the extremes of needing a map and compass just to see where i already am. I’ve tried going away only to see how much i wish to get back. I’ve tried shunning love away only to be drooling for it the next day. I’ve tried to cut my arm and swear i will lose my virginity soon this semester, in rebellion, but where am i now? It still feels like first square, that goddamn first square, except that i’m bruised and torn altogether.
This isn’t just about fighting for the boy and the kiss we had last last year. This is about my whole life in general.
Sometimes i can just stare at the wall and ask myself, “So what’s next?” then like always, the outside world pulls me back, compels me to breathe and move, curse and cry, choose death over survival.
Or maybe, this is just a headache.
