I'm weakwilled and I hate it.
I keep inching myself nearer to things that I know, I absolutely know, will make me sad. I don't even know why I'm drawn to these things. And then when it successfully kills my mood I flinch and recoil, and start ranting about how weakwilled I am. I. Hate. It.
In case you have not realized, this is exactly the case now.
It makes me a little bit happy to hole myself up in this world of my own. Feed myself false images, scenarios that will definitely not happen, replaying scenes that make me smile and smile and smile... Like an idiot. Shut myself out from anything that might hint, guide or steer my train of thoughts towards reality, and that includes drowning out all my mental protests. As miniscule each nudge might be. It makes an impact and it makes a difference. Did you know that when a pilot steers a plane and if he inaccurately navigates the bearing, he will end up elsewhere? Even if the bearing has a difference of just one degree.
If I had to put a term for it, it would be deluding myself. Something someone else did that made me scowl. But now I'm being like that.
It does not feel... bad. At least, not until reality hits hard.
Which is. What. Is happening. Right. Now.
Happy birthday to Darren Teo and Wei Jie (Bawang).
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I love sleeping, eating and my imaginary tattoo.
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