Good news is, I do think I'm getting better at detaching myself from the perilously emotional and morose. The bad news is, I think I'm getting better at detaching myself from everything else.
It's like trying to slow down then ending up stalling the engine. Suddenly, I've stopped -- and what I've been doing, or what I was planning to do doesn't make much sense nor mean anything anymore. And I want to step out of the vehicle, change things up. But I'm honestly quite afraid that life will roll on without me as usual, that nobody would even notice I'm not there anymore as they move on along. I have a penchant for expecting something grand then disappointing myself -- and while a grand farewell is what I would've pictured, it is also quite unlikely, given my batting average at What If's.
It's kind of sad, though, walking away without anybody making a fuss. But the truth is, I'm almost sure that's how things will turn out and around for me. Life has a propensity for getting ironic and wry on me like that.
Clawing deep inside where the monsters in my head lurk, I wonder why there aren't so many around anymore, or why almost all of them have quieted down. Almost as if they've slumbered when I stopped bringing them up to the surface. Trapped in the pitfall, along with everything else. And strangely enough, my insides are intact. They've stopped aching and crying themselves to sleep.
Is that why it suddenly seems so easy to leave everything behind now? Maybe.
So what next, Myself?
