You know what? When a man reaches the end of his wits, when he's completely trashed his senses, losing his sanity out of sheer desperation, obsession, and irritation, he laughs.
Yup. He laughs.
And that was exactly my situation at that moment.
My eyes were blurred with tears, my voice locked tight in my throat. I couldn't even whisper a single word, out to myself. and then out of hopelessness, I fell back onto the bed, body limp and heavy, tears sliding down my temples.
aghhh...The effort it took just to raise my arm and place it across my eyes, to hide from myself while I wept, felt like swinging a heavy axe and laying it on my own face. Each movement was heavily breathtaking, each breath a gasp.
i couldnt really understand my motive behind this action...Maybe I was too used to my family keeping tabs on me, monitoring every move, every breath, that even now, in this cramped little cabin, I couldn't relax. Or maybe… maybe I was still hiding from myself. but I couldn't understand why. Why was I covering my face? Why not just let my arm fall and let the tears do what they wanted? Why was I afraid of being seen, by me?
damn.... i am really tired of myself, spinning off to tell too much ...!!! What was I even saying earlier? let me read back what i was saying....
Ah, yes. yes yes.... so we were talking about the, "The peak of human desperation."
coming back to the original plot...
So there I was, arm pressed over my eyes like a blindfold, the weight of it making my eyes ache, the pressure making me dizzy, and I realized something really awkward and strange.
and that was ... I was smiling.
huh???? smiling? or crying? both??? seriously???
"Am I happy to cry?" I thought.
"Have I lost it?" I thought again.
No, that couldn't be. I was thinking, wasn't I? That meant I hadn't lost it. Not yet, at least.
And then… I started laughing.
Not just smiling; laughing. Hysterically.
As if someone had cracked a joke.
Well, honestly, someone had cracked a joke. Me.
Because, now that I think about it, I don't remember ever laughing at someone else's joke. I always laughed at my own. I think I've always had that clown vibe, a jester in my own circus.
A joke, to myself.
A joke, of myself.
Ugh. And here I go again, back into that vicious cycle of thinking.
ufff...
Anyway, back to the crying. Yes, me. A full-grown handsome man (you will again think i am self-obsessed right? well i will not leave any moments of praising myself where i deserve it okay! i seriously had inherited the good genes, though i had pretty much ruined them and hidden them in my messy flabbergasted lifestyle) sooo... me a full grown man, with a beard and a low, raspy voice (the kind that is usually in the night bed time stories app);
i think i enjoy irritating you with my sheer display of vanity and obsession... you see ... hahaha ... jokes aside ...
sooo ... inshort ... i was the kind of man society would call "capable," "in control," "strong," dependable," and "clear". and there I was, having hysterical attacks of crying and then sudden bursts of laughter, all because and only because I was too hungry. (the only thing going in my head was the grumbling of my stomach."
now you will say. i had some money !!! why i didnt use it?? why i didnt got something for myself???
because as i said earlier.... for money, I'd already decided not to waste it on mediocre mortal needs like food. Eating felt beneath me, somehow petty and somehow weak.
though my body totally disagreed, and actually mocked me for this chimerical plan.
And then....
I heard a sound.
A screech.
It was a rat.
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