A beer and a cheerleading in my second home and when I forget what I am, and I'm not. I forget my week of stress, and examinations, and suspense, and laboratory practice, and running, always running back and forth and never get anywhere like I've always been moving in circles but without going back even to the point of departure.
There, wrapped by my people, I lose track of space and the concept of responsibility, and short-term memory, and missed calls, shoelaces, the weights off and the shifter. Jealousy has no glue and morning sky will not fall on our heads.
I forget the boss I made an attempt to threaten the first day of work - failed, of course, because it is far from having guns to threaten me properly - I miss the "touched" and "sunken" and for a moment I do not care and not war and peace matters.
And I fall into that state of melancholy finicky, in that false sense of peace, in that false "Tout va bien" that to me does not really mean anything but "Everything is collapsing around me, everything burns and flames are beginning to caress my bare feet, but I feel good about it "
Image: ~ wstfgl
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