Schnydrome

If immediate surges were the source of my strength for the commitments I have had to deal with my life, every other real living moment must have been orgasmic (sorry couldnt help the exaggeration) encounters with blissful deceit. I can now feel the familiarity creeping back in because life is about to settle back into that sort of routine.. The sort of routine that makes me squeeze my eyes so tight I let tears that are due to fall later on in my life down my tired, wrinkled, taut cheeks. But it doesnt mean I cry lesser the next time round. Its happening already, sometimes the strange sensation makes me jolt because that impending emotion is so real I cannot bear but stare back at it in silence. Moments get so real these days. Every string of the sentence you put together in a paragraph of a speech you just delivered to someone becomes startlingly stupid. And suddenly you realize that this aint some sort of illusion, you are actually really really quite real. Why waste time now talking anymore? Why waste time standing around? We should stay awake for as long as possible in these kind of dreams, the sort which lets you choose to refuse growing, to reject waking up.