Okay…

My mind is drawing scenarios like its on fire and my neurons a charcoal pencil scraping on the canvas of imagination. It’s horrible. The uncertainty is bloody horrible. Do I still have a chance? Does it even matter? That – will I even care whether I have a chance or not?

That’s why I think…

Nothing and nobody else can probably bring me to such extremes of emotion. That’s why.

Different universes, though. I don’t do…that. I can’t. I…well, probably I can. But it won’t be…sincere. Not that sincere.

But.

Anyway this is a usual symptom and will pass, as all other things do. I mean the symptom. Not the cause which has not abated for a year.

Where else? Still, my heart.