Boy, this is a viceral feeling. I was watching "After Life" netflix series, just because he did, and because I had started before I knew that. And on the acts moving on I was just trying to decypher what had enticed him to these series, as I recall he watched it in a roll, with no stopping. It was a week and two days I decided quitting the addiction of being in touch to him and there I am still completely into him, even against my will. This feeling is nothing I had experienced before, and that is what makes it similar to the others: each was nothing similar to the other.
I can easily observe how the wonder about what feelings mean have been shapping my biggest worries, my time. And yet, none of all this wondering has made me any better in managing them, I assume. Actually, the root cause that makes me wanna destroy them in a certain point of its development, is yet intact, I should say. So what is the use on so much wondering. I had done better learning coding or music, or both. It is ridiculous that I say that and yet I am here wondering again.
The guy was nothing especially devoted to me, nothing so different than the previous, I could even say even less devoted in certain way. But I can’t compare culturally distinct people. He, in his very Britishism, could not help but avoid showing the most warm feelings he had. A habit as useless than my tendency to wonder about feelings, and that I wish he won’t find out in the bitterness of his late age.
I am going to vanish someday. And so all the things I belived true or false. All my perspectives. We are so small in time and space, what could make us big and why would we be wanting that? Hm.
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