This vagrant heart of mine, added up this killing toothache, I am afraid that I wouldn't last long in this season. The weatherman has been predicting the snow expected on Wednesday, my first "reality snow" so to speak. I tossed and turn all night; the decaying tooth (or teeth) was like a berating voice and touch for my overeating the desserts like brownies I made myself. Hate the look of me in the mirror, yet could not bear the idea of bed-ridden, even for just one day.
The altercation between reality and ideal is actually taunting me and tearing me apart. What to carry on so that I may be at least productive and supportive? What can be the turn and the possible detour that I may end up doing with passion and repulsion? I am this close to the edge of insanity, torn by handreds of ideas and diverse oppinions coming from everywhere, but I see no end nor light.