The Border

I’m fighting myself not to go crazy over you. I’m in the border of insanity, unable to think straight and reflect reality. It’s those music and songs that keep pulling me away bit by bit. I found myself now just a step back before crossing that line. A moment, you said; be patient, you said; not that long, you said; words are surely effective weapon when promised.

I somehow understand what those junkie felt when they were in the very same border, wanting what they craved for life yet understand how the impact upon them when fulfilled. It’s not the same, but quite similar I must say. Craving for something yet unable to get one since situation made it felt wrong. The feeling of being bordered, forced to choose between stay put or crossing the line.

Currently in the position of still wanting, feels like being forced to cross the line and take the “don’t want at all” side. Fighting, to keep myself addicted, consciously decide to take that love drug and be a junkie one more time, is the only difference between me and a real junkie who should have decide to leave his drug and don’t want it at all for good.

Bordered, bored, tired, and alone…

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