Sometimes, I get sleepy. So sleepy, that lying down on the bed and surrendering to the bliss of slumber is the only thing I have strength left for.
Sometimes, I get hungry. So hungry, that even onions seem delicious, and I can’t stop eating onions till my breath starts to smell enough to make me sick.
Sometimes, I like to stare into space. Just stare, and dream, building castles in the air and destroying them just as quickly.
Sometimes, I like to walk. I walk and walk and walk till my feet ache and I forgot where I came from. The only thing keeping me going is the assurance that there’s really nowhere to go to.
Sometimes, I like to talk. I call up every friend I know, and ask them questions about Life, the Universe and Everything.
Sometimes, I like being alone. I lie to my friends who want me to go for a night out because I just want some time to myself.
Sometimes, I feel lazy. So lazy, that I skip meals, refuse to bathe, socialize or do anything remotely human, because being a cushion is so much better.
Sometimes, I feel scared. I hurry through the dark corridors of my home, hating my tiny bladder that forced me to wake up in the middle of the night and wander the corners of my house that are cozy during the day but sinister once the lights are out.
Sometimes I cry. I cry because I am hurt, I cry when I’m angry, I cry when I feel lonely and I cry for no reason at all.
Sometimes, there is no reason for my actions, no plausibility for the way I behave.
Sometimes, the only way out is by going back and undoing everything.
Sometimes the only way to feel again is by making myself care lesser.