Quiet Time

It's always the odd hours of the day that's hardest to go through. The rest of the world is asleep, there's no hustle and bustle of activity to distract you, you're all alone with your thoughts.

And it's inevitable to introspect and analyse, and try to figure out what went wrong. Demons come out during these hours when you're alone in bed, and you question yourself, your worth, your ability to love and make another person happy. You recount past conversations and incidences, and try psychoanalyse your own personality.

I know I have issues, especially trust issues, and I know I have to deal with them or this will just be a cycle that repeats itself. Part of me wants to run to the grasshopper and say, "Please wait for me while I sort these out because I love you and want to be with you!". A desperate cry, clinging on.

But it takes two hands to clap. And there were obviously more than one problem that we had.

It's only the start of Day 3 and I'm impatient for the nauseating feeling in the pits of my stomach to go away. Perhaps it's this rush to want to heal and get better and have all this pain taken away, that's making my mind jump to all sorts of crazy scenarios of calling the grasshopper and pleading with him to make it all work out. (Or perhaps this is just natural.)

I'm scared. Yesterday I had the advantage of walking around in a dulled and zombified frame of mind, thanks to the three hours of sleep I got the night before. Today, I have the challenge of going through the day with my mind well rested. I don't want to know what thoughts will creep in.

But baby steps. I've been through heartbreak before. One deep breath at a time.