This morning changed a few things. Some more substantial, others less, though all in all it does make a difference significant or not. Perhaps making 2 trays of cheesecake at one in the morning, then realising it can be consumed only the next day, does help to straighten out one's perspectives somehow. Sometimes I find the weirdest of times to process the insides of my brain, like in the midst of a mosh but usually it's small triggers through words from the wise and rather occasionally, from the not so wise, that strike like a trainwreck. It's easy you know. You look at the people around you, sort out your insides, pretend you have some space, pick out the pieces you stole from them, drop it in, duplicate, lock shift and release.


Thing is, I'm just realising how freaking fantastic I really am at detaching and attaching feelings for anyone from second to second. I would like you to genuinely believe me; that this is a skill to have, not a problem. Because every night is something different, and I'm grateful for it, as repetition isn't quite something I'd enjoy; it being one which triggers boredom which then translates to dissatisfaction. At least for me, personally. On the other hand, some reliability is pleasurable I guess, at least for the sake of one's sanity and reassurance. Somewhere to lay your head at night, something you can rely on. But to contradict myself, once and again, if there is one thing I'm good at, I'm not sure whether any level of comfort can be achieved sans repetition as the notion of it co-exists with any level of consistency which is where one almost always finds comfort. Almost always, I'd say. Because perhaps there might be some who'd find comfort in inconsistency?