I was in my room, sitting in front of my laptop, typing: "I was in my room, sitting in front of my laptop, typing. I was in my room, sitting in front of my laptop, typing…"
I was bored and depressed, regretting the many things I had done in the past. Even though I know nothing will change, it still manages to spoil my present. Maybe I'm just too lazy to do anything, but here I am, writing. This is so complicated.
I crave for someone to tell me it's alright and hug me tight.
I think I'd better sleep. Sleep seems to be the only thing that helps me forget my regrets. Maybe, just maybe, in a dream, I'll find someone. That's a big MAYBE, though.
I lay myself on the bed, closing my eyes and letting my body go limp like a puppet with cut strings. My thoughts drift as I fall asleep in a position where the first ray of sunlight will slap my butt. Maybe it's not the position—it's just that the sun has a wicked sense of humour. Or maybe the sun is gay.
What am I even writing?
The sun isn't gay he's in love with the moon (or moons). The loveliest scene is an eclipse, where they hug each other A union of day and night. A love story that's told in shadows and light. And then, they wait, patiently, for the next eclipse, for the next touch, the next meeting.
Science nerds would laugh at me for this, telling me the sun and moon are so far apart, and that the moon is insignificant compared to the sun. A mere dot. But I don't care. I like the way I think, That's my reality.
Yeah… it's kicking in… sleep.
Darkness creeps over my eyes. It feels like sitting in a movie theatre during the moments of silence before the film starts when the screen is black but full of possibilities.
zzzZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz…