||Routine..

I stare at the words in front of me that I've highlighted but failed to comprehend. I know this is important but my brain cannot fathom why. Instead, it takes its voluntary infamous trips to the past, it digs out memories I hate but those that define me. These memories are like popups, my brain has this ability to find out things that would trigger my current state - statements from the past, feelings from the archives. Maybe everyone is like that, maybe that's how they punish themselves, for what though, I fail to understand.

My laptop is at 2%, I am too lazy to find the charger. I want to curl up and sleep. But I also want to think about that one time when I said I could never compare to her because she was too beautiful. "So pretty he can't take his eyes off her", is what I believe I'd said. And apparently, at 1 am in the morning, this is what I want to think about.

"But let's not talk about such things okay?" Okay. But how do I tell that to my evil friend that resides beneath my skull? How do I explain to it that closure is but just a concept. It is not tangible. You probably will never even attain it. Because what's the point? At 2 am in the morning, the popup would still repeat that statement even if he didn't want to talk about it. Because apparently, I still want to.

"We're just friends." That one hurt the most. They're all pretty. Each of them. They just "hang out" with people you care about. And then the people you care about fall. Hard. Unfortunately though, not for you. Even if they claim they do.

"You were not supposed to break the promise." Yes, I wasn't. You were not supposed to break my heart. Over and over and over again. At 3 am in the morning, I'm worried about a busy day ahead but also about the things that still haunt my train of thought. I dread the nightmares, I dread the comfort in your voice and I dread the smiling faces I do not trust.

At 4 am in the morning, I miss my friends, all of them. I miss the one I spent my childhood understanding and then my teenage coming to terms with. I miss the one I lost to a pair of pretty eyes. I miss the one that has seen me through my worst nightmares. I miss the ones that understood, the ones that empathised, and cared. Just enough, not too much.

At 5 am in the morning, I doze off. Only to find myself in an endless ocean, I am drowning. He won't throw the life boat, because I broke the promise. I can't come out of it. The dream, nor the reality. I look on as water fills my lungs and pulls me under, lulls me deeper.

At 8 am in the morning, it's a new day. I smile at the possibilities. The devil is dormant after the torture, it won't appear until it's dark again. At 9 am in the morning, I am a happy, healthy child, doing what she wants to do, working towards what she wants to be, dreading when it will be midnight again. The chariot won't disappear. Her sanity will.