Tomorrow I set sail for Cambridge where I reunite with my other half in order to please her relatives who are visiting the United Kingdom assumingly for the first time. Finally out of London once more for a little bit of head-cleansing. For the couple of days it's either nothing or pain. All that's left standing is a bag of unfinished businesses, some responsibilities to get my bum around, and to find something which is less diabolical than an intellectual hikikomori on high.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.