Lazy from C-Z

It was a timid reaction as I expected. Maybe some small bursts here and there, but in general the feeling overall was manageable. Perhaps as the days go by things will kind of mellow down a bit, but the expectation is less generous. I am unimaginably absent hype. The only thing that eats at me is the constant dread of the Ainhoa repercussions still. It never fades away. I would rather fade away. I have to do something important. But we all lose sight of the bigger picture. I miss Ainhoa, yes, and it is something I have to live with.

Missing the ultimate chance. Calm meditations penetrating my spine. He goes and goes calmly, unlike the day before. He goes and goes... his uproarious voice undulating high and low, the last high lower than the previous one. There is a sense of relief in the realisation that today was better than the previous ones. I can think on my own once again. It is merely the Friday boom, I call it. The fever of arriving at a snail's pace towards the weekend of broken promises. A moment of once again inhaling the suffocating solitude of the unattainable and the fantastical; the ainhoic razbliuto. A failed sense of security, worries of tomorrow that no person gives a toss about. He dreams of dreams that were never there. He calls out for names that float as ghosts in the periphery. He shall fail over and over and over again. I miss you , he whispers. I miss you . He flows and flows alone.

Should this creature of habit ever break his own tradition in order to graze the surface outside of the more commonplace hereditary proclivity, then the odds are that the potential hitherto will need be declined in place of a newer, more refreshed start. But starts, or restarts, are often so blasé. It happens so commonly, and every restart is just an attempt at the embellishment of the former self to make the new one embody a higher purpose, even if the chassis hardly ever changed and still the same old rusty shit that is bound to fall apart eventually, one way or another. What is truly needed is balance under observation. Losing all that matters is still a pathway forward. Nevertheless try not to think about it under the circumstances. The pain of losing again once all is already lost... I shudder to think. Particularly Dickensian. But that is all there is to it. What more needs be told? I am not in search for exit strategies, and this is not about second chances. I am way past all of

I had a deep surprise same day last year. Not much was happening then, only that work was eating me alive, giving me that mental beatdown that comes with the territory. It was frustrating, having to experience days of not-much-at-all. But she played a song for me. She who was always there back then. She who was most important to me. She misled me all day, giving hints here and there, of clues leading to her devious plan. I tucked my frustrations aside and she sang the song in one go. The best I have ever had. Not the voice, not the lyricism, but the intention, the relevance, the importance, the timing. It has surreal and sublime. And now I no longer remember a single word for it except "struggler".