Blurred.

You lie on your bed and as you stare blankly at the open bathroom door, you realise seven after nine is not a good time to make all your struggles fall down. Well, no time is. You think it's so easy - shaking your head everytime whims or reveries detach you from realities. And perhaps it hasn't been that hard, really. Not until lately.

Because people are suddenly asking this question you know means more than what it does. People do the craziest things when you tell them what they want to hear, and you almost go crazy too. They spark the silliest hopes and stretch your tiny thoughts. And then all of you re left hanging. At least for now.

Because people say the most beautiful things when they're about to leave. They almost assure you what you've been doubting all the while and they only make you feel bad. And you don't exactly know why. You don't want to question timing and chances but those five words... Man, it's as if tables are being turned around that suddenly you're the one double-clicking your way into words. You almost think there's something that shouldn't be said unless asked about. Sometimes no matter how genuine it is, it brings no good. It puts you in limbo. You tiptoe on that thin line separating good feeling from not. But you'd like to think there would be no difference no matter where you choose to stumble. Because much, much later, things will all look the same. No matter how you feel right now, when right now becomes past, it wouldn't be any different than any other past nines. Or so you hope.

Because things are taking too long to fade away, people are taking too long to walk away. And you wonder if people have ever pondered on things as much as you do.

You try to cheer yourself up. You surround yourself with everything you have to do. Weird, but for the first time, you almost find comfort in inanimate stuff.