You're an escape

I love it when its a thunderstorm, and you know that gloom to come.

I'm an overnight success story. I'm a size 36 to size 32. Remember how I confessed about wanting skinnies? I bought two pairs and lost more weight since.

I'm a dysfunctional body. Working against the natural process.

I'm on a deserved break, culminating from nights of thinking and working. But yet I'm adamant that my real break lies away from where I sit now. I feel heavy to motion. Hesitant still to make moves.

I'm hoping for rain, so I have a plausible reason to stay in.

I'm disgusted of the jail food I make to stay alive. But I know I'm hungry.

I'm glad to have found people I could share a common interest with at my institution. But doubtful still that anything substantial could me made out from it.

I'm missing home. But silently searching for signs that home misses me.

I'm in a position where cancer sticks are what keeps my blood flowing. But aware enough to know its what buries me.

I'm one to enjoy spontaneity. But when the opportunity becomes scarce, I wish things were planned out beforehand.

I'm enjoying the progression of things. But sceptical about the prospect.

I'm satisfied with wind in my face. But longing for it to blow me away.

I'm assuming its a placebo effect. But its too realistic to dispel that notion.

I love it when its marred by imperfections. But beautiful still.

I'm in a mire. But funny enough, I'm contented in here.

Jinn