I guess... i guess there is always a moment when one badly wants to wine. He'd pour out whatever eats him from inside out, if only there was somebody around, at least distinctly close.
But of course there is noone, otherwise none of this would have been written.
..It has already happened before, like every time I move somewhere, I have this euphoria about the time and the place where I am. And I know the natural curve of this euphoria, yet again and again, I don't believe it, each time. I keep being in a dillusion that it'll never end.
And then it hits me, all of a sudden, in a sunny day, out of nowhere.
And I just know.
That the euphoria has just ended. Like a minute ago. Gone.
And I become particularly vulnerable to all the pictures from the past, to all the people from the past I even used to disregard. I feel love for my city, I fill a glass of wine. I fall into the pit of sadness and loneliness. Feel -> fill -> fall. Yes, this is the right sequence.
Just tired to stay positive, when most of the time, it's not who I am.