"Si ventus non est, Remiga." - If there is no wind, row.

Click Click Click.
The mechanical clickings echo through the silent house.
It is 5:42 am. The clickings ring out into the distant dawn.
Daylight approaches. His typing accelerates. Furious and calculated; precise and concise.
The volta. Where is the volta.
Where is that critical anagnorisis?
Where is the elucidation that he has been searching for?
Oscillation... minature pendulums. Each swing, a gentle sway in the waves of time.
The procedures! He has forgotten. Embellished, shined clean.
Mirror's edge.
leimotif.
The eyes - they search blindly for a pattern.
A pattern of which to follow - to latch upon. To leech upon.
None meets the eye.
He persists.
Postulate.

Well... i've been re reading my old blog posts.
I've really changed. No more the innocent, carefree youth that i was.
Where everyday was a brand, new adventure. Where friends existed in abundance.
Where i felt truly alive.

It's 5:48 am. Im about to meet Natrisha in 5 hours time. I need sleep desperately.
But i did not sleep.
Recently, i've been oscillating back and forth between periods of encroaching hollowness
And enveloping flames; that which sets the soul on fire.
Literally. back and forth, the pendulum swings.
All the while, being acutely
And critically... alone.
Yes, i am unafraid.
Unafraid to admit that i'm feeling lonely. Call me weak. Call me pathatic. Call me a whole lot of things.
Dont worry, i've thought of worse.
I've came to the conclusion that... i have to take care of myself better.
See, i have, as told from the perspective from somebody who've experienced similar emotions
"Given and given... all i've got. Till there's nothing left."
That phrase struck me. It hit me like a bolt of lightning. A bolt of pure, unadulterated sadness.
A bolt that thrust me back into the realms of despondancy.

See, i've been there. Felt what he's felt. And i know, that as long as i shall live
Memories. Beautiful demons that haunt the sleeping subconscious. That thin facade that we construct for ourselves..to use to seperate moments of brilliance from lunatic insanity.

It's in me. i was there.

"I WAS COLD. I. I SAID I."

" Let X equal to all months cold. Let the months of September through November equal to winter. Let the months of September through November equal to cold. In the winter, the students go to bookshops to browse books. In the winter, the students are cold. As the number of books browsed approaches infinity, the cold approaches infinity. I am cold. I have never been so cold." 

The repetition. The patterns. The cages. It's all coming back.

I've thrust myself into this undesirable position. However, 53 days to go. Just as before, just 53 days to go. And im done. For good. For life. Forever.

Time to bathe and cleanse.

Time to undergo my obligatory  expurgation. 

God knows i've tried reaching out. But it seems... That others have not much left to give as well.

Perhaps i've been directing my efforts into the wrong channels.

Perhaps.... i should stake my soul into what's left.

Perhaps... i should reawaken and re forge old connections

Perhaps... i shall be the catalyst.

Look at these souls, whom anger has defeated.