All this will go into the museum of my memory, the mausoleum haunted by ghosts of dire pasts. I lie there, my heart numbed, each beat a whisper of a secret nobody knows, but so soft like transparent gauze - nobody knows it's there, and nobody's there to hear them. But the mind races with a hundred thousand dreams of what ifs - and a million maybes, frozen within the body unmoving, unable to react to the stimuli of hindsight, a billion chess moves ahead, but no way to use them.
I'm so stuck in a moment I could very well sell glue.
That being said, this is tehemoblog only because I've nobody to really whine to that hasn't heard the entire story before. So here it goes.
