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sighted cat, sank same

If that cat was me and I had been sighted by oppressive sorrow, then I was indeed sunk. 


I don't sleep restfully anymore for fear of dreams that leave me more distressed and hopeless than consciousness. In fact, I would rather not dream at all. See: losing the ability to dream in color. 

I don't want anyone other than 顺子 to talk to me for more than two minutes at a time. When he leaves for his summer camps this month, there is no saying what I will degenerate into. Heaven forbid my mother tries to start another stilted and repetitive conversation with me. Only the good lord knows what I might not say next. But, no talk of the good lord or heaven because thinking about spirituality makes my head and heart ache.

I don't look forward to my birthday anymore because I cannot remember the taste of that expectation.

I can't - or don't? - cry as often as I used to, which might seem to be an improvement, but I don't dislike crying. When I do cry now, I am unsure for whom do I cry.

I have no expectations for my near and distant future.

I do not know if I would rather time stand still for me or if I should cease to be moved by time. 

Melancholia Part Two

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