Comfort

Somehow we as human beings always find something to comfort our instable emotions. Be it food, friends, alcohol, drugs, sex, music, the beach, or just anything which would help us feel better. I turn to f.r.i.e.n.d.s. Watching it over and over again never fail to cheer me up a lil'. It doesn't help solve my confusions, it doesn't help giving me directions which I need in life, it doesn't tell me what to do, it doesn't ask me anything. Yes, at times I turn to food for comfort. Emotional eater as some would say. But most of the time it doesn't comfort me at all, and instead makes me kill myself at the gym. Seriously, 1.5hrs of cardio and an hour session of yoga kills me enough. Comfort food only destroy the efforts I made. The chocolate coated digestives biscuit is 85 calories each. That's like, 12 minutes on the treadmill? Let's be honest. I don't eat only one biscuit at a time. At least four. You do the math. Okay that's not my point.

My blue has turned into the darkest gray. I think the cause of this phenomena is a pool with mixed emotions swimming in it. Confusions, worries, undecided paths, patience running out, everything. Sometimes I wish I'm not a volcano. I take in silently and "Nothing" is my best answer when asked, and when the time comes I just explode. I wanna be, a koala. Sit on a gum tree all day and get high on the gum leaves. So chill.

No amount of self help books can actually comfort me. No amount of bad calories can comfort me. No amount of hours watching f.r.i.e.n.d.s can comfort me. The only thing which could comfort me is the only thing I can't get to now. The only place I don't wanna go to. Because the only thing which could comfort me isn't always there. And the worst part is that he doesn't even know the existence of this.

Let's get stoned! Woohoo!

love, dreamer.