He sits on his bed, listen to radiohead, typing a prose. He tries to forget, but doesn’t seem to be able to. He plays the guitar, and for a moment he is able to soothe himself temporarily. He drinks alcohol, but it doesn’t seem to help. He thinks about work, but gets caught up with the moments. He does not care much, but he seeks the assurance that was given with regards to friendship.
He dreams about it. It haunts him daily. He tries to find a distraction, there do not seem to be any. He wished to let it out, but nobody would hear him. He wants to cry out loud, but no tears flow. He suppresses himself. He holds back. He wishes he could run away, away from all these problems.
If he could turn back time, he would wind back to the day he was born, and start everything anew. Experiences has left him cynical, like the catcher in the rye. All others appear superficial to him. Would he be able to find the chapter 27?
How can he forget? When can he be free? He doesn’t know. He wished he had the answers, but sometimes the truth hurts just as much.
