It doesn’t hurt at all, not anymore.
So what am I supposed to think about now that I’m at peace with whatever it is that I am at peace with? Like empty, a shell, void of any emotions. Took me long enough. Imagine, if it was something deeper, I swear, I would die being completely and utterly alone. And if criteria raised to tall dark handsome plus virtuous traits, dammit, I’ll die being a nun. Lucky like ugly and bad.
Life now is reading materials. I need to balance my life with some play. Sounds damn weird right? It’s the first time in my life that it’s this way. To insert play into work… well, its a good start I hope. Maybe I should start partying. But I know that once I’ll start, I’ll never be able to stop. Hmm.