Schizophrenia

I woke up next to a beautiful twenty years old witch. She's twenty; twenty! — not even twenty-something. Lovely. I'd do it; yet it takes time. There's rules.

Few hours later, I'm enjoying time with my ex. I really do. Sadness fills me once she's gone. 'Cos I know she's gone. She's gone for good, even though I see her from time to time. I know, I know, I know.

Now, a third one's coming. I'm thinking fuckfest. I'm thinking fuckspree.

In fact, it looks like I'm not thinking at all.

Touchdown

Another week, another trip. The plane was packed, overhead lockers cramped, people nervous and disturbed. A rainy night. Maybe a bit windy, too. A baby was crying non-stop through the flight. Attendants were looking at each other, slightly strained. Nothing much happened but for few roller coaster dives. Air turbulence, they call it. Free-falling for a mere second here and there.

I stared in front of me, dumbstruck, somehow knowing it's all cool and safe, yet masochistically hoping for at least a crash landing.

Can't recall such a soft touchdown in ages. People were clapping and cheering when we landed.

Got wasted as soon as I got off the plane.

These two stories are totally unrelated, of course.