Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Chocolates and the minor relapse

In the office:

I ordered file trays for Fred the other day, and when they came in yesterday, I placed them on his desk. Today, he thanks me twice and, at around 1440, walks over and hands me chocolate as a token of appreciation. This, I think, is sweet. Not all colleagues show their appreciation, even in the smallest of gestures.

I can't eat the chocolate.

It is the life and death of me.

In my head:

Chocolate is like LL. He was the life and death of me. At some point in time, I don't remember when anymore, my whole world revolved around him. Everything in my life was altered to suit his/our needs as a "couple" (for the end-part, kinda-sorta couple). Nearing the end of the rope, I thought I would die of schizophrenia.

It's scary how one person can have this affect on you. One person in your circle of living can make one false, misunderstood move. That's all it would take to push you over the edge, or to the darkest corner of your room where you could curl up and die of heartache, where you'd rather disappear in the shadows.

One person.

I'm glad that I got bored of that corner of my room. Apparently, I wasn't schizophrenic, and I wasn't going to perish. I grew weary of the fetal position and the puffy eyes and the mental anguish. I finally crawled out of my comfort zone and walked away from it all. Of course, it wasn't that easy. I had the help of the good Lord, Who gently tapped me upside the head. For the most part, I endured it unscathed.

Maybe a little bit of chocolate won't be so bad.

We all gotta live some time.

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