Forming Words, for starters

I never do literate my thoughts (not now, particularly), although they do give me an impression that they’re screaming for attention or at least a realisation into a tangible something that is heard, or seen, or acknowledged. One thing I can conclude now without a doubt is that I’ve gotten myself into a good entangled web of thoughts that I’ve never tried to — well, spin out with my mouth to at least organise one or two things into an understanding, at least for myself. 

Meanwhile I am physically nesting in Terminal Three, which I am almost overjoyed for, partly elated that I have Mom’s specific consent that I am indeed staying at the airport due to missing the last train, and possibly last buses too, but I wouldn’t bother to check (not that I did miss them on purpose, I just took for granted that they ‘usually ran till almost 11:45’).

More celebratory, that each time I am at the airport I’d simply be wishing upon wishes that I’d be able to stay here forever… until maybe I get a free boarding pass to somewhere, of course that would beat the airport-stay by a good deal, ha ha. The atmosphere can only suffice as the best explanation. Ironically, having the least of hopes in humanity and people in general (not blaming them/us, not taking a disliking toward them/us, but its part of that big web of entangled thoughts- so if I do disentangle I may get a systematic-worded reasoning), I’d say this atmosphere makes up of the good vibes of people, anticipating people, people with a destination, people discovering a destination, people with experiences, people illustrating experiences, people awaiting experiences; people meeting people, people missing people, people hugging people, people waving; in all these, happy people. I’d say there’s the slightest chance you’ll get a bad experience with people because of all the good mood in the airport.

Or am I mistaken? Just this afternoon I was at CBTL, reading; a lady who sat across me had a separate stool for her bag and was… taking a nap. In a while another lady, who was with friends, came to ask for the stool but was declined. Of course she couldn’t understand, your bag wouldn’t require a seat of its own, pardon you, so she insisted and triumphed. Unreasonable. She took to telling her friends rightaway, with a great deal of annoyance, barely having taken her seat. Bad exchange- I’d take it as an exception.

I still stand for the general happiness that goes on around here: I’m already feeling therapeutic from being able to express this much in this environment. It could be that, or- I’ve been reading The Fault in Our Stars by John Green for three days now.

1 hour and 30 minutes into this solitary state I’m feeing kind of panicky already because Mom says ‘you have to take care of your things when you to go to the toilet’, and, speaking about Mom, I am as concerned she might fume trying to reach me while my phone is off- of course I don’t have my charger, being partially unprepared…

I get so much of what she (the narrator, Hazel Grace Lancaster) says/thinks, that so many of her ‘depressing’ opinions are what I have gone through, too, and of which her best/boyfriend has similar levels of understanding of (not to leave out how quite charming and attractive I think he is) so much so that I just want to cry from the whole situation of two people having equal understanding of each other’s emotional and intellectual position. And I’d wish so much to just have one person be that. It was the same for Perks, too, Sam and Patrick being my two ideal best friends that there was a mutual understanding of one another’s state of mind, even without talk. Of course, in reality I’d say a communication would be essential for that to happen, which, I have myself to blame for gradually being reclusive to even people I was close with for a longer time. Or perhaps I haven’t before, given in to them emotionally to begin with.

I suppose I’ve gone past the stage of pushing away emotions because I can basically feel choked up at any situation right now- not that I was aware of a transition between stages, but  I was with the understanding that I get my bad days of overwhelming, disorganised thoughts of opinions of feelings of analysing and processing things in a very pragmatic manner and still not feel teary-eyed from all of it.

Right now I feel like a laughable cat from making so much fuss and emphasis on the outline of the Entangled Web of Thoughts and yet not touched any content of it. In another therapeutic state and a rush of emotions I will get on to it. Meanwhile I continue my happy virtual trip in Amsterdam (god, just get me out of this place already!) with Hazel Grace (and boy how much I love how Gus makes a point to call her that way) and Augustus.

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