As the monthly pain rips through my lower abdomen I find myself craving intelligent coversation. A tête-à-tête, or dialogue if you will, filled with well thought through arguments where both participants feel the need to prove their point and, at the same time, crave the answers that only the other holds. I dream of an hour or two filled with articulate comments even about the most trivial things, and perhaps even the things we do not believe in. Of fairies and sirens and the most complex of literature. Of the gods of old, and of cakes with a sugary icing. Of anything and everything and I would be happy.
Unfortunately, there are only so many people in the world which can provide such a wonderous discussion and, at the moment, they, as well as time, seems to be slipping out of reach. The stress is slowly creeping up behind me, ready to swallow me whole as soon as I do not expect it. Toughts of what to do and when to do it are prominent in my mind and I find myself unable to decide. It is like a heartless is hiding somewhere in the dark corners of my room, draining all of mine energy and motivation, leaving me empty and lonely. I would wish for more time but it would be without use for I have no timeturner, nor do I have a timemachine that could provide the extra minutes, hours or years needed to decide.
So instead I do what I can to try to be happy, even for the briefest of moments. And now I shall have some cake to lighten my mood.