The world underneath the desk

Most of my friends think I’m crazy. I’m not sure if it’s good crazy or bad crazy. But they would usually associate every, if not most, possible subjects to my craziness. I.e.

  • small circle of friends because I’m too crazy to deal with
  • single because no guys should deserve handling cray-cray
  • I’m crazy because I work 7 days a week and spend other possible spare time doing things
  • last minute/unplanned getaway? Crazy.

and the list keeps going.

 

Well, guess what. I have this little crazy, rather weird, habit. I like to be confined and left alone when I am feeling drained. And hopeless.

Or just any dark emotions.

I never have pillow or blanket fortress like The Community. I think that would be more fun – and definitely more comfortable – than falling asleep under the table with traces of dried up tears.

Sometimes, in the wardrobe.

Alright, I must now stop sniffling and rambling underneath my desk.

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