The season brings only so much joy, yet here I am, trading hearty laughter for awkward silence over an empty cup of coffee. My overactive disposition has dragged me to the edge of what limits may permit.
The intensity of my booming happiness can only be parred by an agelast. And in that moment, I am drained by every little nod, every empty stare, every little thing that makes me want to hurl a seat and call it a night. Annoying? yes, but tolerance is something to be developed, so who am I to complain?
I approve of neither schadenfreude nor masochism, yet it is needless to say that I can be a little of both when in the mood. The flame must go out sometime, but the weather is too cold to risk my sanity. In time I shall collect the ashes and... draw a graffiti or something.
For whatever the season may bring me, here's a toast. *clinkchugulp*
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