marla singer

i am xihomara's emotional and existential crisis... emotional and existential crisis haunt me every now and then. however, this time it was different, considering i was not alone (like most of the times they pay me a visit) and i had pms. all these questions kept bouncing inside my head. you know, are you really doing what you want to do? are you where you want to be? is it really worth it? are you happy? why aren't you happy? where would you rather be? would you really be better off there? do you belong here (and now)?

they all kept coming and going, leaving me shattered, confused and feeling so out of place, i could barely breathe. i had this feeling you get when you walk into a room and forgot why you walked into it in the first place. i guess i was being questioned by my very own tyler durden. tyler and my pms were really getting a kick out of my emotional collapse and i had no choice but to give in. next thing i knew, i was thinking about my tumor. yes, my marla singer. "the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can't". all the trouble marla brings into my life seems not enough to "her", and manages to always bring more my way.

i standed in disarray with my abused and baffled head, feeling as if i were some kind of beheaded chicken's body running around and bouncing against everything just after it's unfortunate fate. marla. even if i tried, it wouldn't leave my head. after all, the cause (and probably the solution) of everything going on inside me, was his fault. i think, deep inside, i kind of wish i could save him, wondering if it would give me some inner peace, thus, saving a part of me. it's hard having him haunting my thoughts all the time, showing up once in a while to shake up my emotions and leaving as nonchalant as he tends to be, always saying the right thing. marla. it won't leave my head. in the end, i guess i can't stop thinking about that moment when all those buildings come crashing down in slow motion right in front of us, and all there is left is marla and i. tyler really did his homework this time. and what do you know, maybe for me, this time "pms" stands for "pondering (about) marla singer"...

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