I skipped class for the nth time. My reason. The usual. I overslept.
And so i go to my haven, the only place I can think in when my mind's filled with guilt and, well, unhappy thoughts. There, i slouched on my favorite seat with my hands embracing a warm mug of mochanated coffee. I was alone. Just me and my mug, which, in about five minutes, started to burn my palm.
I went there to unstash my guilt, I thought. And thus far, i was being effective. The blankness of my mind was an antiseptic for the loneliness and stress that was me the past few weeks. The pains slowly went away. A horrible recit the day before, a petty fight that ended in unshed tears, backlogs in work and school, the final goodbye of a college friend which i turned a deaf ear on, his laugh I will never hear again.
In that place, there was no pain nor happiness. There was just that mug which burned my palms and I.
