Land of hope and glory.

ㅤㅤㅤ"Playing pretend is not healthy and I'm too old for that", he says to himself every morning, after getting up, and every night, before putting himself to sleep. ㅤㅤㅤIt's starting to weigh too much on his shoulders, too stressful to carry in silence, quiet. It's been this way for a few months and now it's only getting worse. He got used to have breakfast with at least one person mocking his ways or his grimaces -- it was annoying, but entertaining at the same time. And now he has nobody, nor has the willingness needed to search for it. ㅤㅤㅤTo get off of his loneliness took way too much time and once he threw it away, it felt like home. He thought he could handle it again with the same composure than eons before, but once he'd had the taste of something so sweet as some companions, being deprived "out of the blue" swept the ground below his feet. ㅤㅤㅤHe can deal with it, he surely can -- thank you very much. But it'll take time, effort and patience. And he doesn't have those at the moment, so he has to look for it elsewhere. ㅤㅤㅤThere's no package, no car's key or cellphone. Not even a letter left to inform what the fuck he is going to do. There's nothing. He wants to get some rest from everything and it'll be better if he does so without leaving a trace. It may seem selfish and maybe it is, but his intentions fly far away from wanting to worry someone -- even if said someone turn to be one of his neighbors. ㅤㅤㅤThere he goes. One step out of his house, door locked and the touch of the typical nocturnal weather for the season on his face, and he already starts to feel refreshed bit by bit. ㅤㅤㅤHe's just tired when he finally gets inside the taxi. He's just usually crabby when he mutters the name of a peaceful location. He's just feeling drained as he leaves his dear, sweet London with a sigh of relief. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIt's official: he's taking a break.