Every time I get a blister or something like that where there’s this liquid under my skin and it’s swelling and I can’t squeeze it out I just feel like taking a needle and piercing through that layer of skin and watching it ooze out like a lazy person getting out of bed.
Don’t you?
Mmmmm.
Third Eye Blind: wonderful, wonderful music. Timeless, catchy, and drug induced, I’m assuming - but beautiful. It makes me want to go to that really nice place that they get to go to. I’m living in a mirror, they get to be holograms.
The sky was gold, it was rose
I was taking sips of it through my nose
And I wish I could get back there
Someplace back there, in the place we used to start
How do you put everything in words, when words seem to have been stuck somewhere while travelling from your intestines to your brain?Words come from the books you eat.
Now how about going through an entire spectrum of emoticons within a split second? Or maybe putting yourself up at some temperate country when you’re from the tropics, that could be it. You may need a hell of a wardrobe to adjust to the weather there, but it’s all worth it because you get to enjoy snow.
Snow, so different from taking Styrofoam boxes apart.
Snow, coming from someone who gets sick all the time here, yet rarely where it’s cold in the nights and early mornings. Maybe she’s allergic to Styrofoam, maybe it’s the never ending hail of dust bunnies in my room that I carry out with me. Whatever it is, she sure is cute when she’s got that oddly-pitched voice when she’s down with something.
Maybe it’s the sand across the road from her place, maybe it’s the room that never gets its air changed - that could be it.
I should suck a lungful of air before I enter the room every time, it’ll either help or worsen things. No harm trying, though - no harm for me anyway. My breath is therapeutic(humour me on this one).
I like it when it snows, here. It makes me want it to snow for a long, long time.
It’s sad how we’re all so in too deep, that no government dares to undo any of it, no government dares to connect the economical beauty of some industries to the ugly of their births, no government dares to break away from the connection that has been forced upon them for fear of simply breaking away, from being isolated.
Despite all the reforms and changes that they proclaim to be able to achieve, no government dares erase the invisible disturbia that we ourselves have created, and pretend not to see.
It’s sad how even as most of us realize it, we all wish we never did, and our brains tell ourselves not to get involved in any of it - someone else will; there will be someone else who will, someone who will spend his or her life trying to erase all that only to see little change at the end of it - and it will not be me.
Sometimes the decisions we make are fueled by our emotions, and there are the occasional ones where while made rashly, does not equate to regrettable choices.
Money, hierarchy, power hunger, treating people as tools, treating animals as tools, breach of trust, childish behaviours, premature yet concrete judgments, facades, emotional abuse, ignorance, bias, judgments, judgments, judgments. judgments.
At that moment, I knew I was free. If only for the time being - I know that this is present almost everywhere - but for now, I am free.
We were all better off as nomads, but it was fun while it lasted.
…
Now all I think of is the chicken in the small, cramped cage, who will never see anything else except for what it can from there, except for the people who walk by, oblivious of its existence, except for the rain that wets it and makes it shiver from cold, except for the knife that will kill it when its time comes to be replaced, again and again and again and again.
What a beautiful environment, what amazing animals, what a well-scripted show; the tourists all say.
In the night when you look out the window it’s as if there were stars on the ground. If you weren’t wearing glasses you wouldn’t be able to see the stars in the sky, then you’d be wondering how they all fell onto the landscape in front of you. Orbs of light that you could barely make out; so dim, they look so dim - are they dying or about to be reborn?
A short reacquainting session with the olive green bottle on the shelf, and all open thoughts are settled for the night.
Hush, baby hush
It’s just the wind
Haircuts are a boon to society in general, they shape newfound familiarity into our heads and give us the amusement of watching the dead cells race to grow longer than each other only to get cut shorter; the one who was leading may become the shortest, but the victory was fun while it lasted.
I am not society in general: I find more comfort in watching my hair grow away from the style my hair is cut in, rather than the haircut itself.
Do I really blog about nothing? My, my, how could that be possible.
And as the droplet of water falls onto the earth few would stop to wonder when it started falling, and how.
Nothing can be more atrocious than Nasi Lemak without its Chili sauce.
Nothing.
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