Days, Daze, Days, Daze

Perhaps it is only deserving that I've fallen into a pit full of uncontented days. After being caught and whatnot, talks here and there and disappointments thrown on my face again and again, my mind has transformed into a dry well.

Warnings turned to deaf ears, suspicious lurking eyes avoided and finally, caught red-handed, face flushed and chills running down my spine again and again.

I know what I've done and I was sure I could get away with it.

WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG.

A prayer won't work. I deserve this.

Bye bye sensibility, respect and self-love.

How now brown cow?

The mind strays when I see words not mine filling up the space.

Week after week, I've tried my luck to maintain that contentment I've gained and yet week after week, I worry it'll all be in ruins. And today, today is the day that has karma befallen on me. I've lost all that I had.

And for my folly, nobody should leave...

I should.

Haha fuck the happy pill.

You look at the clouds and the seas and that measly patch of grass. They sway gently with the wind, all within space and time. And us? We're all alone, alone together in this earthly economical mess that we seek to rectify with time. With hands clutched together, we pray for a better tomorrow. A tomorrow that I wish will never come. Lying there, looking at that Macdonalds happy meal toy, would you ever bother to think about tomorrow?

What happen to live fast and die young? It seems like everyday we try to prolong our lives with presumably elixir pills and the obnoxious vapid workouts we sink ourselves into. What's the point of living when we are dispensable to the world. There wasn't and won't be a goal set for any of us. We assume, we presume, we will make a fool out of ourselves and in the end we will still die feeling sad and in solitude.

Every time you say "say something nice", I'll be at a lost for words. My thoughts empty out and I am dumbfounded, flabbergasted, speechless. My mind runs busy, trying to look for the right words, trying to form sentences that are grammatically and logically correct. It's like a string of mess trying to straighten out itself. And in the end, I can only come out with something too obvious to the world, to you and to me.

With no fanfare, no metaphors, no alliterations nor any fine vocabulary to beautify my speech; I can only reply, "you're very nice".

But that doesn't mean I have that little to say.

I have so much to say. So much that it's bursting at the brims of the little huge container of What-I-Want-To-Say-To-You that I keep, hidden and stashed into my little invisible magical pocket. But those words are like hawkers of a busy street night market, trying to outshout each other, trying to outshine, to impress.

But don't you worry, for there never will be a day when I tell you "you're not nice anymore".

You're my "nice" person.

The secrets that underlie the crooks and crannies of our skin digs deeper and deeper. The cynical dark facts of life that remains deep under the mud and grass slowly creeps up like vines that entwines and spiral into a destructive tornado that dismisses the worth of it all. They whisper, softly but clearly, with vile intentions that should not be talked about, for the leaves that rustle along the wind listens to what we feel. The cold sad days of life will never be forgotten for they are dirty linen that have been left to the public eye to examine. With cold blank gazes, they focus on the dirt and grime, trying to churn up a recipe of manipulation to kill, kill, kill. We were once happy, with only favourable comments for each other. And not long after, we got sick. Sick of all the positivity that revolved around us. All the hypocritical smiles and laughter we all share. The bacteria attacked our minds. Dirty and unworthy, unrepentant and ashamed, a burden and a liability, is that what we all are now?

I'm starting to think so.

And soon, we will be sick of the negativity and all the exaggerated lies we live with.

What then?

The room turns a darker blue, the screen a little more blinding. Thats when I know the sun has set, that night has settled into its comfortable usual spot. All alone in this room, bare and cold, empty and distant. Oneself, filled with desires uncertain of its intend. A little spaced out, a little dazed. And here I am creating, framing, shaping.

For here, a man is created to judge, to abuse, to slander, to humiliate, to hurt. A man full of knowledge and inspiration. A man with a quick temper and a stone cold heart. A man who wounds without a flinch. Did I create this great man to keep a tight rein on me or did God bestow me this man to protect me from life? A figment of my imagination that I conjured up to torment myself with, to have perilous situations to deal with, is that it?

I don't know.

A tug on the string, a pull from underneath. Like a white dwarf transforming into a black hole, an enigma is formed. A labyrinth lies ahead, and I know nothing that affirms anything. How do I keep my feet from being repeatedly washed away? How do I prevent them from dissipating and being lugged along with the sand along the ocean bed? I feel the cold, I feel the warmth. I hear every distinctive noise; the cracking of dead, dried leaves, the wind howling with no sense of rhythm or tune, the voices of people trying to be heard. I hear things, but how do I respond?

I watch the juices of the strawberry trickle down, from the knife down to the chopping board. It leaves a coat of red as it slowly spreads, flowing endlessly and precariously. It doesn't lose its direction. It wavers from path to path, sure of its route. How can they be in pieces and not feel the need to cry or yelp in pain? Why can't they wince away from the hurt and torture? How can they take the torment and the following public display of the array of mistakes they have made?

Time is my nemesis. Time is taking everything away from me. I can't even look on helplessly. It's as if I deserved it. The omnipotence of time is overwhelming my heart from beating. It's clutching tightly onto my veins, ever so reluctant to relieve me of any deliverance. What should I do when helpless is all I can be? I can only watch the puddle grow and yet it doesn't bring about aid. The atmosphere is not soaking it up, the air is still musky and dry. Why isn't anything helping? Where is mother nature?

Deliverance; relieve me of the insanity.

The road stretches on towards the horizon. I wish it was never-ending, for then the bus can ride on forever and I never have to lift a muscle to get out of the bus. I will sit and watch the lines of the road strive on for eternity, and watch the grass come in stripes of green and brown, forever a blur. If everything is a blur, nothing will be clear. If nothing is clear, there won't be any black and white. We will live in shades of grey, with no clear love and hate. How will the world revolve in such a state? Will Pluto be big enough to be called a planet again? Will motivation finally find me or will I have to dig endlessly into my wardrobe for it again?

So much to spill, so much to hide. How long more before it travels to you? I'm petrified of tomorrow and of yesterday. What should I do when I can't have.. this? It's like losing my mind into a sea of rhyming words that makes no sense. They float and dispense out and transform into a soliloquy and float into the atmosphere, into the blank spaces of.. space. Who will fill the void?

A day can be so wearying and yet it never takes up much of our time. The days pass by, with us in a daze, walking in a maze. And very soon, 10 years will pass us by. One day I hope, as I stare out of the window into the wretched world, something will come and take me away and save me from the motion sickness and the noise pollution and the musky air lingering above my head. How very sickening to watch death dawdle in front, and us, being unsure of its presence. Come take me away, my dear. And yet you won't, just cause you can't. Do you remember, when life was mellow and how we all used to sink our hearts deep into the day, engulfing ourselves with warmth and desire?

Nothing really makes any sense, except for each passing day, I know I've completed my task of struggling to survive, to garner enough courage to set foot into the next day. It's so pressing to only have 24 hours to think, to make a choice.

Why won't time give up on us?

Do you know how idyllic our lives can be, if we sleep in strawberry fields, smothered in its sweetness, in its rich deep red colour?

Very idyllic.

Every night I toss and turn, toss and turn like how you toss your salad and feel like I'm dying soon. As if I already have one foot into another dimension filled with unearthly haunting thoughts that go astray quicker than it develops. Every night, I step into it, inch by inch, with each breathtaking breath. Obnoxious multi coloured fruity pebbles that rains down the sky feels my eyes. A whiff I take, and I find it so, so appalling.

What now?

I'm so upset I lost bangles not worth losing.

:(

Another few more weeks before school starts. Sorry if I just burst your bubble. Quite sad if your life's like the economy. We should blow more bubbles and pop will go the weasel.

It's sad seeing people sad and it makes others sadder to see you sad and in the end, everybody's sad. Troubled ties that bind and money issues that ensues year after year. They never go away. They rant and they whine. They shout and they fight. Confrontations after confrontations. Lending too many listening ears. No more ears.

Watching what you do, watching what she always does. It doesn't click. Extreme ends of perspectives. Why bother sharing of what you think of each other? Does it really matter if you managed to garner more people to your side to agree with your point of view? Isn't it a bother to cry and whine and have tears well up in your eyes to attain such little hypocritical sympathy from people all around you?

Share, share, share; I'm not a carebear. I don't even know what carebears do. I'll throw flowers at you all and you will watch them wither and dissipate in front of your very eyes. Only then will you realise how this relationship is wilting.

We are all very pathetic people, stuck with problems we try to avoid. Avoidance is not the key to living, though denial is. But still..

This sounds sad, but actually I'm ecstatic, for today I will be away. For today will be different. For tomorrow will still be a Wednesday and for time who will never stop cause we are not that important after all, for importance lies in your heart where you have secret priorities to do and fulfill. Secrets that pokes your heart with a minuscule needle. It starts tearing and you start tearing. And you start wondering, where do all the tears go? Do we all drink them up and tear them back to nature?

Thrilling is later! Yay.

What if one day you woke up and you realised everything was the opposite?
What if one day you woke up and left became right?
What if one day you woke up and realised gravity is pulling us apart?
What if one day you woke up and you realised you weren't living?
What if one day you woke up and nobody loves you anymore?
What if one day you woke up and cotton wool weren't what they used to be?
What if one day you woke up and realised you loved someone too much?
What if one day you woke up and nothing's changed?

I'll snooze my alarm for another 5 minutes and see what happens then.
What would you do?

I'm in an euphoric state right now. And it's not that I had to wake up at 8 a.m. to get the class I want this morning, it's not because of the humdrum 2 weeks that we all just went through, neither is it cause of the strong winds that caused my windows to rattle like a baby's toy or the rain pattering through my drowsy state of mind.

It's just cause it's Friday.

Friday and surprises never cease to excite everybody and you and me.

Dreary bright and sunny days filled with fatigue and annoyance. Annoying two weeks without company, without bright and meaningless conversations. Instead, they have been spent on working the ass out of my life, trying to earn the measly amount to splurge on pointless materialistic items that depreciates by each use. Pointless baby, life is pointless if it goes on like that. I can't see myself anywhere in the future, or in the present either. Lets all fade to nothingness and watch the remnants fill the cold void space of time of eternity. Lets watch Sundays pass by with no hint of Monday blues. Lets devoid ourselves of feelings and watch relationships turn stagnant and hypocritical. The zest of life is lost as the earth revolves. I need a rinse and a new lease of life. A life of perfection and charm that will never have to face failure ever again.

It's never appealing to look forward over and over again; forwarding towards the fear and tension that ties my veins with strain. And yet, I look forward as if I never did before.

The weather is too hot. I need a good sleep, like being put under general anesthesia again.

Separation is very annoying. Apparently, annoyance is not bliss. Do you know how annoying that is?

Damn annoying. That is, if you didn't know.

Not a hint of swelling on the cheeks, not a taste of blood. The expected pain I predicted came to be naught. The horror stories I've read and heard over the past week. The after effects were so foreseeable, so anticipated.. but where is the pain? No pain? Then what am I gaining? I lost over an hour of my life in deep sleep when it only felt like five minutes. Sleeping with the help of general anesthesia was one of the best sleep I've ever had. I couldn't trade my soul for my wisdom teeth, for they're all now under the ground of our feet, floating away in some pipe, waiting to decay.. which will take forever. Forever to be destroyed, destroyed forever.

The scorching sun is probably burning you and me. Please don't ever ever melt. I want to be out, not alone. No wait, I can't be out. My cheeks are supposed to be swollen, but, but they're not. I should be out. I have no reason to be out. I am cooped up at home, bored. Everybody's away, you're away. But it's okay. The day is coming, the holidays are ending, I am beaming.

Something is growing. Rapidly.

Something is stealing my soul away. Maybe its the hidden cameras everywhere that follows us around surreptitiously that has been up to something. That must be it. Haven't you heard, being taken photographs of yourself eats your soul. Slowly, but surely. They chew, they nibble, they munch. Bit by bit, and you won't even know it. And I don't even take pictures..

I'll exchange all my wisdom teeth for my soul. Fair trade?

Remember me.

What should we do with the rain that never fails to pour and not, to pour and not? Why should you, fickle raindrops determine how we should act, feel, talk and dress when you, you skittish little devious raindrops flow through the gray skies, the cloudy air and affect our day? How should we react to your little vile plan to ruin a perfect day? Should we accept your fun ways and enjoy it while it last or should we pray for the sun to seize back its rightful days and shine right through our eyes till we all go blind and wild with colours that will make us feel disconcerted and baffled?

So many questions, so much more rain.

The grass is always greener on the other side. So do you prefer it being weighed down with raindrops while sloshing through the mud and tiny rocks, looking so oh so frail and exhausted or would you prefer the grass to bask in the sun, dry as salted fish, tired as machines?

But then again, we're not grass. We wouldn't know, would we? Or.. would we not? Would we?