November172011
November162011
She
She always needs another 5minutes in bed
She loves to hold on and tug the shirt you are wearing especially when asleep
She loves being greeted with the smell of coffee brewing in the mornings
She loves to make the house smell like freshly baked bread, especially on weekend nights
She loves her foot rub, when we’re watching the telly
She loves ice cream- even when in the cold
She makes the home, home
She tends to her plants, like how one would to their children
She hates bitter but always conned into drinking something bitter
She makes the bed. Oddly, just before we go to sleep
She loves to make my homely shirts well worn
She makes sure we’re stocked with snacks- especially for the cold days when we get hungry
We now make music out of farts and burps
November152011
I am a raging rage.
A volcano, once dormant now explosive.
Once fireworks were beautiful, now just one big fury filled blast, heard for days, felt for months, oddly however seen by few.
It’s hard to keep a volcano dormant.
Dormant or not any more, I am this spewing volcano. Raging. With the occasional fuel that I wish I didn’t have, making each blast louder, more violent.
who the fuck?
A monster.
Angst ridden.
Anger does not disappear. It stays firmly for a long time. This is not me.
I am not me. Am I me?
Have I changed, being different? Or has things changed and I have not moved along?
Do I trust? Or am I even trusted anymore?
Am I giving up or has the world given up on me?
I just crave for the simple. But am I simply just making the simple untangle?
Do I deserve all these? Or am I deserving of it?
I can never seem to get over things or is the big, gangrene like wound keeps being hurt without being given the chance to heal?
Am I a bird caged? Or am I a bird free but being caged by the 4 walls?
Am I being watched? Or am I just paranoid?
Am I jaded? Or has I lost the lust for life?
WHAT THE FUCK/ WHO THE FUCK AM I AND WHAT THE FUCK AM I FUCKING DOING RIGHT/ WRONG ANYWAY?
August262011
I realise I come to this only when I am upset. Or when I feel I have so much pent inside me that needs letting out. It feels I turn to this as solace from the thing called life where I can be only with you one to you. Only you and I in a world that I can be calm. feel every pain, every pin drop silence without having to worry. Where I can let out what I otherwise can’t in the world called world.
Everything is an big sensitive open wound. It does not take much to bruise the already badly bruised wound. It does not take much for the bruised wound to get worse- even more infected, even more painful, ever longer for it to heal from what already seems an eternity to do so. A small pain point feels 10 times even more painful. Frustration and anger grows many folds from a mere nudge of this unstable state right now. Ever since 21Apr2010. What a date to remember- the marking of a badly bruised wound never healing.
I have come to terms. And I have accepted that they will never be the same again. It will never be the way it once used to be. It will just remain as fragments of memory, one that I’ll bring to my eventual grave. While they remain lingering memories, the present can still be a better place. This I remain hopeful that one day we will get there. But the bruising. They keep bruising.
I don’t know where and how to keep my sanity and yet let things out. Because I can’t. When I do there will for some form of repercussions- those that one can’t fathom what hit after it has- which would make the wound bruise even more. I don’t know if the wound would ever heal.
It is just here that I can let it out. A repository of bad things that, to be tucked away. A repository that lets me at least leave a bit of the scarring pain behind, relieving some pain temporarily at least.
July142011
An aged 12 year old its now my friend to calm my tired nerves. Served on the rocks. I wish I could just forget everything.
Once
We were once happy and comfortable with the quietness. Because we knew how we felt.
Now. I fear the quiet because it shows we have nothing to relate to and talk about- drifting.
