(Fill in the blanks)

This reminds me of when we used to draw dotted lines along our wrists, "Cut along the dotted lines". It was done in the name of fun and what we thought was "cool" then. Oh those adolescent days of silly behaviour, unjustified actions and emotional rollercoasters.

Without a doubt.

As I put down my pen, I know someone, somewhere is picking up theirs.

I know that someone, somewhere is playing a guitar for the first time.

I know that someone, somewhere is dipping a paintbrush and marking a field of white.

I know that someone, somewhere is singing a song that's never been sung.

Perhaps someone, somewhere will create something so beautiful and moving, it will change the world.

Perhaps that somewhere is here.

Perhaps that someone, is you.

We had a million questions bout' our lives.

No, I swear this time, it happened for real. It wasn't I dream I had always been forcefully woken up from. No, at least not this time.
This involves having to balance yourself on the upper deck of a moving bus. Having surprised yourself, you find the upper deck empty, you plant yourself comfortably in a seat that smelt of sickening synthetic plastic which would have caused you to feel nausea the entire bus journey if it weren't for the soothing playlist that kept your mind distracted from the discomfort.

Well, I'd count myself real lucky this time. I had company, oh yes, a lovely company who sat beside me. He looked pretty preen and proper, neat and oh- I'd say that was how a perfect guy should look. Thankfully, he was my lover. So I offered him the other earpiece and kept my playlist running. He teased me about the types of songs I listened to. And I wouldn't deny the fact that I loved being teased just for that moment. Or perhaps... I loved how he teased me? The music kept playing and each of us slowly wandered into our own thoughts. At least for me, I bit th side of my lower lip, and I tightened the grip of my hand and tried my hardest not to blink. Not wanting to cry on the bus was a struggle. All of a sudden, the traffic light and street lamps outside the bus window went blurry and fuzzy, but my thoughts were so clear. It must have been the comfort of having his broad shoulder pillowing my head.

He must have felt my uneasiness as he cradled the side of head and asked "Would you want to take a nap?". My heart tightened, and I felt the back of my throat turned sour. I wanted to breakdown. What heightened my emotions were those familiar lyrics "Never thought not having you here would hurt so bad."
I couldn't stop my mind from playing your words "when I first texted you, my heart was beating fast." I guess... We're inseperable right now, and till the end.

Tonight, I wish you were here because it hurts me to know that we're looking at the same bunch of stars but what's missing is your presence. I'd call you at 4am just to tell you how much I miss you.

I'm a crazy kid.

Now.

Now's the exact moment my mind is diving into a mess. This is exactly when I am not thinking right, not walking straight, not feeling nice. Did I mention how EXACT it is? Now, this exact milliseconds, I am thinking of banging myself hard into the shelves of books, giving it the hardest knock till all my books fall over and knock me in my head. The books will fall so hard and fast and I won't be able to dodge the cutting edge of the bookcover. That... Can be a pretty mess.

When all that pain seems to be screaming in between my ears, I'll let it ring till I am in a slightly hypnotic state where I'll keep my eyes locked straight ahead. I reckon I'll see tiny black spots floating around because I could've suffered a mild concussion. And if I were to keep one of my eyes shut, and have my index finger placed right before my eyes, I'll realize... My finger is as huge as the tiny black spots. Oh.. Here's the best part.

I'll crawl into my old rusty washing machine that groans like a old rusty truck engine. I'll sit in that tiny black hole and breathe. I'll count till a 100, I'd guess that will be sufficient time for me to gain my composure?

After 100, I'll close myself. That's when the warm water starts flooding and all of a sudden, I feel the rush of my blood, from my toes up to my ears.. Then everything seems to go round and round and round. I am spinning. As my thoughts start to form, the spinning gets faster and harder. All of a sudden, when I finally get the picture in my head, the old washing machine stops.

It broke down.
Thank God, it wasn't me.

Reality Checked up upon me.

come to think about it, i do love having those long (cus your house is so freaking far) walk under the clouds. As i walk along the pavement, I find the sunsets, the stars, and the moon so facinating and beautiful, until i reach the point where i see you..at the end of the line.




You are just as lovely as them all combined together.

Take that.

It's weird. It's tacky. It's overrated. It's bland. It's ridiculous. It's stupid. It's idiotic. It's screwed up in so many parts. It's naive. It's frustrating. It's intense. It's tension. It's a lie. It's torturous. It's retarded. It's so lame. It's expensive. It's exhausting. It's a trap. It's neverending. It's upsetting. It's painful. It's rubbing not just salt, but sea salt on your freaking wound. It's a calamity.
It's pissing me off.

Oh, don't you dare pull that shit on me now.
If anyone asks where I'm going to be in the next 3 years,
I'd say UP YOUR ASS BITCH.

Caught somewhere in between.

Just before I fall asleep and when I'm really bored I, lay down and think for a while until I fall into a semi hypnotic state of subconciousness.Some call it daydreaming and some call it just fucking spacing out.But I feel like I'm not here and it doesnt matter because I'm sick of putting myself in boring situations and pro argumentory conversations, just everyday basic sitcome happenings.Some call it thinking but when I'm in this particular state of mind, I forget to think and it becomes strictly observatory.I notice things very sensitively.Like if I focus really hard, I can see small transparent blotches of debris on the outer shell of my eyes (or the conjuctiva right?) and can only follow it as my eye moves downward.It's like watching a film footage of an amoeba or a jelly like plankton under a microscope.And when I close my eyes and look up to sun, the bright orange redness (from the sun I think) radiates an intense picture of red blood cells or what I think are blood cells.And they're moving very rapidly and again I can only focus for so long before my eyes strain and it becomes very painful and I have to look away from the sun into a pillow and rub my eyes hard.Then I see tiny spheres of sparkling light which only stay for a second .Some call them stars but they look more like sparkles to me.Then as my eyes focus again amongst the water or tears (from rubbing my eyes too hard),I open them and then look up into the sky, away from the sun, and forget about the stupid fucking squiggly things moving on the outer layer of my eyes or the close up blood cells in my eye lids and I stare at the sky with perrifial vision and not trying, but just happening to make out all the kinds of faces,objects and staues in the clouds.And I can do the same with the painting next to my couch and the walls surrounding my couch.

The Heart we share.

Each time they cut you, I bleed.

Today, I was taught a lesson of love.

So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love — loving the loving of things whose existence she didn’t care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist.

Eat your heart out.

Ahh, but what can it be? A feeling as though your heart caved in, swallowed by every ache you've felt before. In that moment, every past mistake, every single wound, you'd feel it like a trainwreck. And all of forever felt like a moment. But perhaps love is none of these things. It won't suddenly make every day all right. It won't change who you are. It won't make your car go faster. It doesn't even wash your dishes.

All love is, is love. And that's all it needs to be. Really.