pretense was a great li(f)e.
one of those days where you soak in the nothingness of everything. (not that everything is nothing, but fuck, you get the idea.)
i am up to the point where exhaustion is at its climax and my brain does not want to absorb anything further (for the fear of flooding) because a climax is a boundary and boundaries are not meant to be crossed. so i am here sitting, wasting the hours and the seconds trying to soak in nothing, when it is actually not nothing (how can anything be nothing?).
everything is a big blur.
and i want to try smoking the hookah.
one day i would go over to arab street and try the mango-flavoured.
it is supposedly good according to everyone who tried.
i slept a total of 20++ hours during the weekends, and i realised that does more harm than good. because when you wake up, the gush of priorities, projects, money, books, electronics, cups, in other words, LIFE seems so much heavier.
- or is it because sleeping/death-like state is _ _ _ _ _?
i know i know i would get over the weight of things, i know it is only temporary.
i know this is not depression (for some might conclude to be), they are just personal emotional issues.
i know i am suffering, but it is like the lightweight portable ibook i carry.
i know these feelings are akin to a human missing a limb; where are their brothers and sisters?
i know all the people i have truly adored are dead by choice; sometimes it is not that amazing that death wins.
i know i am amused, in a silent underdog manner.
i know i never understood why , why
and why.
this late afternoon, i am sitting by the window where the dim orange rays of the sun reaches out and caresses my skin.
i feel nothing but a certain coldness that runs deep into my veins.
i should pretend that i am alive.
i am up to the point where exhaustion is at its climax and my brain does not want to absorb anything further (for the fear of flooding) because a climax is a boundary and boundaries are not meant to be crossed. so i am here sitting, wasting the hours and the seconds trying to soak in nothing, when it is actually not nothing (how can anything be nothing?).
everything is a big blur.
and i want to try smoking the hookah.
one day i would go over to arab street and try the mango-flavoured.
it is supposedly good according to everyone who tried.
i slept a total of 20++ hours during the weekends, and i realised that does more harm than good. because when you wake up, the gush of priorities, projects, money, books, electronics, cups, in other words, LIFE seems so much heavier.
- or is it because sleeping/death-like state is _ _ _ _ _?
i know i know i would get over the weight of things, i know it is only temporary.
i know this is not depression (for some might conclude to be), they are just personal emotional issues.
i know i am suffering, but it is like the lightweight portable ibook i carry.
i know these feelings are akin to a human missing a limb; where are their brothers and sisters?
i know all the people i have truly adored are dead by choice; sometimes it is not that amazing that death wins.
i know i am amused, in a silent underdog manner.
i know i never understood why , why
and why.
this late afternoon, i am sitting by the window where the dim orange rays of the sun reaches out and caresses my skin.
i feel nothing but a certain coldness that runs deep into my veins.
i should pretend that i am alive.
