17 weeks and counting. i should be sleeping. still there. still the same. still empty. i've stopped writing when you stopped reading. or maybe i stopped when you started. i don't know. i don't remember. somehow, when i start, i know i won't stop. it feels like i'm seconds away from barfing. you know that feeling? but somehow i know that it'll just be lastweek's dinner i'll be vomiting out. absolutely nothing meaningful at all. perhaps i'm hiding too much from myself. since when have i been such a coy and silent stranger?
i miss you. i miss someone. i miss something. yet it bears a faceless, broken-in head. one that sits at the bottom of a balinese temple garden. could have been anyone with a boy-cut hairdo of the 40's. any takers?
i don't suppose... if i did scoop it all up and pile it on and rearrange bits and pieces of burger, i'd find something useful and perhaps even... poetic? i give up on prose. i give up on structure and content. there's no point trying to construct something with the main purpose of hoping that someone would take it apart. i wouldn't know how to put it back.
i think i can go on for a while here. it's always right before i NEED to sleep. the boyfriend calls it hamster-mode. more precisely, staying up and busying myself til the wee hours of the morning doing absolutely nothing of importance. oh i DO stuff... just not something that deserves staying up that late for. that's what he thinks anyway. what IS important in life anyway? cept for eating, i dare say i can't think of anything else. okay maybe sex too?
suddenly everything looks prettier. is that healthy?
penelope is a rotting mound of bat guano. just for today though. of black umbrellas and broken matchsticks and chewed up bubblegum paper; i think she's just sick and tired of me wasting away too. perhaps she's found another friend to bother with her flighty laughter and her precocious mind. i do miss her star-rides.
i saw adam. poor little caged-up bird. bio-luminescent feathers faded and tattered. yet his eyes still sparkle brightly whenever he giggles and hiccups pink and purple bubbles.
i want cake. cupcake. yellow flowers and all.
i want a home with bakelite kitchen and paper bathrooms.
i want penelope and lil j and adam in a box. with a ribbon!
i want the voice next to my ear to shutup about how life is really just a loaf of bread. wholemeal if you're an interesting person. 7 grain if you're a genius. I AM NOT!!!!!
i want money. i want bed. i want quite a few people dead.
is that too many wants?
then i'll just settle for a notebook and a pencil. i hear they make excellent pillows when you're feeling dreamy. and smell like sage.
i wonder at times.... just how honest and open i really am. i think i weasel my way out of things better than i really intend to. probably just big on denial like everyone else. yeah. that one.
it feels as though i haven't spoken in years and only now am i able to utter words that actually mean something to someone somewhere who's stoned on orange crayons.
i don't like the color orange but someone once told me that colors should not be hated. and i'm slowly realising that maybe orange isn't so bad after all. it's definitely starting to look happier than yellow. maybe one day i'll paint my room orange to match my disposition. you know, the one that i am pretending to have by pretending not to have? yeah. how can anyone even feel bad for being happy? what's wrong with you?
i think, i'll start the year 6 days late with a personality test that somewhat speaks of my true self.
I am Blue/Black
Take The Magic Dual Colour Test - Beta today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.
I'm both selfish and rational. I'm scheming, secretive and manipulative; I use knowledge as a tool for personal gain, and in turn obtaining more knowledge. At best, I am mysterious and stealthy; at worst, I am distrustful and opportunistic.
i concur. i AM scheming secretive and manipulative. distrustful, maybe. opportunistic... who isn't? using knowledge as a tool... only because there are so many stupid people out there. stealthy makes me think of scrawny french men in slinky black leotards and i'm nothing like that. i think i'd look like a dung beetle in a leotard.
so yes. they forgot pretentious and utterly lazy. perhaps, if i was on hamster-mode for the right reasons, i would have taken over the world by now.
i watched 'Wild Child' and i liked it. I don't care what anyone else says, i think Emma Roberts is utterly cute. perhaps i just secretly wish that i was more like her when i was 13.
i think i'm in love. there is this boy who spews peas at people and it makes me laugh so much. oh. only on the inside though. cos it's rude to laugh at people with peashaped bruises. i love you!!!!! yet i think i only love him because i can't spew peas at people and i want to do so.
did i tell you, penelope, that i've become a connoisseur of gossip? the words glide oh so effortlessly out of my nudelipsticked lips that mind you, smells like orange and bergamot at times and vanilla at other times. and on the rare occasion, should it arise, like french toast and sardines. :P but yes. i'm afraid i have stumbled down the dark and dank well to find a tea party set out for only the best of the lot- the NORMAL people. i'm afraid i fear being normal more than i fear being fat or old or dead. is that wrong? everyone has their vices right? mine are fear of being normal and shoes. and green. and boys.
is it okay, penelope, if i fell in love with another girl? maybe she'll look just like you and speak just like you. but i seriously doubt it. but what if she's more you than you are? will you be jealous? were you jealous when i kissed that sleeping boy? or did you slap me just because you thought it was fun? did you cry? i hope you did.
right now, i can fall in love with anyone. just smile or be orange and i'll love you. then i'll wake up and wonder what the hangover is for and i'll see you in your normal human form and scream bloody murder and wonder why i drank so much peasoup last night. who held my hair back while i puked into the swimming pool? who picked up my shoes when i staggered down the stairs and left them lying on the steps like foo dogs? please leave your number and address and i'll send you a thankyou card.
i hate you all. good night.
