It's time to decide.
It's time to be serious.
It's time to think.
It's time to know.
It's time to grow.

I cannot do my work! My eyes are dry and painful. The humming of the bloody machines are irritating me. The internet is a huge distraction. My mind is running like a wild dog, thinking of things I'm not supposed to think. My back hurts. It is getting late. I wanna do my work but I feel paralysed. It is stuffy. I've got not enough material to work on. There's no software I can use that is required for my asignment. I'm hungry again. I'm sleepy. People are talking to me. I can't pull myself out from the computer. I'm going to crash...

I compose and hold my hand
To pull me out of misery.
Misery is a ditch so deep
You'd wish to get back out.
But it takes a little while to see
That holding your hand is not the way.
Cos you'll just be going round and round
The light you'll never see.

It always happens when things go wrong. It gets worse. I was in the midst of a healing process with squeezing tears out of my eyes and attempting to catch some bags of breath. The depth of the darkness caught me at my most vulnerable and got me where I cannot say anything to save myself from what I have done. Good night.

And there they held. All the lying lay crazy and influenced. All the scent of that something foreign. All the smiles after tears. All my mind in wonderland.

I woke up from my dead and found out about the realness of the world. It is cold. It is lonely. And you see through blurry eyes people walking around all in a drunken state asking how do you do, and walk on, and you are left all alone again. When you thought that friends will be there to catch you when you fall, they don't. Because that's just a myth, and at the end of the day you are left all alone.

No one bothers to appreciate me. No one.

And I am abandoned again assumingly without being asked...

I don't read minds...

Is it such a thrill to test the elasticity of my patience?
Are my questions that difficult to answer?

The walk home was scary. Dark luscious clouds rolled in quickly. Lightning struck on one side of the world and the gale was picking up fast. On the other side of the world, the sky was sunsetting red and the contrast with the gloomy green was extraordinarily breathtaking.

I got home before the wonderous storm began. The wind filled in furiously and the rain started. Then the breath of the wind grew stronger and faster and madness started rising up from the darkened chambers of the sky. The storm gave out a loud shout and the hail exploded down to earth.

Trees were torn and roofs got shot into. Cars got their bodies mangled as the pellets of ice continued to fire in different directions. Streets and backyards and gullies started to pile up with balls of ice, tearing anything that got in the way. It was scary. And I thought it was the end of the world, because the storm grew heavier by the minute and everything was a blur.

Then all at once, after 15 minutes or so from vomitting all its guts out, the sky ceased to cough out anymore and it was just rain now. The poor tree outside my room got half it leaves torn out and the neighbour's backyard is filled with white now. Feels like Christmas... heh. Hope it starts to snow down here.

I never fail to disappoint myself.
Smile.

Despite all the pain that has drilled a cavity deep, I still smile and move on. 2 long ones and my mind still hounds back again like how it does every day to that place in time. A haunting ghost grieving. I know that I will never have my ears hear that one word, but then again, having this word lay upon my ears WILL NEVER work out what I have fucked up. Cos that's what I did. I FUCKED UP EVERYTHING. I could have had the willpower to stand away and watch my demons die.

Today I hear that perfection never was once in the skin of my face. But that I knew. Because perfection only resides in one's sighted eyes. Then why for the seduction? Why, since the perfect one sits unknowingly perfect in his throne, doesn't even know that he is waiting, must I be a jest for the game the player plays?

For once in my life I earned it. And then I lost it to someone who sees me as an imperfection.

I lose.

My war was never good to win to begin with.

And I'm just left with dangles of questions of whys...

Let me utter my disappointment to you. Something's leaked and now everyone's drenched in it. I shudder at the thought of how much more anyone can be drenched. That particular hole on your face was meant to shut. Your ears were only meant to hear, and eyes, see. And now you couldn't bear the sweetness of gossip dancing on the tip of your tongue, you had to spill. And spill it was you did, on what was given to you in trust, which, may I remind you, you have totally demolished. Colours ran by you hey? No one else could have seen it hey? But maybe the colours you might have seen was those of yours instead haven't you thought?

God gave me everything. Have I ever felt indebted to him? Point is I always try not to take people for granted by refusing them, but why do I recieve everything from God and not feel obliged?

Where is the effort I want to see that is supposed to come together with the claims I hopefully think are real? I cannot help but am made to feel the reins on my neck to be always directed where to go.