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我用维尼熊壁纸贴满这晦暗空间
戴上墨镜看着这可爱的世界.

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听陈绮贞是生活的必须

got back home after a day out.
been tinking.
hafing mixed feelings. that sort of confusion tat really needs you to stop and ponder.
for days.

it's like a gazillion years since i stepped out of house.
insomnia's killing me in the sense that i wake up everyday when half a day's gone.
days seem short. nights seem long.
and to think right now, it's approximately 2 hrs to dawn.
so it's rare that i went out today.
caught the sun.
took a good walk round the gardens.
been doing some thinking ever since i walked past the 57th tile on the pavement.
bout 2 hamsters that went to heaven, one long before the after.
bout ppl hu died as the consequences of stuff that were so minute and insignificant.
bout a ger hu couldn't talk.
bout a distant childhood.
bout a bird..no.pig.
sort of a weird amalgamation of kooky thoughts.

nothing lies still by the minutes.
seconds tick past.
ruffled your hair. coffee gets cold.
that sort of thing.
i guess my world's sorta like this:
i don't think anything changes. things go exactly what i think they should be...or used to be.
there's little/no change in people i know.
things stay the same.
for reasons unknown, i venture out and take a look around..then from nowhere there's this bloody flying kick to the head.
reality kicks in.
and u stumble, wincing in pain, reeling from the impact that hey, things are not what you think they shld be. cld have been.
they dun always go your way.
like you plan for a perfect pinic for the family and then it had to rain just as you spread the table.
it's this sort of naivety that kills.
i'm not sure how i'm going to shake that off.

if you had both hands cupped with sand and you're told that none of it is to be spilled or anything.
and by some gap between your palms, it seeps onto the floor.
how do you retrieve what you have lost?
how do you make sure you wouldn't lose anything more?
i'd probably cup my hands even tightly together and tell myself nothing's been lost.
it's all in here. nothing's gone.
but you would still feel the grainy, rough texture by some shuffling of your feet.
or the soft brown colour of sand as you bend and look over your cupped hands.

i dunno wat this is..naivety?
self-denial?
or wat..?
(to be cont'd when i haf the time)

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