16 August, 2008. emo, pictures. 3 Comments.
exhausted. stressed. and there’s an unexplainable weight in her heart.
crushing it down.
like a paperweight on a stack of trial papers.
like the roots of a mango tree bursting out of a pot.
even the air around her feels heavy.
to the point of suffocation.
13 August, 2008. emo, poetry and stories. 3 Comments.
There’s nothing better than listening to One Republic in the dead of the night.
When someone important is now on her way to being thousands of miles away from me.
When everything and every breath just seems so wrong.
And the only thing that keeps me sane is asleep.
It’s like a blanket. Every senses are muffled. And all I feel is what’s left inside me.
Just pure, raw feelings.
Unfiltered.
Splayed out on the bed, those damp, musty feelings.
And sometimes I’d stare at them for what seemed like eternity, not knowing what to do with them.
I’m totally clueless. Like a duck gifted with the ability to play the cello.
10 August, 2008. emo. 2 Comments.
At times I feel like I’m losing myself. Maybe it should be in past tense. I’ve lost “me”. Or the essence of who I am. I still look like myself, but inside, I think who I am has withered into nothingness. Like, shit, who’s this girl pretending to be me? My idiotic mind is like a constant blank. Sigh.
* * *
She gazed at her doll, when thoughts run in her head. It’s her favourite one, Valerie, the one with silky black hair which has been by her side for almost 5 years. She held it when she cried for the loss of her cat, she hugged it whenever nothing in the world appealed to her anymore. She was attached to it emotionally, since it was her only anchor. She never really had any real friends, always a loner since she was a child. She preferred her own company, she grew accustomed to solitary. She’d rather be alone than be emotionally vulnerable to others.
A few months back, she would have never even think of getting a new doll, of throwing Valerie away. But recently, a voice has been whispering in her mind, harbouring secret thoughts.
It’s something she had deprived herself of, since the day she made a decision to lock her heart behind closed doors. The risks, uncertainties and the twisted sense of satisfaction that could only be found when experiencing a whole new process of emotions.
Should she or should she not?
Reluctance held her back. She fears the uncertainty, yet has an unexplainable crave for it. It is the fear of losing something perfect, and the fear of plunging into a sea of unknown. What if she discovers that it is not what she wanted after all, that she had thrown away the most precious thing in her life because she wanted to have a taste of the unknown?
19 July, 2008. emo, poetry and stories. No Comments.
Another dream post again. ^^,
I saw her in front of my door. She looked tinier, and fluffier than usual.
I was ecstatic you know, cos I thought she came back. When something you thought you’ve lost forever suddenly appeared right in front of your eyes, the joy was overwhelming, undescribable.
I kept on repeating that sentence in disbelief. She’s back. She’s back. I stroked her over and over again.
My dad was beside me, and he said in a sad tone:
“She’s gone already you know.”
And then I was shocked.
“You can’t see her?”
He shook his head slowly.
I looked down at her, and tears poured out of my eyes. It’s like waving her favourite barbie in front of a kid, but telling her she can’t have it anymore.
Damn it man. She looked so cute. So freaking cute. I wished I hugged her before realisation kicked in.
I miss her, still.
15 July, 2008. death, emo. No Comments.
