had a rift with someone yesterday, will not mention name. i had no where to turn(for comfort), and therefore turned to the classic paper and pencil(mechanic). rather dramatic. i get real dramatic when depressed and extremely poetic. this is when my eng literature studies helps me. now, understand slyvia plath's choice of death (she was a poet who killed herself... i hope i didnt get her name wrong... it's not virginia woolfe, is it? but she's a writer!). twas actually 27/11 but at 12-something am when i wrote this:
there is no escape. all the doors are bolted shut. sometimes you just want, just need to scream, but it's all closed in, and the screams are reflected back. again and again. echoes create echoes. when will it end? will i have to surrender to fate or take it upon my own hands? either way, it will bring no benefit whatsoever. all these chains...uncountable. i should bless my life for the food shoved under the doors, bless my life for the shelter this place offers me. yet i cant. the air chokes and silent walls stare. judging and watching all the time.
i always avoid thinking that money is everything.money is not. it's just stupid pieces of paper that gets you material stuff. we dont need money, but we need things that cannot be seen but felt. but what happens if you become dependent on material things? obsessed even. that is the weakness people prey upon, to threaten you, like taking it away.our security is dangered by money. money is power. at the mere sight of it, people bow.or if you argue it is not, people wouldnt go crazy when the bank declare you bankrupt and take away your television and car etc etc. bribes wouldnt happen that many. families are nice to their grandparents so that their names will be in the will. then when the will is presented after the grandparents deaths, some might not be satisfied with it. they'll go to court and bicker, forgetting the grandparents. it just hurts me so much now that gianne who once scorned at 'money is all' now succumbing to it. it's hard to admit, but it is a fact. am crying buckets now.
used to think, that things are just things and nothing more. they are bought, used and it will deteriorate. that's all to it. now i realize, if that is the case, then body are things too. they are, however, living but still is used and it will get old. therefore we need both body and things.
i really feel trapped. by circumstances and being stunted from making a choice. if i had a choice, i'd rather be an animal... it is just less complicated that way. i'm watching from inside a glass box, only able to watch and not DO. and it must be sound-proofed too. my opinions and views are blocked.
now i just feel so lonely. it's as though great many years has passed since spm. have no one but myself for comfort and it's getting bloody lonely.people, including me, does not realize how much a difference a simple touch could be. the touch may be physical, may be emotional, but it will leave a mark so beautiful it hurts. btw, am not suggesting that anyone should just come up and molest me. i really hope you get what i mean. am just so confused right now.the battle within me has not ceased and suddenly maturity(is it, really?) is flunged violently at me in all directions. you just cant take so many things in at one time...you'd go crazy if you manage.
if you were to see me now, i'm a sight to behold. face is red, eyes bulging and shirt is wet. there's two rolled-up tissues stuck up my nose. perhaps should amuse myself and wake up family members, later, looking like this. oh yes, mechanical pencil/keyboard/blog are mycompanions when there is no one to listen to my selfish problems. and frankly, there's no other more patient a listener.