I Don’t Have Much Time Left
I’m going insane over intrepid things.
I want to spend every waking hour with you.
I want to say the things I want to say.
I want to see the smiles again and again, as much as possible.
I want to take a thousand pictures with you.
I want to make a million memories with you.
I want to grasp your hand and lead you through the busy world.
I want to hold you in my arms and tell you it’s alright.
I want to cuddle you to sleep and wake up seeing your face.
I want you to show me when you are sad, so that I will recognise the lines on your face when you are genuinely happy.
I want you to break down and cry, tell me everything.
I want you to be happy, safe and lucky again.
But…
I don’t have much time left.
Emergence of the Soul
Slamming deep into the echoes of my being,
The long reaches of good influences ever again.
Morality once again I have as a sword,
The old grasp firm and true.
Faith and honour be its scabbard,
A double twin in everlasting glory.
Invisible they are,
But impotent they are not.
Today is a glorious day,
Filled with the wine of victory,
The whispers of angels,
And the emergence of the soul.
I Have Scoliosis
A new indulgence: hitting the gym. It takes the strength out of you, and conveniently, it takes your troubles away with it, momentarily. Even just for a while, it feels damn good to be free.
I’m appreciating the fact that the gym is literally right next to where I live. That means late nights gyming sessions are possible. Now I don’t have to crave late night jogging sessions, which is virtually insane in the freezing cold at night here.
But it’s still freaking boring to run on a treadmill. There’s a TV right on top, but I don’t much desire a hurting neck after each running session. My neck areas are really sensitive, prone to sprains and all. The last time I sprained it was on last Thursday, when I went overboard with the theme park rides. Thank goodness it healed a day after.
My one other injury-prone area is my spine. Scoliosis is ugly, especially when you are all bones. It becomes obvious that you are not just slouching. There, slightly to the right, would be a portruding area of flesh and bone, which worsens every year, like a sea plate that moves one millimeter at a time, slow but still still moving.
It hurts sometimes, when I exert too much strength, carry too heavy a field pack or do too aggressive sit ups. I haven’t really gotten any sprains yet, which can be extremely dangerous for someone like me.
But my biggest concern is how this will get worse and worse as I grow older. I don’t want to walk with a stick anytime soon.
Provoking the Common Nation
Reason is I wanted to stop staring at my own face whenever I load up that page. Moreover, I didn’t really need a tagboard. No frills simplistic designs would do fine for now.
I write the best blogs when I’m either… dead drunk or dead tired. The inhibitions that normally oppose me from saying, like “fuck” or provocative hurting topics, goes to sleep when I am half conscious. Sure, I’m going to lose friends (more like acquaintences) when I pull out all stops on my public writing, get the CIA on my tail and probably anger the entire religious community, but my posts have been all rather boring (now that I took a look on past rantings). It’s really hauntingly boring, so much so that I feel that I should either revamp my way of writing or let this blog go to hell for all that matters.
Which is going to be damn weird. Bet you didn’t know, I have been writing blog posts since the invention of blogs and Web 2.0. Stopping now is akin to telling me to live in an igloo and fish in solid frozen waters for entertainment.
The allure of blogging is simply that, somebody will read what you say. It doubles the pleasure when someone you know reads it. It triples the orgasm when many someone you don’t know read it and still continue reading it day after day. Clear cut, it is attention seeking resolution of the 21st century.
And I adore attention. I dress up because I want people to think I’m fashionable. I put on moisturisers, half a tonne of hair wax and barrels of facial toners because I want people to look at me, one time, two times, again and again. I take part in major social events because I craved an opportunity to be centred stage, point blank.
So if I really still want people to keep dropping by, I really should put in more effort in this whole affair. Manipulative and cold, I know. Since I have something to say, you have something to read and we can exchange some racid perspectives, then what’s so bad about that, hmm? Okay fine, you lose your soul if you keep reading all this crap.
It’s an irony that I am currently hating those asian foreign workers beside me, since I am, after all, every bit like them. But note, I am originally a selfish being, and I do not favour groups of people who ruin my Sundays by taking up the entire power supply, the limited space and stick on for the rest of the day just to complete the package.
Okay, I am being over-angsty. However,considering I trudged through layers of thick snow and walked about a few thousand miles (well, it did seem like this in the cold) to this only Wi-Fi spot in the town, I have reasons to be frustrated. And since when did this place became their territory? One or two is fine. But the exact 4 persons every single weekend? Fine, I am so going to bring my whole platoon next time.
Take 5, I’m thirsty.
