being stuck at home for more than 7 days made me kinda raunchy.
and even now i haven't watched much tv.
im looking at my cold pancakes and i think it is starting to speak to me.
what's the name of the feeling you get when you've gone past your infatuation with someone and when you look at them you think: 'is this it?' cuz' i look at the person from every angle - and i don't feel for any feature on that face and i don't wish to be around the person with the hands that were never held open for mine. you don't like it. i don't like it. but i'm still gonna' do it. i'm gonna burn bridges and i am going to ask you to let me go. you cannot be the one for me because i choose not to be the one for you. i need this. please understand that i need this. i cannot stop my fingers from typing... it wants to get away from you. it feels good to diss you because that's what i get from you.
home-run.
home-run.
home-bound.
home-free.
i'm on the hunt for something that will keep me satisfied.
i've got my shows.
i've got my game.
i'm gonna' start making my life worthwhile for me again.
Showing posts with label entry me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entry me. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Entry Me
Friday, 17 July, 2009
12:49PM
I don’t know why and I don’t know how. There is pile of work for me to start on, a dictionary to study, a scriptwriting competition to prepare for, a meal to be bought, hair to be tied up, nails to be cut, a heart that needs mending, lights to be turned on, walls to be repainted, books to be stacked, books that has to be read, a presentation to do up and a compilation of memories to bury. My heart feels heavy and my eyes are squinting… I scrutinising the dots. My fingers are shaking as I type on. My eyes feel as if it’s turning red. I try to find meaning in what I am doing. All the time. My mother is at work… I can see her chatting at her desk. My grandmother is at home, resting on her lavender coloured couch. Yanti is in the kitchen, her face scowling slightly at the sight of fish and oil. I hear some birds outside the grilled windows. The room looks a little more orange today. I felt so weak that I couldn't get out of bed this morning so I had to skip school. I couldn't hear anything else except the deep irregular pounding beats on my chest. I couldn't think of music, laughter or the morning sun. I want to know what I’m feeling but I cannot describe the tangle of faithless dawn or bitter chocolate. I remember a quote from a book… why dawn is called mourning. Can you hear the sound of the cathedral tune? My back hurts from bending over the low dining table – my working table. I am online because I need to be somewhere but I am not there. I hope they can see me like this. My thoughts will wander and it will come back to a single person. But I don’t have that person anymore so I have to forgo what I had given. I cannot wait for this time to pass over. I have my priorities now. I cannot lay back and watch the world move. I have to move with them.
Because there is something I want to take back from the world.
Love,
Juanita T.K
12:49PM
I don’t know why and I don’t know how. There is pile of work for me to start on, a dictionary to study, a scriptwriting competition to prepare for, a meal to be bought, hair to be tied up, nails to be cut, a heart that needs mending, lights to be turned on, walls to be repainted, books to be stacked, books that has to be read, a presentation to do up and a compilation of memories to bury. My heart feels heavy and my eyes are squinting… I scrutinising the dots. My fingers are shaking as I type on. My eyes feel as if it’s turning red. I try to find meaning in what I am doing. All the time. My mother is at work… I can see her chatting at her desk. My grandmother is at home, resting on her lavender coloured couch. Yanti is in the kitchen, her face scowling slightly at the sight of fish and oil. I hear some birds outside the grilled windows. The room looks a little more orange today. I felt so weak that I couldn't get out of bed this morning so I had to skip school. I couldn't hear anything else except the deep irregular pounding beats on my chest. I couldn't think of music, laughter or the morning sun. I want to know what I’m feeling but I cannot describe the tangle of faithless dawn or bitter chocolate. I remember a quote from a book… why dawn is called mourning. Can you hear the sound of the cathedral tune? My back hurts from bending over the low dining table – my working table. I am online because I need to be somewhere but I am not there. I hope they can see me like this. My thoughts will wander and it will come back to a single person. But I don’t have that person anymore so I have to forgo what I had given. I cannot wait for this time to pass over. I have my priorities now. I cannot lay back and watch the world move. I have to move with them.
Because there is something I want to take back from the world.
Love,
Juanita T.K
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