shit
wasn't really something I expected to hear
Somehow what surprised me wasn't so much your response, but my own. Not angry. Not irritated. Just... curious? And pretty amazed at how such a simple question elicited your shit.
I thought about it while walking up the stairs, while flazing on the couch, while the tirade of manchesterunited and their fuckedup performance was going on. Oh wells. I don't understand but I see your efforts at trying to hide it. For my own good. Which is when I can't figure out what I want. Sometimes sometimes I feel like yelling be honest with me damnit, hiding things isn't being honest. But yet I like fluffy white lies - lies that tell me my eyebags are babysized, my hair is not static-fied or messy, I'm not stupid at all and can conquer the whole world. If only this mechanism has an autodetection switch, toggling between accommodation and brutal honesty.
I can just imagine the -are you accusing me of lying- response at this point.
sorry lah. not accusing.
Wanted to write something along the lines of whether people despair when they don't see a future thats better than the present. But I will leave that to my essay. The essay that is still currently wordless. The essay where I will, with great great difficulty, explain why the people of Kievan Rus eventually turned to the religion so commonplace in Russia today. Of pagan tradition versus the orthodox church. Of living for the moment versus extreme optimism.
Reminds me of those typical (almost boring) school mottos... that essentially mean for a better tomorrow.
Churning out words is just not my thing, especially long essays that I have no idea what to blabber about.
The essay is still wordless because all this while I've been shaking as if I've got withdrawal symptoms of some sort and can't quite figure if its due to 1. the painfully cold weather 2. caffeine in coffee 3. the fact that I could be sick and not know it.
shit
wasn't really something I expected to hear
Somehow what surprised me wasn't so much your response, but my own. Not angry. Not irritated. Just... curious? And pretty amazed at how such a simple question elicited your shit.
I thought about it while walking up the stairs, while flazing on the couch, while the tirade of manchesterunited and their fuckedup performance was going on. Oh wells. I don't understand but I see your efforts at trying to hide it. For my own good. Which is when I can't figure out what I want. Sometimes sometimes I feel like yelling be honest with me damnit, hiding things isn't being honest. But yet I like fluffy white lies - lies that tell me my eyebags are babysized, my hair is not static-fied or messy, I'm not stupid at all and can conquer the whole world. If only this mechanism has an autodetection switch, toggling between accommodation and brutal honesty.
I can just imagine the -are you accusing me of lying- response at this point.
sorry lah. not accusing.
Wanted to write something along the lines of whether people despair when they don't see a future thats better than the present. But I will leave that to my essay. The essay that is still currently wordless. The essay where I will, with great great difficulty, explain why the people of Kievan Rus eventually turned to the religion so commonplace in Russia today. Of pagan tradition versus the orthodox church. Of living for the moment versus extreme optimism.
Reminds me of those typical (almost boring) school mottos... that essentially mean for a better tomorrow.
Churning out words is just not my thing, especially long essays that I have no idea what to blabber about.
The essay is still wordless because all this while I've been shaking as if I've got withdrawal symptoms of some sort and can't quite figure if its due to 1. the painfully cold weather 2. caffeine in coffee 3. the fact that I could be sick and not know it.