It's like writing with my left hand,
Or putting on a shoe on the other foot first,
It feels wrong.
It's like taking the last piece of cake,
Or stealing a lingering glance at a homeless man,
It feels wrong.
It's like twisting open a child safety cap,
Or buttoning my shirt bottom-up,
It feels wrong.
It's like me wanting to talk to you,
Or waking in the morning to thoughts of you,
It feels wrong.
It's like me relentlessly wondering,
And everyone else has since ceased,
It feels wrong.
It's like me moving on,
It feels wrong.
Do a little dance,
Traipse the line of impropriety.
Risque and enticing,
Perfect in all its qualities.
Fast approaching like a Monday morning,
I touched.
Sinking further with every struggle,
It's so much more real from where I stand.
Paper cups lay in disarray,
Chips ground to dust on the carpet floor.
Nothing's solved.
Nothing's absolved.
It's the little things,
The little steps.
The things you do,
Not the things you said.
Stop bouncing off the walls!
Maybe that's what I wanted all this while. Maybe that's what I set myself up for. Filling every waking moment with activity. Passing out at night and waking early the following morning to a day full of everything I can get my hands on. Need to keep moving...
I have goals. I have a destination. But I don't know if I'm going about it right. The metal ball in a pinball machine looks almost aimless in its ricocheting but yet it serves its purpose; to hit targets. I'm ricocheting... I'm thrown into a situation and I have this many possible ways of dealing with it. I exhaust every means and achieve my destination but without that sense of triumph. I'm haunted by the possibility that had I stuck the course, I would've achieved so much more, so much faster. Maybe beyond that obstruction the road was free but because I bounced off every hurdle, I am here... Lacking triumph. Feeling stupid.
So I do realise I have an obscene amount of free time on my hands, even while working. To maintain sanity, I had to find great amusement in the little things... Or maybe it's because I'm losing my sanity that I find great amusement in the little things... Whichever way you choose to look at it, I am greatly amused.
Okay, so this image here is one of the guest submissions by Gavin Yap for
Apostrophe's latest installment, Cakap-Cakap. Participants are supposed to fill in the speech bubbles in their comic of choice and submit their entries online. I found this entry so amusing... I was tickled for days.
And this, I found while having lunch at Kim Gary, Avenue K. *Manic laughter ensues* What the hell kinda seafood have we been eating all this while?
And for further hilarity, I've been poring over page after relentless page of
FailBlog thus more manic laughter and curious looks from the curious KL Sentral folk.
"Oh, Fear, your very grip is the reason I do anything at all."
Time is something no one has any control over whatsoever. With time, the inevitable will catch up. Oh, how I anticipate the inevitable. In all its bittersweet contradictions, at least I have the certainty of it happening to rely on.
The fear of aging takes my hand alongst the walk that is my life. With every year that passes, the body is breaking down. I fear memory loss. I fear the loss of my senses, both common and physical. I fear the inability to learn. I fear the slow dissipating of life. And it is this very fear that makes me do what I do. If one day physical age takes my sight, I want to have seen the world. If it takes the use of my legs, I want to have danced the way my body was made for. If it takes my hands, I want to have done enough that the people around me would miss them as much as I do.
Idealistic? Probably...
Word of the day: Don't wonder why people go crazy. Wonder why they don't.
Rapture.
It's in its consistent offbeats. It's in the irregular snare and sudden additional tones. I'm taken. Can't do anything about it now but sway. To kick my feet and to pump my fists, I'm taken. How did you find me?
I'll feel what you feel, I'll take what you take.
