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Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Please, i beg to be elsewhere.

if only i live in the magical world of Enid Blyton, where beds can sprout wings at night, or be whisked off into a mystical world the likes of Alice in Wonderland("oh where do i go from here?").

this is my ugliest and most vulnerable moment.

right now, i am unable to appreciate the beauty of nature(i am only filled with disdain watching the clearing of foliage lining the river banks on my way to and from school), nor find appetite for the food patient in front of me. i find nothing appealing, even contracting my facial muscles require a conscious exertion of strength. as much as i "bask" in being melancholy, sometimes i am also bogged down by it; now i am overwhelmed, unable to disengage myself from this dead weight that is submerging my heart, unable to disentangle myself from this terrible mess that i'm making. and if i am apathetic, i am just as well dead.

we are alive and we are young.
yet, i am hardly bursting with the exuberance of youth nor leaping in sheer joy of being healthy and physically capable. it seems a challenge to scout for one teenager whom is not yet apathetic, cynical or jaded. everyone around me either looks like a drug addict, walks around with hypocritical efficiency or has such profound tiredness you can palpably sense life evaporating like gas escaping from a flask that hasn't been stoppered tight. i do not feel comforted that my sorrow is universal- and you ask me what do i know of sorrow; i have never been starved, i have never had no place to stay, none of my loved ones has died, i have never experience a war, i have not even broken a limb.. but how should you quantify or even begin to measure sadness.?- i rather find that contemplating this world sorrow is nauseating, like how vomiting makes you feel slightly less nauseous but staring at the fresh vomit or just inhaling its stale grotesque stench makes you throw right up again.
we are really quite the same as the dead soulless bodies rotting in the earth. stiff, filled with dreams and aspirations, and we yearn the same thing; that is to live (why?)

she's not here @

10:23 PM