i used to have a dairy of all people i hope to be friends with and how they hurt me. i was a kid with much angst then...
there was a phase when i started writing things to say to people (on assumption that those words are read after im gone. i finished a piece of stuff for my mom, then upon re-reading it, i decided to threw that writing pad away.
now... i prefer to keep words on scraps,aiming at a dustbin and throwing a perfect curl ball after some days.i guess i am at an ironical stage where i m stuck between showing and hiding.
happy new year.oh.happy writing :)
scraps are still being formed. words exist for that split second,
boldly flaunting their survival and then being crushed to their death.
too much flesh, it seems to gaudy. too little blood, it seems too aloof. too much of both, it seems too painful. i can't seem to write and be at peace at what i wrote, for these are little "phases" in my life.
it is like swimming. there was this phase that i felt edgy in the pool. i felt the distinction between the water, the chlorine and me.i know my strokes are too flippy. i know my breathing is too fast. i know i am floundering too much.i missed the peace i felt in the pool. i missed the fluidity. i missed the calm and serene.
i am still searching for the balance. the fluidity. the calm and the inner peace. till then.
2 comments:
期待你找到书写的惬意——我始终是你忠实的读者=)
the pot calling the kettle black. 你的
studio生锈啦~
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