Rant

IV

Your door is closed.

It is wooden, but hollow
Even if it opens, and you walk outside
Nobody feels welcome
But everybody shivers, scared

I knock for the door to fall
but only the skin on my knuckles do

I watch the skin fall, and the blood follow after
Raw wounds that need time to heal
A perfect circle-shaped break in my skin
A fitting ring for my soul to feel
The hollow beat of my heart
  - of jagged stone against cold tin

V

I am trying.

Sometimes I just want to take it all away. To uproot myself from the world, tearing out the roots.

I am my own adhesive - I can take away everything, wipe it away. Clean. Empty. Start all over again.

I want to jettison myself away. Jetsam. Debris from a larger whole. I often wondered how it feels to escape, and now I wonder when.

Separate, then blur out the lines.

Nakakapagod na.

Sorry!

Hwoops.

It has been a while since I last wrote in here, since I last logged in. Sorry about that. I want to say that a lot of things happened, that there were a lot of things that I had to take care of, but... nope. I'd rather not. To say these things at this point would be just excuses, and I'd much rather not offer up any.

So. Here we are, at the break between the 2nd day and the 3rd day of writing. Here is something a little bit more... personal.

I want to tell you a few things.

30DC Day 2: How Have You Changed in The Past Two Years?

Be the Song, Foy Vance

This picture taken two years ago probably sums up what I had been like back then: awkward and inappropriate. Sinong pumikiiiiit?!

F tells me I've changed. She says I've adopted a new kind of voice, one which I use regularly in my work. This is probably true. It takes a certain kind of pitch to talk the unassuming, and this pitch is as low as hell.