Urrrmmmpppp!

Ok. Life really does get harder then anticipated, even if you're walking on air. I struggle with being aware of how I'm feeling, why I'm feeling this way, how I react, and how I want to react. And at the end of the friggin day (read 5 in the a.m.), I find that I am hopelessly not enough to lead a fulfilled life in all that I am. I naturally gravitate into the blackholes of sulkiness and blahness and dearie-me-I-am-all-depressed-and-tragic. Even Glen notes that I cannot descibe my emotional state of being, which is usually less then 7/10, apart from my relationship with Seth. Whatever that is.

And then the story goes round my head and the text is impossible to read. It's like being in the Never-Ending Story and trying to read it, simultaniously, with a cuppa coffee in the Starbucks at Tampines Mall. Then the rethoric goes something like "ahhh... but the story isn't meant to be read charted... it's meant to be lived."

Horkay, very good. So then now what does that mean? What does that mean? What does that mean? And over bus-rides and Nav meetings I try to figure out how to pen the process of not penning the story. And as I watch one rodent in my life, another one slips past and hits the cheese. Oops. How did I get here again? Thank God for constantly pulling me out of the black holes. Ok, now back to rat-watching... ttyl, creator.

Flip out. I need to worship.

My last resort to being a perfectly regeneratingly flawed Human being.
Suits me just fine.
Thank you sir.

shhh. yourself.