Combo Includes:
Let's begin with the time, as usual. It is 2331. The scene right now is me, on the floor again with the lights all shut off. The taste of that brilliant yet watery iced coffee is in lingering on the inside of my cheeks and with every blink all I can see is green on the back of my eyelids. That is the scene tonight, along with a buzzing phone with texts about a drama.
I try so hard not to scratch at scabs, but scars fascinate me. Perhaps that's the reason I'm attracted to characters such as Mello, Zuko, and that one man with an all too common name. Perhaps that's why I did what I did last night and also the reason why I only brought one bandage to a scene of 8 cuts.
How hard is it to sit on the floor. The reason I do it is to stay awake. Sleep is for the weak, or so they say. Mostly, I'm afraid of dreaming about something I am running away from: life. I like to feel lucid and away all at the same time. I like to feel the feeling when the question of "What is a feeling?" is asked. Does that make sense or am I already too tired to realise that I'm blabbering on about something that's so insignificant in this world.
Back to the scene right here at 11:40PM. My back aches, my stomach aches, my cuts burn and my scars scream for a re-opening.
I have a problem: motivation. I don't have enough to do anything. There's this thing I'm doing, writing blog posts but it's just a fucking diary isn't it? Or, again, word vomit. But motivation to drive, to work out, to work, sleep, write, read, study, whatever it is, I don't have any motivation for it. Which is why I'm all talk no work. Which is why my organised crime idea will stay an idea and I'll stay out of jail.
There are 4 things that give me life, they are included in this combo. Perks, a different kind of crazy, fashion, and lastly who I'm going to die as. Let's talk about this combo next time.
I try so hard not to scratch at scabs, but scars fascinate me. Perhaps that's the reason I'm attracted to characters such as Mello, Zuko, and that one man with an all too common name. Perhaps that's why I did what I did last night and also the reason why I only brought one bandage to a scene of 8 cuts.
How hard is it to sit on the floor. The reason I do it is to stay awake. Sleep is for the weak, or so they say. Mostly, I'm afraid of dreaming about something I am running away from: life. I like to feel lucid and away all at the same time. I like to feel the feeling when the question of "What is a feeling?" is asked. Does that make sense or am I already too tired to realise that I'm blabbering on about something that's so insignificant in this world.
Back to the scene right here at 11:40PM. My back aches, my stomach aches, my cuts burn and my scars scream for a re-opening.
I have a problem: motivation. I don't have enough to do anything. There's this thing I'm doing, writing blog posts but it's just a fucking diary isn't it? Or, again, word vomit. But motivation to drive, to work out, to work, sleep, write, read, study, whatever it is, I don't have any motivation for it. Which is why I'm all talk no work. Which is why my organised crime idea will stay an idea and I'll stay out of jail.
There are 4 things that give me life, they are included in this combo. Perks, a different kind of crazy, fashion, and lastly who I'm going to die as. Let's talk about this combo next time.
~C.
(P.S. it seems easy to word vomit, hard to actually talk about life and myself. funny how i work... because i really don't work at all)
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