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INFORMATION

Someone speaks softly through the horror and pain:
'Love has gone, but it could come again.'
Spring arrives quietly, warming her skin
Her heart, now red, is beating again
- Hannah Fury, 'Someone Speaks Softly'

Not a writer but a professional student. Instead I can be the jaded passer-by that caught a glimpse of a fling or a fatal mistake, a murder in the back alley, and I keep it all to myself so I don't lose any of it during the spilling from heart to paper on an unimaginary dark night. I write opinions, facts, emotions and other satisfied sentences that are the offspring of my imagination and external influences. And I do not need your validation to live, for the record.

CONTACT

FS/augustkills
FP/thepapercult
LJ/snipethedoctor
WP/electricsleeves

CREDITS

Icon: DW/tablesaw
Layout: tuesdaynight
Inspiration: DayBefore!Misery
Deviant.
Written on: Monday, January 11, 2010
Time: 6:56 PM

I did not cry today. These were the only words going through my head as I held the results slip where I sat in the hall, wondering how strange it must seem to the overly-emotional. Although I had an admirable 8 marks to my name, and I made the honorary mentions list on the presentation slide, I never smiled or shed a tear. I tried to, but the grins always came out incongruous, and even my hurried 'thank you' to the Principal as I stood on stage to claim my results slip from here seemed out of place; everything unorchestrated is wrong. I thought I should enjoy myself, so I stopped trying. It was as if my emotions have been bottled up, like they would have been savoured better when I would uncork the bottle known better as my heart alone in my room tonight.

But do not get me wrong as the others do; I am ecstatic, beyond happiness, for no words alone can describe anything I've felt within in the past four hours. I have plans, possibilities, and it's hard to focus on anything when I'm still feeling thunderstruck and numbed. This is supposed to be a new year with new beginnings, but my room is still messy with last year's books and papers and disjointed sentences.

THIS HAS NOT BEEN A TRAGEDY. THE LORD BE PRAISED.

I prayed last night.

It makes me feel alive; after the monotony of holiday fun it's only dutiful to be back to serious business. I will visit JC open houses, watch a few movies and exit the theatres feeling happier than I have ever been. Sherlock Holmes tomorrow; my father knows not how to spell it. A pity, really.

I'm trying to write more, this is notedly one of my new year resolutions and I plan to keep it till December. There is an interesting book on generating philosophical thought at the bookstore: originally meant for the General Paper but I think short essays would make a wholesome read on half an hour journeys.

Went to the library too: it feels almost like a home one returns to after wandering in some dense wilderness. The Central Library divides its Fiction section into Thrillers, Romances and General Books and I forgot that completely before looking for my book in the wrong section. Fortunately I spotted the notice just in time or else I would've walked out disappointed for coming such a long way for it. Sometimes I arrive at a shelf just as another is browsing there and most of the time I'm patient enough to wait. However I found it so annoying when I'm wait conspicuously beside a young woman and she hovers there uncertainly, biding her time and hogging the space in front of the shelf. She finally leaves emptyhanded while I worry about getting home by 5pm.

On some days I find it increasingly hard to separate fiction and reality, when both seem to blend into each other, especially when I concentrate too hard.

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