recentaboutlinksarchive
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
Like, we stole the sunlight.
Written on: Friday, January 8, 2010
Time: 11:38 PM

Dated: 13 Apr 2009
Choir practice at Victoria Concert Hall cut my school time short. It was...an experience to actually be there, and since I haven't set foot in that place for two years now, it felt like a homecoming. The hall wasn't as intimidating as it felt like during 2007's SYF judging. Silence sets in immediately and I felt I was being swallowed up by the faded white walls as we entered the premises. The building looked like it had been stopped in time: that was how it looked like, stubbornly adhereing to the Victorian architecture, holding its only tower high although the surrounding skyscrapers had already won. It would look seriously anachronistic, if not for the fact that the Court of Justice and many other preserved buildings were in a similar state, furnishings and all. It was gorgeous.

I was very exhausted by the time the school bus drove the choir back. Listened to MCR again and tried to go to sleep but obviously it didn't work. I had glutinous rice for lunch but it wasn't very filling. Had to keep from falling asleep during the extra lessons and dragged myself painfully up to Chemistry Lab 1 for a practical an hour later. It was more than the usual torture but it was clear practicing under the strong lighting in heeled dress shoes had taken its toll somehow. Something very embarrassing happened during the practice, which I would have wicked delight of disclosing but I don't feel like being mean today. Sigh, I don't even like her, so I would have done her a great favour by hiding this from the world. This, however, doesn't prevent my fellow friends from divulging it in their blogs.

Sometimes I earnestly wish everyone else would leave me alone. On other times, abandonment becomes my worst fear. I think I should ask for a psychoanalysis for clearance. I wonder if this is just a by-product of maturation, fearing everything and nothing. Sigmund Freud ought to have done something useful on this while he still lived.

Psychologists.

I wish I was better at ranting. Some people provide the most marvellous rants: they ramble, curse and swear and everything still comes out comprehensible, entertaining and simply wonderful. I wish I described anger better, or even attempt something that doesn't flop. I feel like a twelve year old trying out 'fuck' on my tongue. This takes some getting used to.

Labels: ,