Ok. I’m bored silly so I just wanna write and write and keep writing none stop. I better express myself when I put pen down on paper or as the case may be keyboard to blog. Lol.
Ever since I could recall, I’ve always preferred saying anything I’ll say on paper. The days of writing letters to my dad to get things or apologise. They always worked because there’s something heartfelt about words being put down on paper; they find a way to tug at your heart.
I feel like writing a letter or just sending emails back and forth; but the one person I’ll like most to email right now probably hates my guts, and in love with someone else who doesn’t fail to spell it out to me that he has feelings for her.
Sigh! These days I just want to go underground and bury myself somewhere.
I won’t call myself an onion with different layers because I’m not – I think I’m a Chameleon, in a good way though – I have the ability to adapt to whatever situation I find myself no matter how uncomfortable I feel in my own skin.
Right now, I’m changing sides and my emotions are sending fireworks all over the place, and I wish it wasn’t that way but I guess like he says “your situation is not peculiar”.
The villain of my story with the metal heart, I wonder which I am now – the naive girl with the plastic heart.
Writing just makes it easier always, it’s my escape from everything. I go to a world where everything becomes wonderful instead of filled with strings and strings of mistakes that are laced with metaphors, oxymoronic situations and nobody fully getting the need to breathe. So instead of drowning in desperation, I awaken to hope which never disappoints.