Thursday, October 2, 2008
My voice is louder than his, and I know, if I keep it up any longer than I already have, all the sinners in hell will gleefully rejoice upon my feet while the godliness of heaven will frown upon me like I am the Saddam Hussein of my time. But... he, the once nice man who gave me chocolate to munch on every Friday for the past 2 years, has turned, went behind my back about 10 minutes or so ago, and ruthlessly stab me in the back. After such humanistic deliberation, I have lost respect for him, which brings all the invisible audience of this great New Year's Eve surprise of such peculiar noise which gracefully overlays the suppose happy festivity.
As loud as my voice can get, I can only hear me--meek, hands shaking out of anguish. The mother who I thought would have stood up for me, sits at her glorious kitchen table, head shaking, agreeing to what this man is wrongfully accusing me of. A complete stranger, she takes his argument. I am wounded now; I thought 5 minutes ago I would be able to save myself from drowning... but because above anything else, her translucent power can weaken me even more, I am struggling to keep my head above water. This New Year's eve has collapsed like the twin tower; if only banging the front door so loud will shaken and awaken all those unsupportive souls that my family upholds, I will do so--thrice even. I am out in the door and I feel like my expected year 2008 is cursed forever. My friends cheer me up but being brought up to the reality of this night, it makes me feel worst knowing my friends are suffering to, with weak knees and some gnarling bellies full of cold, California air... we are walking out in these dangerous streets of nothing but awkward silence amongst us.
We have been quiet for sometime now. The only noise that can be heard are the fireworks indicating buoyancy from far-away celebrations (not where we are, anyway) and the winds whistle as they try to pester our expose skin. I am debating to myself whether to apologize when I already do unconsciously. Nobody replies; just the tick-tock of our steps and the bells ringing from the nearby church which indicates the strike of midnight...of new year. I wish that what this is... what happened tonight will not commence to the future months. Other people can be so superstitious that it tends to affect my security of what the world is all about. I know I will not have terrible nights like this forever. To make sure however (because no one is for certain how life is for anybody), I wish my days will be better than running away from the home life that have constantly troubled me inside.
If there is anyone that's making this night right, is him... who is currently...after all that has happened tonight, making me somewhat happy.
---I feel as if New Year's Eve is ages ago. I feel as if he, who shall remain nameless now, had intruded in my life and left nasty foot marks... about ages ago too. But it haven't been; it has only been 10 months ago that all my of confusements abound my inexperience mind. All the rights and the wrongs only happened this year... and when I thought it was going to be just another of this... it hasn't been. Life as I know started off center stage when he barge into my life unannounced...
And looking back now, I ask myself... "Who would have thought?"
My mind's unweaving/ 10:50 PM
Warning: This personal blog can be fatal to your health; read responsibly. Fasten seatbelt when doing so.
Tis written unlike no other in my attempt for creativity. Here, you'll find *fragmented fictional and real stories that are relevant to my life in some ways. I don't enumerate things that happens to me everyday nor do i purposely rant about lame, stupid "teenage" cliches. My entries are from memory, past experiences, reviews (food, book, movie) and my opinions on current issues--and no, no politics whatsoever. Grammatically incorrect to a degree but nothing that can make you squirm (or so I hope not).
P.S. Put in mind that I'm a scrumptious-looking cupcake and you know you can never, EVER, resist me...so no hating or you'll never get to eat "us" again! lol
YOU, CHATTERBOX, YOU.
designer : kathleen
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