____________________________________
So pre-warned, if not, hurry along off.
;)
Most horrendous physical week ever. Having these insomnias, were the worst in 4 years. Physically tired, yet IM still 'PUMPING' till the sun rise. Even sleeping that 3 hours, I am still pretty much awake after. I am no nocturnal yet I am insane. -_-""
I do not even know where to start this . Yet I have certain things I would like to jot down for myself. I remember that my short term memory has gotten worst but fret not, this blog and leather brown book is helping me to jot down the tiny bits of moments.
I am not sure whether I have mention this yet. I have asked a friend to assist me in doing up a photo autobiography during my last semester here in Melbourne. It might just be the final goodbye to this beautiful place where I grew up, self-discovery, founded myself in many ways which are, unexpressionable.
As I was thinking about certain things and reflecting, it hit me about certain things. This photo autobriography, might just help me through my memory lane, going back through each architecture to find back those flimed memories. Those gardens, cafes has become an intrinsic being in me. Each touch, each atmosphere, it feels as though I was back to go through those certain emotions. Bitter sweet I guess. My iconic memory always seem better.
Some times tracking along these places, my emotion just hits a certain level of blankness. A subtle tear might fall. For all those sweet memories of ironic situations has made up this future of us; friendships, lovers. I just want to try to capture back that lost moment in me, which I can never get to capture it myself. I can forge that posture. But I need someone to see it past his lens, through my eyes, caught me offguard.
Thank you Joel. ;)
Enlightments I get. Let me just take a dip through a third person's point of view.
That young woman sat at her table, the pen shaking back and froth, occasionally tapping the wooden table."Tok Tok Tok', with the other hand supporting her chin. She was looking out at that beautiful sea view, with those glassy eyes. A world in her own with that accompanying orange sunset with greyish blue clouds. There was something about her, she is part of this whole painted picture. Occasionally she scribbles furiously, occasionally only the pen has contact with the paper at that 10 good seconds.
The way she smokes speaks a great deal of her personality. The way she light her ciggarette at different situations. The way she tries to click that lighter, different type of approaches. The way how she holds her ciggarettes, speaks volumes. Each drag takes on different rythmn. Yet her body movements are like an expression of art. A walking contridiction yet of such subtle spoken clusters.
Her life is like a movie. Not a continuos one but a fragmented one which ends with a connected end that links. Yet like a book with different chapters that starts off differently with different memorable situations. Conclusions were her favourite because she knows the art of peicing the fragmented parts together. She was all in all a weird girl next door with a quirky sense of fashion.
There. Oh wells, not the best third person's view of myself. But not bad of an effort.
Though I have one more paper yet thats not in my mind for now.
To the 1st you:
Baby, You can get what you want,
Your dreams, ambitions and hopes.
You may get those lucky chicks that parade infront of you,
Those pimping hot ladies,
Yet there is something you have forgotten.
Baby, I am no longer that chick that is behind you.
To give you your support behind the scenes.
I am no chick for you to make a fool of after,
To be use when you need me.
Baby boy, you maybe mentally hot,
But you treated me like ruggard paper later on.
Forgetting everything that was between us for that period of time.
Baby boy, you made my heart torn into shreads,
Put me through my own emotional & mental test.
But yet Baby boy, you never know how much I went through.
Yet crawling back and finding myself again,
Ive got to thank you for being a catalyst.
Baby boy, I just hope, for the last time when I leave this world,
You will remember those things between us,
Rather than some chick you take for granted and a big fool after.
Rather than some chick you know through actions later rather than herself before.
Because baby boy,
All along, I was just your white chocolate rather than that dark chocolate.
But you were my dark chocolate for that period of time.
For that 2nd you:
Entering into this 3rd year of misunderstanding actions,
I wonder boy what is right or wrong.
I wonder how did we even have something surreal in the beginning.
Yet I was disappointed for that evenings' action.
No more unclose chapters.
If I am to leave for good before we sort this out verbally,
I will make the move.
Those butterfly actions are no longer in my league,
Because of those dangers I perceived.
But you captured my memories like a string of pearl necklance.
Where each pearl is limited and reflected different light.
No more sorries because we have walked away long ago.
At this moment we are simply,
Siblings & Guardian Angels.
Just the simple way it has always been.
--------------
What a long post.
Jotted emotions once again expressed.
I wonder how will my aviator be like?
=)