So lethargic.
Whirlpool. Flush it all away. Zoomzoomzoomwhee. I hate how things are at this point of time. Meaningless and empty. Switching off during morning run. Not knowing what I'm doing nor why I'm doing what I'm doing. Detached and alone, I wander. Not too far away, for somehow we receive unpleasant jolts of reality that send you crashing down down down back to earth. And you land. HARD. Like a stinging slap to the face. Like when you trip, and you don't even know what caused you to trip. Shelter. I need shelter. It's raining on me. Pelting me with raindrops of colossal proportions, and it hurts.
Each bus ride to and from school is a psychological journey. I saw your reflection in the window. Do you remember? The buildings, the people, they whizz past. Such infinitesmal and picayune beings, victim of life's rhythm. Staring blankly at nothing in particular, and I'm sure my eyes are glazed. I see your reflection in the window again. I see you in the eyes of the old lady two seats away. I see you, multiplied a hundredfold, in the eyes of the little boy tugging on his mother's sleeves. Do you remember? Or is the past a mere shadow, receding?
"There's a thousand words that I could say
To make you come home"
For you I bled. For you I bleed. I fear to enter my dreamland, though in it I seek solace. I fear imagination, though through it I find escapism. I think, but my thoughts are in vain. Imagination, a double-edged sword. Pricks you. Teases you. Then it plunges into you. And you awake. To find that it wasn't, and isn't gonna come true.
"But the truth remains.
You're gone"
Vanessa Lim 12:20 p. m.
