It's so weird. Sometimes we know that what we're doing is wrong, but yet we still carry on doing it. Like you're a puppet on a string, being mindlessly controlled by an invisible ventriloquist. Where did my brain go? All the neurons and synapses are under the vice-like grip of a mad scientist. (I only dream of you, my beautiful) van you have to stop, the angel in me says. Oh well, can't help being devil's advocate at times huh? I guess it's natural human behaviour, to stubbornly hold on to the familiar although it's so so so WRONG to do so.
What does betrayal smell like? Will it reek of something putrid, like the stench of a decaying corpse? Or will it be something milder, like someone who overdosed on perfume? Or maybe - it would even be.. sweet. Like roses, baby powder, the sicksweet smell of raw honey, fresh from the hive. Maybe it would be odourless. Or it could smell like wood. Pine, Oak, Maple. How about vinegar? Car fumes?
Even KM is against me. It won't let me delete stuff. Stupid moronic system. Everything's gonna be alright, rockabye. We all dream of our own pots of gold at the end of the rainbow, but what happens if someone else gets there before you do, and you, like Silas Marner, find your gold MISSING!! Whatchugonnado? Walk to the other end of the rainbow, maybe. Hopefully, with guidance from a leprechaun on your way. If there aint no leprechauns, you just gotta do it yourself. Pick yourself up when you stumble, and, I quote James Patterson, "move the hell on". We Live.
Vanessa Lim 1:23 p. m.
