gobbledygooks

Super’s cool,
Super’s everything to you,
I don’t super-stand-a-chance with you.
With super smile,
He drives you wild,
His maturity, compared,
I’d seem like a child.

Super’s super,
I wish I am too,
I wish I’m cuter, fitter,
I don’t think I am
Super’s cooler,
With more followers on twitter,
He’s much more friendlier,
Gets along with your friends better,
Super’s super,
And I don’t super-stand-a-chance.

Super’s super,
He’s hard to get,
You’re his chaser,
Make my eyes wet,
You’re super too,
You’ll make his heart melt,
You’ll sweep him off his feet,
Just like what I felt.

You’re super,
Super’s super,
You’re super together,
And I don’t super-stand-a-chance.

Oh. I have a blog. Okay. And sorry. This should be published earlier. Imagine I posted this on mm, err, sometime in April, okay? alright.

I have not been doing anything much in the holidays. I didn’t go to work. Running errands around town, and maybe sometimes I would just go out with my friends. My life’s kinda dull. And of course I’m the one to blame lah for my own boredom. 

I’ve been playing the piano. I put on my earphone on one side and let my other ear hear the piano as I press the keys. Yeah, I depend on my mp3 player to tell me how’s the rhythm and such, and then my fingers just try to press the keys. I don’t know id the keys are precise, but I didn’t care, at least the sound is there, it sounds a little bit like the song, haha. I love music.

Speaking of interests, I think I’ve been neglecting my other hobby, sketching. Art. I love art since I was little. Watching home video tapes of times when I was younger, I’ll see myself on the colouring book, constantly colouring, adding details to parts that I like. I wanted to be an artist. But nowadays, the interest just dims itself like faint burning charcoal, waiting for some wind for it to burn brighter. I don’t feel like drawing anything lately. I’m afraid that I won’t draw as well as I used to. I’m afraid of that. but I don’t feel like drawing anything. so I don’t.

Reading, been reading the same book. It’s been a month now. Kafka On the Shore by Haruki Murakami. Maya bought it. I only read when there’s no electricity. or when I wanted to. Gosh I should  spend my time to read more.

My interest-of-doing-anything level during the holidays is just so dim. or is it always this dim?

Looking at past relationships (or not really relationships), my companion’s fondness towards me will evaporate in the ripeness of time, most of the time without me realizing it. Yes, most of the time without me realizing it. And in the ripeness of time, also, they’ll call it off (or if it’s not even an “it” yet even, in most cases), without me anticipating anything. And I guess you’ll know what happens to my heart after that, right?

he sings a song of Silence to me,

strums his guitar he calls Life,

its strings made of Problems of he,

its body made of Absence he lays on his thighs,

he holds its neck made of Emotions,

lyrics came from his stream of Conscience.

xo

his lyrics full of sighs, his lyrics full of sighs.

I fell on the river surface,

Currents so wild and fierce,

I was dazed,

But I had to face my fears.

,

As I fell,

A sharp rock edge kissed my spine,

Painful just like your silence,

Haunts my muscles just like your kisses.

 ,

I drifted away,

Rocks too slippery to grip on,

Branches too brittle to hold on,

I glided away.

 ,

My skin blue, red and white,

Blue, punched by the boulders,

Red, scraped by thorns,

White, bleached by the chillness of the waters.

 ,

From the peak of the waterfall,

I plunged, tumbled, fell,

Into the white foam,

And after that I could not recall.