Newspapers-

The child closed the door, and ran to the cupboard. He opened it, sweeping his mop of messy black hair aside as he surveyed the things in the cupboard, hands on his waist. With a soft joyful cry, he pulled out a stack of newspapers, and carried them a few at a time to the window, placing them one on top of the other. A pause as he stopped to think, and he ran back to the pile, got to his knees and started pushing the whole pile to the window. And as they formed a small little stack, he stood back to admire his handiwork.

Gingerly, he placed one small foot onto the stack, and by means of the window grilles, hoisted himself up so that he had both feet planted firmly on the stack. It wobbled a little and he gazed down tentatively at it. But a cool wind caressed his cheek and he turned his face to the window. And oh oh, what a view.

He looked at the velvety black sky, with the stars scattered out among it like diamonds, so sparkly they were. Hmm? What was that he heard? Did someone say "toy"?

"I repeat, Charles Benjamin Wheeler. My heart IS not a TOY!" his mother shrieked.

Oh.

He looked wistfully at the sky, but clambered down clumsily, threw a towel over the newspaper, and climbed onto the bed. Switching off the lights, he did his night prayer, and snuggled into the blanket.

The ceiling swirled with shadows, but he had long ago learnt not to go running to his parents with fears of monsters. He shut his eyes tight, stifled the urge to let the tears fall.

It'll be ok tomorrow. His parents will bring him out to play tomorrow. And they'll have fun. His dad will push him at the swings, his mom would catch him as he slide down the slide. They'll pick seashells together and laugh as they throw it back into the sea. He'll be allowed to keep those lovely pieces of glass washed smooth by the sea. They'll smile together at the sunset. There'll be lots of hugs and kisses.

It'll be ok tomorrow.

It had to be.

At first it was as usual. Hands slung over knee. Music blaring in his ears. A calm demeanour on the outside, eyes gazing ahead, but oh oh, in a spilt second, the music,it was almost too much for him to bear. Swirling around him with its crescendo, it was so focused, so real. That lively passion in the music, oh, he could quiver, quiver at the way it was running through him, pulling him in.

This strange foreign joy. He could keep still, nonchalant on the outside, but the inside, the inside, it was brimming full of the sweetest - the season of spring flowing through him. Such freshness, such vibrancy.

He bathed himself in it. The music flowed on. At times, he would try to remember certain parts of the tune. But he could never grasped it. But sweet it was, like being able to touch the cloud and find that it's really fluffy and soft, better than all you imagined. And you could just lie in it, get oneself comfortable.

It was being away from the realms of reality.

He closed his eyes.

lullaby of a witch that draws me to sleep-

Listen. Do you hear the witch's call?

No. Don't perk your ears up for it. Lie down. Breathe. Close your eyes. And listen.

I am caught. Snared by it. The song of the witch lulls me on. It's sending shivers down my spine, but I have no need to run. It's my friend.

In a trance, walk on. Would you like to follow me? Let's go see the witch. She's very beautiful. Do you know that? She's so heart-achingly beautiful...

Let's go on.

We've reached. Can you see her? No... relax. Here, sit against this stone. Now close your eyes. Hum. Let that lullaby flow through you, going through you in its raw form. Don't try to control it. Let it flow and ebb through you. It will never overtake you. Now open your eyes slowly.

I can't get to her. There she is, right in front of me, but I can't get to her. Every step I take takes me closer, but I can never get to her. See that tear on her cheek? I wish to wipe it away from her. But everytime I try, she looks at me and reply, "it's alright."

I grope in the air, searching for a word that will correctly describe the substance of my feelings, but I can't. I search in my heart, but it refuses to reveal.

Her wings are not that of angels. Neither are they of devils.

I've fallen deep deep into her charm. Stuck like a fish in her fishbowl. The sight of her, always there in front of me, but I can never get to her. Yet there she is, right in front of me, absent-mindedly pouring food out for me.

In the most senseless of things, one manages to find more sense in other matters.

It's best if you go now.

I've lost my appetite again. And feel giddy. And everything.

Words that seems to be said only for the sake of being said. Words uttered to seek acceptance/forgiveness?
But of what use is an apology if it is not even certain whether the person uttering that word knows what he did wrong, how he had hurt the person? "Sorry if I did anything to make you angry." Anything?

A tangled maze of confusion.

One can deceive oneself. And when the art is mastered so that it becomes truth for that person...

What was I saying?

You know only half of the story. I know fully and it gives me headaches. A jungle of emotions, heartaches, desires, thoughts.

May I be allowed to rest in a mild soothing numbness again? And leaning towards you to hear what you say, replying before sinking back? It's so comfortable, so peaceful. And I don't have to think about other stuff then, just listening.

It has really been a pleasant memory.

But isn't it funny too? I yearn for a sense of security when I know the Lord is already protecting me. I desire a listening ear when the Lord is ever ready to listen to me. I long for human embrace when the Lord has me in his arms. I'm feel as if I'm straying from him yet he's still looking out for me.

Look at the world through rain-splattered lens.
Keep your mouth sealed.
Because I am just oh-so gullible.

I had to hear it from you.

Run with all your might, your strength, your heart, your will. Legs stretch out, head tucked down. Feel that blood rushing, feel your heart beating, JUMP!

Run onto the grass. Get your slopes slippery. Back onto the main track; run with the fear of slipping and twisting something. Continue running. Run and warn the others!! “He’s coming, he’s coming. RUNN”

Run and make a sudden turn onto the road. Crouch down behind the bushes. Pant. Hear the freezer scream out. Hear the pattering of feet. Hear the shrieks, hear the laugher.

Peek from behind the bushes. See no one and run again! No silly, not back there. Take a different route girl. Run through the blocks. See no one and dash out. Run AGAIN!

Put your hands on your knee while you rest for a while. Jog a little on the spot. Get SIGHTED! RUN RUN RUN!

Dodge and run. Avoid the grass because of the fear of slipping. Uh oh, seriously inconvenient. DODGE!

Run down and get caught. Laugh. Scream for help? Nah. I’ve damaged my throat enough. Chair nearby, let’s go lie down!

Close your eyes and hear the beating of your heart. Thump thump thump. Breathe.

I have never been goal-orientated and thus never buck up motivation to go run for practice.

But today running was good... even though I performed badly.

Trust so fragile.
"And I trusted you."

A light promise, so you say. But I, I have broken my word to you. Doing the very thing that has made me upset.

In a moment of folly, of weak will and cunning ideas, I have fallen to temptation, gave in. Curiosity killed that cat.

Betrayal. At first glance it sounds like a harsh word, but one knows it's true.

A moment of carelessness? No! I had it all planned out.

To think I even brought faith in.

Idealist (NF)

You are a passionate, caring, and unique person.
You are good at expressing yourself and sharing your ideals.

You are the most compassionate of all types and connect with others easily.
Your heart tends to rule you. You can't make decisions without considering feelings.

You seek out other empathetic people to befriend.
Truth and authenticity matters in your friendships.

In love, you give everything you have to relationships. You fall in love easily.

At work, you crave personal expression and meaning in your career.

With others, you communicate well. You can spend all night talking with someone.

As far as your looks go, you've likely taken the time to develop your own personal style.

On weekends, you like to be with others. Charity work is also a favorite pastime of yours.

Eh....

It is not raining.

Neither is the sun shining.

Night has fallen.

Stars scattered out among the velvety black like diamonds? I wish, but it’s the lights of the flats out beyond that twinkle, and not the stars.

I just saw a very beautiful belt - sleek, smooth with that shiny metal clasp. No, it’s not a highly reflective shine. More like this soft tender shine to it. Tender. So that’s how metal can be described to me – tender.

A cool dull metal described as tender. What images does that provoke in your mind?

Somehow, I crave to be outside now, taking pictures.

A kind of wildness in me has awoken. It stretches out lazily and yawns. And then it’s prowling around. Exploring its surroundings? Perhaps.

It’s me.

I want to go out at night. Sit somewhere high where I can see the stars. Look across the waters. I want a camera beside me, and I can take various photographs, from strange unique angles. Capture life in its fleeting moment. Of a bird flying across the sky. Of leaves swaying in the breeze. A cat slinking away. A leaf floating slowly down.

And how about a deserted road? Look at it, with the streetlights shining down on it. Imagine sitting down there – either with no fear of cars coming, or with trepidation that a car might come.

A few more years perhaps, and that might happen. I can wait, I can.

But such romantic ideals are often shattered in reality’s wake.

And I wonder, so what if they happen? What would they be, with no one to share it with?

Many moments were special, memorable, because someone else was also there.

And many moments, I was bursting with something to share. And there was no one to share it with. I don't know my neighbours. None are near my age anyway. Either very old, or very young. It's been a long time since I called a friend just to chat. I don't think I even have numbers of my friends in the first place now.

The moment does fade.

And people forget when they are not reminded.