It is also only recently, when I am able to pen down words, and not be too overwhelmed, choked with those. Emotions. I took the first step with that piece. I dived back in into that ocean deep inside me, and allowed myself to drown, absolutely drown in ambiguity, and I wrote that piece. I did it in the afternoon, I continued it on at night, late into early morning. It was short, 500 plus words, and I gave it to her.
I detached myself from it. I think. But I'm not sure.
And private entries remain private. Locked and sealed with 8*2 characters. Some aspects are still too dear, too close to my heart.
I don’t have an affinity with words. It is with those tangled live wires of emotions that I am stuck with, live jolting current, every single one of them. But words are the only best way I’m able to vent it away. I can’t draw. I can’t make art. I can’t exhaust myself in physical exertion for that is only but a temporary high, a blissful dream when my brain focus on getting those muscles to work. But with words, they are slowly let out. Somehow.
But oh, how vain I am, to actually sometimes feel that need for an audience. To have someone else piece the various characters, various words like a jigsaw picture, fitting the scattered thoughts in, to have just that slightest slightest inkling of what I’m going through.
I am going to have to change my blog url once again soon.
Words words. Words I construct on this blog. Words I construct speaking to an acquaintance. Yet a trap.
So what happened today? What led to today? You want to know?
Well! I'll tell you! Even. if it kills me. I'll look into your eyes, I'll look right at them, meeting you right their at the window of souls, I'll look at those black orbs, and I'll tell you, "I am sick of ambiguity." And if anything in your eyes hints just the slightest sense of not understanding, I would scream, shout out loud and bold, "I AM SICK OF AMBIGUITY."
(But of course, that is just the response I wish I would give. But formality, and manners, years of grooming from parents would just cause me to smile at you as I shrug my shoulders. But in words, in words, I have the power to create that scene. It's crazy, it's mad, it's insane. But oh, let's continue on. Indeed, let us continue on!)
And so I went to him. I went to him, I said my piece and I didn't really look into his eyes. It took pure crazy courage to even approach him, but that's what I did. Looking into his eyes would have killed me, dissolving all my guts.
(But have you ever looked into a person's eyes. To look at the person in the eye, really directly into those black orbs, and not just in the person's general direction. One-on-one. I have. For a few seconds. The world disappears. It's intense, too much for me to bear, and I looked away again, back onto my shoes. That's all I have done before, to look directly. I cannot imagine searching a person's eyes. I wonder how it will be like)
He agreed. And thus you have today.
And afterwards, I skipped half an hour of cca, to have my lunch, and talk to this acquaintance of mine. I thought before I talked, I measured the weight of my words, and I told her all
And suddenly I was free.
It was but one single conversation I was seeking. Not a conversation with any one specific, but just that one single conversation for me to be able to measure my words, find expressions, let it out. To have another living person, listening to me. To be calmed down by that, and thus think.
But Oh! Who am I to desire for that!
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