choice is an idiot else I am the bigger fool. you’re lucky you know just what to do how everything worked out for you. fate is no timely opportune. days are carved. meant solely for the ones who dare to. despite all fragility, reluctance and unspoken dread. in this life what will I find? mother spoke of a sacrifice she made for us quite long ago forsaking what might be every ounce of want and desire for maternal gain. one day mother, we’ll be there together. desire’s such a selfish thing. at times, we rely on time to make things better but time rarely ever does. so many different versions of myself around different people. is that an act of trying to kindly accommodate? let me be the only carrier of the weight of my burden. what rambunctious drama a volatile drinker does maketh. no sense of urgency is that irresponsibility? I’d like to be married to ice cream. lest, a similar flavour everyday. you’ve aged. you’ve gained weight. you’re beautiful. you haven’t changed. what does it matter anyways. complimentary speech doesn’t often bring about humility which is what’s lacking in so many. kindness is the only sensible human flattery. shyness is a form of self vanity. would never be anywhere I am today without music. to be alone with it is what I seek unsettlingly obsessively. to be entwined and one with it. every note, every melody, every tune, every harmony’s a necessary symphony. found solace in the ease of a stranger’s smile the other day. what if we smiled instead of speak or converse with music oh I think that’s what the world needs. I like the bright of the morning light. yet the dark of night is might. people often only want to talk so, often, I just listen and nod. the comfort of being alone sometimes might seem unsettling for I fear for a time that I might confuse aloneness for loneliness. that won’t ever do. you can’t hurt me any more than your non reciprocation. committed to uncommitment. such sureness isn’t a tragedy. there is an underrated appreciation and understanding in the beauty of valuing freedom. courage is trying even when engulfed in fear and overwhelming uncertainty. go on anyways and be. just be.

I feel intricately at the most oddest of hours; I want so much to feel how I felt being outside taking photographs by myself knowing so surely it is what I want to do for the the rest of my life yet life always has a mind of its own. and always, too often bloody always, circumstances intervenes.

there is a fear in me of overcoming things. a reoccurring anxiety I should abandon with courage. the past is always bittersweet. I’m going to leave even before I leave. optimistic pessimist. to write and draw and photograph always regardless of what anybody thinks. the other day at work, a student’s innocent comment brought upon a wholehearted laugh I haven’t remembered to do in quite a while. why are some relatives mine, I don’t care two hoots about them. those who know nothing are often the ones who speak of everything with such passionate arrogance, of anything they don’t know much about at all. people I can’t quite comprehend. I only like them when they’re kind. isolation seems the most comforting antidote. I hold in too much. you shouldn’t have said that. we shouldn’t have met. if you don’t see me in a while please do know that I am fine it isn’t an obligation of mine to meet up once in a while to talk of selfish things that takes up time. mother I love you like the moon and I hope you know that I’d like to tell you that too only in the things I do. sure is lovely to have you as my sisters I am grateful.

saturday’s now rather tarnished. thinking of it alone induces diarrhoea like symptoms. work is work is work a good thing? I’ll never once again give myself in to life’s cruel tendencies. realisation retrieved. aftermath of succumbing. regret filled. quite distant from my limbs doing whatever it is required of me, of the world, of traditions, of religion, of circumstance, of this goddamned routine we re-live, only to get by. we have such needy souls ceaselessly desiring to be understood. if only we could come to terms and apprehend for good that one can’t ever be completely understood, perhaps we’ll be much closer to understanding ourselves better(being understood). these days I’m rarely alone although we’re all somehow always alone; with what we are. how I yearn so. to be alone with the rustle of leaves with the aimless wind as company. a certain reoccurring yearning ache within. ironically comforting. dressed always for another weather, an alternate season. could it be perhaps I’m made for another continent, a separate world altogether. mother, tell me what sort of a child I was because I can’t seem to remember if I’ve ever been this distant in speech. never in presence though for we’ll always be bonded by blood, forevermore. how can I ever forget how we look when we smile and how your laugh sounds every time. unsettling to think someday we all shall eventually leave. superficiality’s so very consuming. fake smiling my way through social ordeals. some were born to love and breed oh god how I won’t ever be. I wasn’t born to fit that mould. can’t be any other obligations more burdening than ones like these. yet go on. thrive on joyful happenings. present, past and gone.

remembering is forgetting too.

smiling faces
a certain alphabet
hip hop
go pros
shoulder length hair
art friend
past un-reciprocations
drawing pens
spray cans

are only some of the things that reminds me of you.
just earlier this morning a strange thought came to my mind, in the form of a favour, a conversation between two (for dialogues in books most often resonates) to mend it all for it was nobody’s fault,
I:"would you built me a swing then I’ll forget everything"
he: "if I built you a swing how will you ever forget everything?"
I: "but remembering is forgetting too."

and then everything dissolved into wind and we were back to being strangers feeling nothing as it should be in the first place, as it should remain, always.

I’ve never wanted more than ever now to drop everything I’m doing to be doing only the thing that would make me relentlessly free and happy and that is by making music for no monetary achievement and no particular selfish reasons regardless of however it shall be perceived/received. music gets me through even the most turbulent of days. I have never felt alone ever since I found it.  

I draw because I can’t draw. what makes me unhappy are assumptions of unhappiness when I am quite the opposite condition. how prejudiced the measure of contemplated joy. the sky’s my one true loyal companion, rain or shine. I only believe in unrequited love. be gone the envy I feel for the one you relentlessly pine for and think of without any tire at all. positivity’s been around consistently yet I keep forgetting it needs to come from within. some young ones I love, some others I loathe at the thought of the sort of adult they might grow to become. sometimes technology makes us appear foolish. no other antidote quite more powerful than music and solitude. you’d come to mean so much to me.I know. my heart isn’t here. my soul is tied to the music of yesterday and the tugging promises of tomorrow. ever pulled by its hopeful woes and sorrows. we’re merely strangers amongst strangers. normality is disinteresting just as perfection is a bore. what will become of we.of I. of my hopes and dreams. perhaps like a forgotten memory it’ll all drift away quietly, like a destination-less journey entwined with the wind. 

a cat is a good pet,unless you’re 40.
someone scribbled this rather age prejudiced quote on the back of a bus seat on my way to work a couple of days ago but why I wouldn’t know. except I feel cats should be owned by anyone anywhen they want to.

a cat is a good pet,
unless you’re 40.

someone scribbled this rather age prejudiced quote on the back of a bus seat on my way to work a couple of days ago but why I wouldn’t know. except I feel cats should be owned by anyone anywhen they want to.

I’ve lived with not much for so long,I can live with not much for longer.non reciprocation’s residue is a relentless trail of mustful kindness resulting in an ever present guilt(in me).I won’t ever be bored I can but I won’t how could I ever when there’s so many books to get absolutely lost in yet so little time.why do I always yearn to be elsewhere.not that cynical happy doesn’t suit me just fine.I’ll be alright as long as there lives music.pretentious fair weathered friends aren’t as terribly loathsome and disturbingly offensive as daft ones who asks for nothing but favours only.if I’d wanted to come up with project’s concepts and write thesis I’d have continued art school at the cost of losing myself and my head that by now I’ll be passionless, dead. 

perhaps when one loses the courage to be bold one finds the courage to be wise instead.odd to come upon a rather sudden realisation that school might just in fact be the thing that taught me how to be myself again.however loathsome a journey it was.all bad things must come to an end.astounding are some of the things I hear myself say to myself in my head.not’s calling.dresden frankfurt bremen especially.oh germany.these days it’s anywhere, anywhere but I wanted so much to ask someone, are you happy? the friends I love they’re so far away.I like distance keeps me whole.

out the window earlier today, I contemplated the evening skies clear rid of clouds a sullen blue acquainted by a lone star shining arduously bright waiting to be spotted by the brokenhearted. uncertain grief. guilt and sorrow entwined. such melancholy news of looming death does bring.