Stalker Diaries

YESH I HAS COMPLETED IT.
Okay, so I realised that I haven't been doing any writing (writer's block is attacking, stronger than ever).
So I'm just trying. :D yayyayyayyay
Gosh, I hate writer's block. It just seeps into your brain. It's made me fear my fanfiction now. T.T

Light disclaimer:
I no stalk anyone. It just seemed... interesting to try and write from a stalker's point of view (no offence to stalkers out there! :D)
because I don't have the time and I get tired of things really easily. :D
Ellie, I has completed mai 'stalker story', you?

Now, if you dislike very crazily obsessive people ranting about how they stalk people, then do not click for more pencil shavings. :D

Musings-- I is a carrot.

Mistaken identity.

I wonder if the fox will change its fur colours in summer, autumn or winter.

Indeed, indeed.

Now that I have submitted for Montage...
Y U GIVE ME SO MUCH INSPIRATION?
*to Ellie and Jerry :D jiayou for Montage anyways.

But that's out of the point anyway.

I have a fear of someone.
So now, I'm going to try to be brave.

I'm not going to give anyone anything, not even my fear.
*puts on failed pokerface*

Because it seems so idiotic to be afraid of someone who's not supposed to be intimidating at all...
but I still fall prey T3T
How do you overcome fear?
I have a fear of mirrors as well, another fear called Athazagoraphobia. 
Sighs. I'm trying not to fear fear itself, but it's getting too difficult.


On the other hand... no more CST :)


I wonder what we'll be doing instead of tha-- ... not extra Chinese lessons, right?


And I wrote a letter to the Sec 4 me :D I wonder if I'll even remember to read the letter. It's really short and filled with Tuannism. :D


~O~ 

Post-It ノート: oh why

That was so embarrassing.

And idiotic.

That I tried to commit suicide in that little emo corner.

TAT

Why do I squeak at inappropriate times. 

Argh.

I'm going to try to wash this off my head for now and keep my head up high.

Or at least try to.

Maintains view: scary people are scary.

...

Baka, baka, baka.

Oh bananas.

The Devil's poem

There is no hope in faith
nor a sparkling light within me.
I wait to seek not seven but eight
deadly sins that won't let us be.

Hope splayed out abstractly
like a splatter of blood--
thick, scarlet and oozing gladly,
the devil's touch within me flood.

Still awaiting the last man's grave
to heaven he flies
or hell, I crave.
Wither and flop, but leave no fear, no anguished cries.

But within darkness we seek--
far beyond the tender light
amongst the creatures so meek,
we turn upon a shamed flight.

Still there is no far worse sin,
of secret whispers and aching breaths.
My weathered, tattered skin--
take it, for it lives on, take it before he seeks you, Death.

"You do know the last sin, don't you?"
No.
"Oh, but it is so obvious."
To you, not me.
"Then let it be hope."
Hope?
"Hope."


_______________________________________________________________________________

I tried to make it rhyme :D
My leg hurts. TAT
I bet no one understands the poem! Do you? *adds pedo voice*
Try figuring it out, poor bananas :D
Especially you, Ellie :D
Because it was written with inspiration from Harry Potter~
Oh, shit. I still need to complete my monthly-challenge...

XD XD XD
Ollie

Musings-- WAFFLE THE WAY ALONG

Just read Tuesdays with Morrie.
Nice book, maybe.
Waffle, waffle, waffle.
Oh right, I have a bandage on my knee.
A white, evil bandage.
Ouch, it hurts.
Nao I can't lie on my stomach or it'll burn.
But on the other hand, my sis says it looks cool and hardcore and she feels like getting one too. That's how amazing I am~

Stupid bike, I should have never rode you. You of a sickening orange (and you just had to be my favourite colour!). Ouch, ouch, ouch.

And Tuesdays With Morrie says :

"The feel of those emotions, their texture, their moisture, the shiver down the back, the quick flash of heat that crosses your brain--then he was able to say, 'okay. This is fear. Step away from it. Step away.' "--Quoted, page 104-105

Oh, but seriously, when the pain comes on, it's too fast for you to be able to identify anything. The speed itself. *shudder* Ugh, my knee hurts, but I know it's just mentally. I'll still be able to jump, but it hurts. Sigh. painpainpain~ *whines on incessantly*
I mean, how can you accept Death so easily? It seems too much for me. To be able to think about it so clearly, vividly, that you feel at peace with Death?
Then again, I'm just like an empty container, not yet filled with experience.
I love the book.

The first page drew me in:

A lesson without grades, without books, taught from experience and not theory.
We're Tuesday people.

And they talk about more of life's lessons, how the rushing pace of people affects us and sub-cultures. How you shouldn't be pressured to conform because that's what the society wants you to believe: Women not skinny enough, men no rich enough, students with marks too low.
I wish I could believe and make my own sub-culture, but I'm stuck within the paradox of freewill and prejudice. The veil blinds me with letters, A, B, C, F. Different letters hold a certain impact, a shadow covering your character and personality, a cloak hiding your values.
Branded with the letters, some cower behind it, hoping not to meet discriminating stares while others hold theirs high enough, blocking what offensive remarks that may be made.
Every time I get an A, I don't feel happy. I feel relieved.

waffle waffle waffle.
the banana culture! :D

I read small bits of it along the way since primary school.
The first time, we did a comprehension on it, just a small extract. I read on and found it interesting, I thought it was a case study, a scientific study on illnesses.
I wanted to read more. But I didn't, because it became a dimmed light in my mind, faded to a cracking whisper.

The second time, I saw this quote "Don't let go too soon. But don't hang on too long" from Tuesdays with Morrie and I was enchanted. The book didn't seem like a scientific case study anymore. Perhaps a philosophical case study? But I didn't read it.

The third time, I was wandering about in a bookstore. My sister had vouchers :D so we were just looking around. We were deliberating over whether to buy The Hunger Games--trilogy but I spotted this small pocket book-- Tuesdays with Morrie. And I picked it up. I was going to read it, I was going to buy this intriguing little book. So we left the bookstore happily.

And you can tell what happened after this. I read it, and was surprised to find out that I liked it, although my dad found it too deep for people of my age. He expected me to buy something like The Hunger Games. And you know what? I'm glad I got this book, instead of missing out on it.

Not to say that it's necessarily better than The Hunger Games, but I like it. It's based on personal opinion, I suppose. I mean, the idea from the trilogy looks refreshing and interesting-- it somewhat attracted me. Ah :D

Don't miss it, peeps. It's really interesting :D And you'll never get sick of it :D

Acrophobia--Fear of Heights and a little waffle

An unbidden image arose in her mind.

A monochromatic world, the tiny dots that stained the canvas of her thoughts. They were so miniature, so small. She felt too big, looking down upon all of them. The ledge was reshaping, closing in into a compact area. So painfully tight, so painfully worrying. There was just a fleck of dust to stand on, but her weight was going to make it crack. She was going to fall. The mist clouded over her mind, tracing and retracing a single word that haunted her peace.

She felt her finger slide desperately, gliding across the air, cutting into the breeze swirling around her. Her fingers fumbled over the specks of dust that lolled around, drifting gleefully around the air, thick and lazy. Slender and pale, they opened and closed, as though trying to catch what little ray of glittering sunlight there was in her hands.There was nothing to hold on to, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.


She gasped, the contraction of her lungs, as though a hand had cupped over her throat and wrung the life out of her. It was hard to breathe, so hurtfully hard to breathe. It was impossible to suck in just one small gulp of air-- her muscles were losing control. Paralysed, in mid-air. Her heart thumped, palpitated, and threw itself countless times over the thick walls that was keeping it from escape.

escape-- what a sweet word.


Just one step back, back onto solid, firm ground. If only she could lift up the stumps of her legs, if only she could leap... The muscles in her fingers flexed. As she squinted over her shoulder, it was to her horror and its cheer that the ground was so far away. The gravel was inching away, increasing the distance between them.

There was an invisible feather upon her legs-- tickling them mercilessly with a mocking laugh. She was floating, held up by stronger forces, the wind whipping against her face. Their hands brushed past her bangs, pulling them back gently but firmly. They slid their cool fingers up and down her arms, gleefully asking,

"Can you see now? Can you?"

She shook her head, but all she could manage was a tilting of her head to the left, then right. There was nothing to see, even as her fear's hands peeled her eyes open and purred for her to see the world laid out beneath her. Her shoes, red and pointed, were huge. And she felt as though she was stomping on all those little atoms, splintered into single blocks of life, exploding and then reforming, the cycle of life repeating. She shifted her weight to the other foot, but then paused. What if she were to roll off and fall?

"I don't want to fall," she whispered in a muted prayer. "Don't, don't, don't let me fall. Someone. Someone."

Musing-- God of Death

Have you ever thought so much about Death that you got addicted to it?

I have--I am.

It just seems so peculiar as to where we're going after Death, and I can only picture black, darkness and numbness. If Death is such a place, perhaps I want to go there. Still, it's only what we can imagine. But the thought of a place simply being an absence of everything is rather scary.

And it sounds rather tempting. Rather simple, as compared to the restless clockwork of life.

... And it's so simple that it terrifies me. How can one thing be so simple,so straightforward? I don't dare to open my arms and fling myself towards it. It is a lack of faith. An overdose of suspicion, cautiousness.

... Oh bananas. I sound so suicidal and creepy. Let's talk about fluffy ponies and nyan-cats that poop rainbows.

...
oh, bananas. =3=

Montage is due, due, due.
... I forgot what date it was.
Let's write a poem for Meggi :D

Fear of the month (April)

A

Acrophobia--fear of heights

Ablutophobia-- fear of bathing, washing or cleaning

Anthropophobia --type of social fear (fear of people)

All these were chosen through a fruit machine :D

Let's start writing~ :D

Even tho I say it's "Of the Month", it may be irregular :D

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