10th December 2001.
I’ve
managed to clean every nook and cranny in my room
and now I’m sat at a corner where dust bunnies and mites once roamed free. Not
anymore suckers! *hoover in hand*
The whirring sound of the Hoover is making me drowsy.
Dug out a pile of yester year treasures. In my hands laid open is an old ‘autograph’ book. The sort you cart around before you turned 15 and during last days of school. Running around shoving it into people’s faces whilst chirping, “Autograph please!”. I guess we weren’t exactly too familiar with the word autograph then. Just like how 12 year olds (they get younger each year) learn the word FUCK for the first time and decide to adopt the word into every detail of their speech. Heck! Some of these effing kids prolly made it their middle name.
Anyhow, back to the main board here. Read through it and realised how much has changed over the years. It all seems ….. childish now. Though it seemed anything but that during the time.
In one of the pages:-
To (a string of nicknames I’d rather live without)!
Thanks for a zillion for farting at your auto. Hope you like the smell. Anyway thanks for being a friend. Sorry for doing it so so beautiful. I know you like my mean attitude. Bye!
***** ** Great.
The farting was referring to a picture of a cat taking a poop. Which makes me wonder.
No there was no smell because it was a picture drawn on paper, and I was a friend.
And no I didn’t like the I’m-so-mean-I-must’ve-been-dead-ass-cool attitude. And no she wasn’t great.
And yet I have with me now an archaic possession with these irritating words etched into it.
Well…. Nothing a little BON FIRE can’t help.
I just hope that from here on I won’t be doing things that will look dopey in 5 years time. *Takes a doubtful glance at my baggies*
My train of nostalgic thoughts are suddenly disturbed by the double beeps of my trusty Nokia 6210.
It’s Dr. D (wonder if he minds me calling him Dr. D). He wants my email addy so he can forward me the work I need to proofread.
Café Del Mar plays in the background. All I need is a beach to complete the set.
To be entirely honest (as if there isn’t stomach curdling honesty here already), I’m feeling the drain and icky feeling from a lack of sleep. The obvious fault of that would be me staying online the blabbing away till 6am. I really should stop doing that *checks mirror for fine line and wrinkles*
Saw him online yesterday, No messages went through. But seeing the name in blue just made me feel sick.
This whole week I’ve been hearing or meeting someone that has something to do with him. From the night at Movement right down to when my dad texted at the PC Fair. I think if I were stuck in a lift with him I’d pass out or go insane from claustrophobia. Though I think if I knew the reason then I might just be able to stop this. It wasn’t like this before the issue was blown out of proportions.
Why does it seem like KL has grown so incredibly small these days? Everywhere I go I see things I don’t want to.
I need to escape from this place.
They say running away from your fear won’t help. If I knew what it was I wouldn’t be running. How do you recognise fear when you’ve not seen it?
Thinking far too much and my head’s starting to spin.
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