The entire morning has been fueled by Limp Bizkit, Damien Rice and more Damien Rice. I'm in one of those creative moods all of a sudden, when your eyes light up and you just feel like sketching a little something, writing a short story, writing a new song etc.
A lot has been on my mind recently. A new introduction, an old flame, a faraway love and the mother that I miss so dearly. When you get home and your secret hideaway is so cold and quiet, you can't help but just think to yourself that your life seriously sucks. What if there was hot, steaming dinners and bubbly chatter or even at the worst a little shouting. Just some noise in here would make me feel alive, more alive.
Are all women fated to be the same? Money grabbing, leg spreading after dinner and drinks and a drive home made up sluts? I can't help but recall the 'plastic-ness' of two chicks at the office and technically they are Uni students so.. I don't know. Can't people have deep, meaningful conversations and then a walk home anymore? Must there by financial favours, tongue and sex? Like I know Singaporeans are generally very rushed but can't we all take our lifestyle pace out of our personal lives? Like where are we even rushing to, I bet we don't know. Why do you want to head somewhere that you barely understand lest want to be at.
Murakami Salinger, hope your trip's good.
Raindrops, you make me want to pull on my hood.
Cutie Cab, you tore me into pieces and walked on.
Strangely familiar.
And the only one that's truly been constant are the bonds that are never broken and the one where days are lived forever. I miss you like hell, I would bring hell on earth just to take every one face to face just to know that you'll be home one day and I will lie in your arms and feel the solace I've been missing all this time.
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