|||Figment of the imagination My mind is buried with a thousand thoughts. Each one keeps me up at night. Some are so bloodcurdling, that even at time I’m afraid to close my eyes. I have a childish fear of the dark. I can’t sleep in complete darkness. I see things that aren’t really there. My imagination manufactures the likes of boogy-monster and the grim riper. More often of a little unknown girl, who either is hack or strangle to death. (My great auntie believes that a little girl was brutally murdered in my bath tub some 20 years ago and continues to "haunt" my apt for her unsolve death) There even been period when I would hallucinate. I don’t recognize the voice, but each word verbalizes directly toward me. They’re abusive. But last night, it was so intense. I putted on my headphones and blasted the music on high, in hopes of annihilating the voice. But its vocal was too overpowering. I bang my head on the wall a few times. Shaking it so violently. Silent. There was silent. A second later, the voice drills itself back into my mentality. This time, it was....a cry for help. It was her. How can I forget? It was this time last year that the sicken "vision” came to me. Mother told me of her murder the following day, long before I could open my mouth I was never inform of the exact date of her death, nor any update on her children well being and the murder charges against their father....eventually my cries rocked me to sleep...I hope in her next life, that she will be united with happiness. For I know she longed for that in the previous ones...
I don't have the luxuary of calling up my pals just simply to chill. Even having dinner with them would mean a four hours drive or a run across the border. And if I want to see my girl, sammi I would have to hop on a plane and jet to the land of down unda. It suck when all my closest buddies doesn't even live in the same city as I do, let alone the same country. I would kiss the person who invented the i-net. It makes communicating with them
there's the tension between this lady and myself. (But I try to be nice to everyone. It’s just not in me to be rude and vexing like some folks) She been up on my ass ever since I spoke up in first semester regarding some matters. I was just stating my option and dayum lady got to go and flip it around. I was speaking for myself, not the whole class. She would always use the excuse of "ageism". That just *beepen* piss me off. That have nothing to do with how hard I study and the grades I'm making. It just goes to show I have better studying habits and some are just envy of it. If my personality was different, I think this lady and me would’ve gotten at it long ago. But just to see her skin crawl, I fire back with sarcasm. Just because you’re older, doesn’t give you the right to speak to me rudely. Respect needs to be earned.
iz like does this bottle of heineken owns my happiness?
Her beauty mesmerized me-it left me breathless… and when I felt her for the first time, she’s was graceful. And her smiles… her smiles it light up my entire world, I knew I was home. Her exterior was run down, but her soul didn’t present itself that way. She may have suffered in her glory, but will heal in time. Distance doesn’t matter, because she has a piece of my heart, even before time
Got my Sin SiSamouth’s cd in the mail yesterday. That man vocals is heavenly. It’s so soothing it rocked me to sleep. I image that it was my lover whom lay next to me (instead of an empty space on my queen size bed), as we cuddle together he would sing a melodious lullaby in my ears. How I yearn for the simplicity of having that kind of romance. Where is my prince charming? Uh-oh nostalgic kicking in.
All I want now-at this precise moment is to hear the sound of his voice. There’s just something magical in his vocal…his laughter…his smile, that transport my soul to tranquilly.
I always end up messing up a possbile happy future or something. It's like it's almost impossible for me to accept happiness. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I deserve to be happy. I just can't let go of my mistakes
There’s so many skeleton in my closet, that it’s become a cemetery.
Figment of the imagination My mind is buried with a thousand thoughts. Each one keeps me up at night. Some are so bloodcurdling, that even at time I’m afraid to close my eyes. I have a childish fear of the dark. I can’t sleep in complete darkness. I see things that aren’t really there. My imagination manufactures the likes of boogy-monster, but in human form. At time the dark figure represent the grim riper. More often of a little unknown girl, who either is hack or strangle to death. There even been period when I would hallucinate. I don’t recognize the voice, but each word verbalizes directly toward me. They’re abusive. But last night, it was so intense. I put on my headphones and blasted the music on high, in hopes of annihilating the voice. But its vocal was too overpowering. I bang my head on the wall a few times. Shaking it so violently. Silent. There was silent. A second later, the voice drills itself back into my mentality. This time, it was....a cry for help. It was her. How can I forget? It was this time last year that “the vision” came to me. I was never inform of the exact date of her death, nor any update on her children well being and the murder charges against their father...eventually my cries rocked me to sleep...I hope in her next life, that she will be united with happiness. For I know she longed for that in the previous ones...