"You know how there are some classics which people enjoy and at the same time lots of people didn't? How these people didn't understand these novels, so they declared their not liking it--I feel that way with my diaries. My nonsensical thoughts that possibly just maybe 5% of the world's population would understand. People who are as crazy as I am; not so easy to find.
My pages made me love myself. It's so easy to drown myself in all this ink--I discovered this in 2012, the first time in my life I'd felt completely alone. Before that I wrote, of course, but nothing more than just shallow pieces, gushing about a boy I wouldn't even look at twice now, laughing about my then best friends' shenanigans. Nothing deeper than the thoughts of an average fourteen-year-old. A normal person, something I've lost touch with over the years. Sometimes I hate it, but now I'm glad for this; the way I settle in like a very sore thumb among the long, slender, manicured fingers. I don't quite belong, but I'm in my place.
Back a few weeks ago, I remember it being the flower's POP, I couldn't stop talking to the wind because I just had so much to say. It's not so easy to run out of things to say when your mind is swirling with all kinds of things--be it jellyfish, whales, and most especially rubbish. My mind is like the sea, contaminated by more trash the more people that pass.
I've completely no idea how big the capacity of my brain is.
My initial plan in coming here was to read this random book I'd picked up from Pasir Ris library a few days ago called The Girl In The Road and you can already tell by the title that I'd taken it just for that. I'm not sure if this would make sense, but sometimes, I feel I've fallen out of my love for books. I'm still very much into reading, but only if I've already gotten hold of a book that's completely worth it; most of the time chosen by luck.
A long time ago (okay, maybe just last year) I thought of this: when you're standing in a crowded bus, look at the person next to you. Look at his face, and take note of how unattractive he is, or at least, how unattracted you are to him.
And then imagine: while to you he's ugly as shit, there's one other girl in this country that thinks he is the most good-looking in the world--she's in love with him. And then think about this: on the other side of Singapore, there is your own boyfriend, the only guy you think is even remotely good-looking. And next to him is a girl that takes a glance at him and thinks he is ugly as shit. She doesn't know that you exist, a girl who thinks he is the world.
Isn't that weird to think of? Maybe that should help in reminding me that it doesn't matter what other people think. There would be someone else across the country who can't imagine a life without you, even if there's a bitch you just knocked into without saying sorry who wishes you would die today for that."
-10/02/17, 2:33PM
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