shock, as in 9999 damage
Friday, June 29, 2007
It's been a dull day.
And from what I've read so far, it's a little bit too late, but I've clearly shifted from downright moronic to downright lame. So, I try again.
I'm stuck in this plastic chair, faced with a blinking screen of white and blue and everything else. The whole ambiance of the place was cool and, maybe, even dead, and it reminded me of the times I was stuck under the incessant rain. And, so to speak, it is right beside me, I can hear it perfectly, the rapping and tapping sounds of violent raindrops mercilessly scratching the glass windows. It's that day again, I guess.
My mind's been slowed down, probably from the cool air surrounding me, or probably from mashing the keyboard one too many times. But this is what I do best, not making sense of what I think and say, so I'd rather be here, than have my hair drip with acid rain and STILL be cold. It's ironic, how I could almost spend endless hours of this, almost doing nothing, and be bored, but still not notice how people come in and come out, and the tick-tock-ing of the clock never seemed to happen. My fingers betray my sedated mind, and starts to push softly, gently into the little black squares, and this happens. A little later on, I'm dead. And it's like I'm outside, drenching and soaking up in the lovely rain, and waiting. Waiting for the sun to come up again, and dry my clothes, my skin, everything.
And I didn't even notice the urgency of it all.
Sometimes, all you need is a little hate. Not love. Hate.
smiled at the sun again @ 8:56 AM,
