Blues
You dream to be here, and yet when your dreams come true, you don't know how to pull it through. It sometimes feels like a slow dragging horror movie, I just wanna close my eyes and never get out of my bed.
Piles and piles of notes, books upon books towering over you, and it isn't even half of what you're supposed to know. So many new synapses to create, and in the last moment, so many bad habits to break. The only thing thats at breaking point is you. And when you are right at the edge, you put-on some make-up and go out with the gals, having fun, often wishing for your beau-- aa...may be not, been alone far too long, I would rather have food, but then you are putting on pounds and pounds, and you think "Come on! A decade of struggle and all you got is another flat tyre going right around your abdomen. God! I feel like a fool."
And then I am wondering where are the tears that helped you so much as a teenager, to build up your courage and tackle the fear, to give you motivation and put your life into gear.
22...no am not feeling 22, I feel older, it's not just the books. Oh! You have been through so much, been under those scrutinising eyes, been judged; you have been called names, insults that sometimes you couldn't take...ran home (alias boarding place) and cried your eyeballs out, got up the next day and smiled at those same faces again. And some days, I am just too tired, all I wanna do is take up good book and curl into my bed, not worried about all the reality around me or the future ahead.
I am sure it's not just me, it might be everybody, so thats why I just purse my lips when I have the most to say.
I have been called strong, I have been called weak, I have felt like both, sometimes even simultaneously, in the end I don't think it really matters. Success, failure... Everything feels arbitrary. It's often about... to keep moving, make sure you are taking yourself somewhere, and that somewhere is somewhere where you are happy. ( and again happiness is a whole new thought on its own. Haha.)
Piles and piles of notes, books upon books towering over you, and it isn't even half of what you're supposed to know. So many new synapses to create, and in the last moment, so many bad habits to break. The only thing thats at breaking point is you. And when you are right at the edge, you put-on some make-up and go out with the gals, having fun, often wishing for your beau-- aa...may be not, been alone far too long, I would rather have food, but then you are putting on pounds and pounds, and you think "Come on! A decade of struggle and all you got is another flat tyre going right around your abdomen. God! I feel like a fool."
And then I am wondering where are the tears that helped you so much as a teenager, to build up your courage and tackle the fear, to give you motivation and put your life into gear.
22...no am not feeling 22, I feel older, it's not just the books. Oh! You have been through so much, been under those scrutinising eyes, been judged; you have been called names, insults that sometimes you couldn't take...ran home (alias boarding place) and cried your eyeballs out, got up the next day and smiled at those same faces again. And some days, I am just too tired, all I wanna do is take up good book and curl into my bed, not worried about all the reality around me or the future ahead.
I am sure it's not just me, it might be everybody, so thats why I just purse my lips when I have the most to say.
I have been called strong, I have been called weak, I have felt like both, sometimes even simultaneously, in the end I don't think it really matters. Success, failure... Everything feels arbitrary. It's often about... to keep moving, make sure you are taking yourself somewhere, and that somewhere is somewhere where you are happy. ( and again happiness is a whole new thought on its own. Haha.)
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