I would more readily believe reincarnation as well but, if ever I came to believe it... I would scare myself silly with thoughts of a wasted life; for instance, what if I am reborn a chicken? Factory farming. Chickens fattened up by the masses, cooped up in a pen throughout the day. My fate someone's dinnerplate. We would pay for our actions as humans, we would. So, on reincarnation... I would rather not think of it. Scary.
Jumpy I took a lengthy walk outside, listening to music. An effort to calm myself but by the end my stomach felt knotted, brushed past some teens my age and couldn't think, how to greet them what was appropriate; eyes darting to and fro. It is almost comical how flustered I became, people walk past me and thoughts turn sick-- a nervous wreck is me. Music progressively became louder, I may have picked a bad choice. I saw the kids twice on my walk around the cul-de-sac, I was doing fine and then they were there. Good grief, leave me be! They were not even so close, but close enough... In sight. Across the street from me. And all I could think of was how they must be staring at me, squeaky laughs, mocking me, the devils. A cul-de-sac, I mentioned. Surrounded my suburban houses, never before have I felt so terribly claustrophobic... Even when the kids were out of my line of vision, I couldn't stop thinking of the windows, people peering. God damn! NO PRIVACY. But I digress. Irrelevant, irrelevant all of this. I fear, I could have teared if I stayed outside for any longer. Not quite a panic attack, but definitely had the potential to quickly escalate into such. The only remaining trace of the episode is a slightly tense throat, tight... The walk was intensely tense, I sped through it, my pace quickened... The point, the point... How do you calm yourself? Techniques? Things you do, you know, that put you at ease. I might not be in need of it now, but who knows, this information might be to my advantage if ever this episode repeats itself. For me, I cannot think of anything but... Barrowing into warm sheets, covers. Hiding underneath. Small, warm places, crevices; remarkably different from my night's walk, in which claustrophobia overwhelmed... That is different, I was constrained by not my surroundings but by people's gaze. Different, different. And sweet sweets, eating sweets unhealthy as that is. Really I do not like my writing style. Off-topic...
Said I would edit but, a new post. Sign me up with the nameless folk, a single. Staff cannot participate it seems, sad...
I am sad, but it is fine you cannot help it. Thank you.
X-Men First Class is the only movie I have seen from this year this year, I think. And it was good. I liked it, and I am not even familiar with the X-Men universe. I do not go out to the theatres much, so... At least, not to see newer films. Oh! Scratch that, there was another film I saw, The King's Speech. 'twas surprisingly very good, compelled me to purchase the novel albeit I haven't yet read it... should get to that soon, I should.
I do not really collect a thing, instead I will post favorite belongings. I've a Matryoshka doll set, an utter coincidence given my current theme. Plushies abundant. Legos. Books I've many of, cluttering my room. I once had a pair of Опинок shoes that I was quite fond of, pronounced Opanak in English for the non-Slavic speakers. A gift from grandmother to grandchild, and I vaguely remember slipping around on those, on smooth carpet-- much fun, though I hadn't any idea what else to use them for sans sliding. Turns out, they are for dancing. Folk dancing; traditional Macedonian dancing shoes. That I never knew... unfortunately, I lost the shoes. I cannot recall my losing them, one day I had them and the next I did not; they lay forgotten, which is sad. Perhaps they are somewhere in the house still, and perhaps one day I will go and look for them. Would call for some extensive searching, I think. It has been many years. My Matryoshka set is not unlike this one.
You people haven't any tactic. Let's reach 20 pages quickly, da~? Mother Russia knows what to do, always! Tis a good thing there is no limit on how many pictures you can attach a single post.
I've asked a person to be my partner, will return with edits. If he accepts, will post name. If he rejects god forbid, I will join the partnerless folks. A nameless group of nobodies. Eh, I hope not...!
A-Ashwin... I pray you haven't yet a partner. W...will you attend with me the Queen's Tea Party?! And her face never burned brighter.
Your poetry is refreshingly youthful. And I realise, you might scoff at that, maybe youthful is not the word I mean for? It is... it is honest, genuine, and you can ask of no more from a poet. Yes, you've still readers left. I like X Days Left. Unintentional rhymes. You don't try to be pretentious, I think. And so many try to. It is refreshing, yes.
It's nice. But the diction is perhaps outdated, and perhaps generic. Could just be me, though, for I find it so difficult to 'get into' poetry of any sort, as my eyes scan critically for the writing quirks, the immediate flaws, the poet's patterns of speech; I fail to see its depth emotionally and consequently see only what is present at surface. Same, same, same. All rather boring. This, consequently, is why I scarcely ever write, poetry included. But it's nice. I suppose. I wish I could better form an opinion of poetry. BTW, nice Ennis icon. I'm a sucker for suited women.
You are a nice person.
Gonna be a laughingstock for taking it dead seriously then, by deuce damn my naivety to hell.
...Mere fun? Did she put on the show for jest? I missed it then, it was taken seriously on my end. Glad to hear you are not offended, as I didn't...
...It was not directed toward you. I hold no ill feelings toward you. The majority of these anonymous post-its have been, as far as I know, quite cheery. It is when such personal things, as seen here, are brought up that I spark. It makes me think, can they not mind themselves; where are their sense of boundaries? A spectacle, shouting obscenities and making a scene in where anyone can see, and for what. Why do they. Attention? They could so easily contact the object, or person rather, of their loathings and save everyone the inconvenience. I suppose I just simply cannot begin to understand it. I am, I suppose, a... relatively, relatively private person. But forget it. I do not wish to be a hassle. I apologise if you were offended, thought I was targeting you specifically. I was not, not at all.
I do not like how people can be so shamelessly open about it (or better yet, shamelessly secretive!), call me naive but I thoroughly believe that anything you've to say to another should be said upfront, personally. Face-to-face with the menace. Speaking behind a person's back, or resorting to anonymity is very weak. See how they shamelessly make a spectacle of themselves. Will they later regret it, their actions? Impulsive, impulsive. I would think so. Nothing angers me more than these weaknesses, which they shamelessly flaunt. It is angering, it is bothering! I am too easily affected, and with that too judgmental. Let fools be fools. No. I will not pretend to be unaffected. It is angering, these behaviors. I am not speaking of only this event, this event here was merely the impetus. Impeding me to a rant. Isn't it strange? An impetus moves me forward and yet to impede is to hinder. The English language is certainly strange.
I reeled back upon reading this, thinking what... w... what! I misconstrued your meaning horribly, dirty thoughts, dirty thoughts... ack.
I imagine my cheeks being pinched... embarrassing.
I edited it, ehm... how did I get from something as meager as reading a novel, to kidnapped?
How do they treat the kidnapee? And how did I get from something as meager as reading an innocent novel to captured a kidnapee?
