Note To Self.

You are depressing. LMAO.

The Absence of Words.

I envy those who could write every single thing in their life, especially their lowest, darkest and saddest moments, so freely and openly for everyone to read. I sallute them.
I can never do the same.

I've started writing in my journal again.
My physical journal.
With an actual pen.

My pen write words I simply can never share through the soft clicks of a keyboard, publicly.
My journal keeps my soul, sane.

FootNote: And one of the things I despise the most, is when the uninvited invades a journal. 9Gag Bitch Please face.

Footnote.

If I was a color, I'd be black.

The Between

My best friend told me something rather fascinating today.

She said few years ago, reading my writings, she realized there was a bundle of happiness in between the lines.

And somehow, someway, nowadays, all she can read in between my words are the unwritten explanation of things sometimes needs more than an educated guess to figure.

Those are my words, really.

All she said was "Eh Apsal sekarang you punya blog dah tak happy macam dulu?"
I have a way of making simple things, complicated.

LOL.

The Nothingness of Nothing.

If I could tell you every thing that needs to be told,
Sing you every song that needs to be sang,
Write you every story that needs to be written,
Drink, dance, eat, sleep, play and touch,
I would.

One day,
I will.