under my consciusness (1)
so i still have to write, shouldn't i? no one understands
me, but at least, i understand myself. i know what i am
doing. it's crazy, but i know that i have to.
i know i need to go to somewhere, to meet someone, who will
guide me, and lead me to somewhere i belong. i feel so
tired and bored waiting here. i need to go out. i have to
for me, i have always felt that there is always a world
that i don't understand and couldn't participate in. i am
in my own world, and other people have their own worlds
too. i can only know them from reading books and listening
so i am not expecting people come and understand me.
everyone has a story, that only can be know or maybe
understand, but not help.
life is horrible. i knew it not just now. actually i have
known it since i was a little unhappy girl. everyday is so
numb, and bored. i was sitting on the floor and playing
with my blocks, i always tired to make a castle, and the
blocks are always not enough. therefore i can only make a
wall, and i put my little king behind the wall, pretending
that he is sitting in the castle, he is reading neewspaper,
cigarattes, and a fried egg and ham.
(to be continued)