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methrowrock我捕捉精采的畫面 可是一閉上眼顏色就褪掉了
我穿上最舒適的T-shirt 可是一脫下來身體都僵硬了
我選擇我最想要的 可是一個人呢 反而笑開了
我丟棄對我最好的 可是一關上燈 全部都回來了
直到有一天 我徹底昏睡了
我太累了 我放開了
直到有一天 我失去了
太矛盾了／太狼狽了
眼淚掉下來了
I know that wishing and wishing, hoping for things fervently, clasping the desire with feverish sweaty palms, would not make what I want to come true come true. That is just the way life works. It is never fair, it won't go the way you want it to be, it bites you right back in the ass, and this feeling sucks. The painful realisation that no matter how many thoughts or how much time you lavish into embellishing these showroom fantasies, nothing ever changes and in the end, you would just be looking at a glossy catalogue, pages and pages of plastic intent, places that you would never call home. The cherry on top? That you can't stop it anyway. The images are hypnoptising and tantalising- they suck you in and then, sucker punch you in the gut to make you crash down upon your knees, weak and powerless. But you buzz right near the illumination anyway, because of the sparkle, the glitter, the twinkle of the starry days a couple of lightyears away. There is the sliver of possibility beyond the arch and since humans are such inquisitive creatures, they stretch out for it, extending their torso, their hand, their fingers and lastly, tautening the tips, as if an extra 0.001 centimetre would bring them within distance to the elusive goal. In the end, some lose their balance, some lose interest and some lose their entire lives, spending their days with their eyes trained outside. A lucky few with gazelle-like limbs do get what they want of course, but pfft, what do I know about that? When will I ever know?
This is a wonderfully vague entry that addresses everything and nothing all at once. Angst schmangst, emo schmo, I dunno, typal diarrhoea maybe. It is annoying to see how much my writing had deproved though. And urgh, all the exaggeration and superlatives. It is frustrating to become mediocre at something that one used to be reasonably adept in. But I am getting accustomed to the feeling, so shake-up, make-up, break-up, dustofftheshoulder and it is time to run along with life.
我穿上最舒適的T-shirt 可是一脫下來身體都僵硬了
我選擇我最想要的 可是一個人呢 反而笑開了
我丟棄對我最好的 可是一關上燈 全部都回來了
直到有一天 我徹底昏睡了
我太累了 我放開了
直到有一天 我失去了
太矛盾了／太狼狽了
眼淚掉下來了
I know that wishing and wishing, hoping for things fervently, clasping the desire with feverish sweaty palms, would not make what I want to come true come true. That is just the way life works. It is never fair, it won't go the way you want it to be, it bites you right back in the ass, and this feeling sucks. The painful realisation that no matter how many thoughts or how much time you lavish into embellishing these showroom fantasies, nothing ever changes and in the end, you would just be looking at a glossy catalogue, pages and pages of plastic intent, places that you would never call home. The cherry on top? That you can't stop it anyway. The images are hypnoptising and tantalising- they suck you in and then, sucker punch you in the gut to make you crash down upon your knees, weak and powerless. But you buzz right near the illumination anyway, because of the sparkle, the glitter, the twinkle of the starry days a couple of lightyears away. There is the sliver of possibility beyond the arch and since humans are such inquisitive creatures, they stretch out for it, extending their torso, their hand, their fingers and lastly, tautening the tips, as if an extra 0.001 centimetre would bring them within distance to the elusive goal. In the end, some lose their balance, some lose interest and some lose their entire lives, spending their days with their eyes trained outside. A lucky few with gazelle-like limbs do get what they want of course, but pfft, what do I know about that? When will I ever know?
This is a wonderfully vague entry that addresses everything and nothing all at once. Angst schmangst, emo schmo, I dunno, typal diarrhoea maybe. It is annoying to see how much my writing had deproved though. And urgh, all the exaggeration and superlatives. It is frustrating to become mediocre at something that one used to be reasonably adept in. But I am getting accustomed to the feeling, so shake-up, make-up, break-up, dustofftheshoulder and it is time to run along with life.
