And I have to move on. In more ways than one.

So I am.

Here.

A new trimester.
A new room.

So why do I still feel like everything’s still the same? Maybe it’s the room itself. It feels incomplete, bare. There are so many things that still need to be done here. The room is naturally dark, because of the position of the room itself: on the shaded part of the condominium block that I’m staying in. No matter how bright it is outside, the room still feels gloomy. But it’s something else as well. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Maybe it’s the way I arrange my things. Too normal, too mundane. Clothes strewn everywhere, both clean and dirty ones. An unkempt bed. Messy wiring for my PC that I feebly try to hide with careful positioning of the computer table. The move to the new room is very much incomplete, in more ways than one. Try as I might, it seems that I have a natural inability to make my room a cozy place to be. Maybe a carpet would work. Or maybe one of those lamps that cast a soft, sensual orange glow to the room at night.

But I still feel like I’m nowhere near the crux of the matter. I wonder why. Of course, when the place is finally done, you will be among the first ones to know by the pictures I’ll be putting up. Maybe it’ll take a month or two. It takes a while for me to do these kinds of things, so bear with me.

Stay tuned. 

Well, this is an awkward position I’m in. Staring clueless at the monitor, then the keyboard, then the monitor again, wondering how to start putting together the words that will become the catalyst to the torrent of ideas that’s been buzzing in my head for the past few days. Now that I’ve dug out the old laptop (actually I took it out of my father’s car), and have a room to myself, these ideas will bloom into sentences that will miraculously move my fingers to type those keys that will transfer said sentences to the computer. Now, if only real life was as predictable as fiction.

Continued here.

Shit. I think I’m getting that feeling again. That sick feeling at the bottom of the stomach, that strange sensation you feel, as if you’re going to throw up, but can’t. You just want to somehow, because it’ll make you feel relieved, but it just would not happen, short of sticking your fingers into your mouth. and forcing yourself to throw up. It seems I have a strange fixation with throwing up, but that is what comes to mind when this sick feeling comes.

That’s funny. I haven’t felt like this in a while.

***

I seem to be going through life half-awake these past few days. The basic action of going to classes is something that I’m glad to say has become a habit, but it feels so hollow sometimes. Sitting at the back of the class, alternating between listening to the lecture and doodling. It’s not fulfilling at all. I look at the others. Some of them are so attentive that I sometimes envy them. To devote such an amount of focused, undivided attention at will is something that is just beyond me.

I can’t go on living like this.

***

Don’t mind me. It’s just a phase.
I hope.

I am a lazy fuck. Yes, I am. My legs hurt, and I can’t seem to lift my arms up. I’m moving around the house by holding on to the walls, tables, chairs, my mum. I just came back from Fraser’s Hill, and I’m busy editing photos, writing up blog posts, and just plain recuperating.

So, I’ll be back soon. :D