When you’re left alone, you tend to daydream of all the delightful things that you could do in life. Yes, a product of me convincing myself that work can wait and wrapping myself using my blanket and pretending I live in an igloo.
Then, its only a matter of moments before brilliance start flooding your head like on a whim and you temporarily forget of the history ia/tok essay/english iop/stupid rubbish stuff that has causesd you to lose another year or two you might have spent backpacking to your way to freedom. Freedom, of course, in the form of many balloons. Both big and small. You don’t really care for the sizes or the colours that much, every balloon is the same just as every other face you know.
For that few precious minutes you have outside of this world, you still hear the sound of the cars nearby. It doesn’t disturb you, in fact, it brings a sense of calmness. You wish one day you might have the opportunity just to sit down along the roadside with an ice cream cone in your hand and count them, subconsciously omitting the black ones in your count, simply because you never really liked black in the first place.
Following that, it will rain. You embrace it, because you have always loved the rain. But before that, you remembered to finish your ice cream, for you know ice cream does not taste as good mixed with raindrops.
Have I mentioned that your ice cream is black sesame? For it is, it is! Such is the wonders of the mind. If you could, you would have even cycled your way to the moon and back, like E.T. For some reason or another, you always loved autumn even though you never really had autumn around here. You could have imagined it, but you chose not to. Just in case it doesn’t make you feel better. No, you would rather cling onto whatever little that you have and hope that someday you could invent something that could make you fly. Fly, to anywhere. The place does not really matter, just as long as you’re not here. Chances are, that wouldn’t happen so you just have to settle for imagination. The rain still goes on.
But just like everything else, your little trip has to end. Why? Because it has to, and you need to do your iop, and you’re starting to feel leg cramps sitting in that position under your blanket for so long. Hahaha
pheephiphophum, my flu’s coming back i wish bacteria will go eat a plum.
like the rain that You send, and every breath that I breathe, You are so faithful, Lord.
(edit)
I guess there would always be this side of me that just cannot say what I really want to say. The igloo was never as nice as one could pretend it to be, but in the end it perhaps is just pretending after all. !oh, can you feel gravity falling, calling us home?
