when did it all start
by The Dreamer
spiralling downhill, like watching my life being flushed down a toilet.
when did I start feeling that incessant craving to escape, when did that voice in my head that screamed GET OUT GRT OUT appear, when did my tear ducts get so overstimulated?
when did nostalgia become myopia?
the dissatisfaction with the present stems from my romanticisation of the past. i think of the tiny fingers that used to clutch onto my wrist, that tiny little boy voice that whispered “can you bathe me jiejie ” and then I zoom out and that tiny hand is now a bigger hand fitting nicely within the curve of my palm, speaking eloquently and boisterously with the boyish image shed like a cocoon skin, and I have this overwhelming urge to cry. i think of my fascination with light and shadows, how in the past the feeling of sunlight roasting my face made me tumble out of bed with excitement and zeal for the day versus me, years later, pulling my blankets over my head to soak myself in darkness.
when did it all start: my inability to end what I started, the unfinished drafts left to rot in my hard drive , neglected and forgotten until i chance upon them months later until to find out with dismay that while what I’ve written enchants me so, I’ve long forgotten the endings I had planned and the road it was supposed to form, so back to the dusty corner it goes.
when did i start – my hatred of structure and rules and perfection which leads me to throw away my knowledge of capital letters and full stops and grammar and
I lost my train of thought
Exhibit a, as shown above. Evidence of the inability to do shit like I used to.
Exhibit b, as shown above. Evidence of Jean’s tragic loss of her grasp on words, resulting in her use of curse words like “shit” as descriptions.
Exhibit c, as shown above. her incoherency. historians and Researchers alike are unable to figure out what these words mean, they are hieroglyphics that are not meant to be analysed, and days down the road, the author will also be unable to comprehend these sentiments. they will become artifacts labelled “purpose: Unknown”.