Sunday, September 03, 2006
one spends the first half of their life longing for wafts of inspiration, thin visions of escapisms. i used to write poems, in my old blog. Not that they were any good, but they were sincere hobbles through words and worlds i longed to touch. And i don't write them anymore. And i know why. One grows up, older, and starts thinking more cautiously. Why should i write when i'm not any good. Oh it just seems contrived, forced, awkward; like a lanky leggy girl in between periods of puberty and blossoming.
it's interesting sitting down here typing away thinking to yourself how twenty years of your life have gone by, have culminated in this very moment so you could sit here and type silently away in a self-reflexive manner.
Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:40 AM with 0 comments
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