Sunburnt

I've a math test next Monday. Naturally it puts me on edge. I haven't started studying, YET. Not really anyway. I want to and I have, a little. Just that I can't seem to focus properly. Egh.

I'm all muddled up.

That aside, I'm still writing. I'm quite determined this time. I suppose when your future seems to always hang by a thread its easier to focus on abstract things. Keeps your mind off of things. I'm prone to be anxious, writing helps.

Oh, Adi went to the pool today. Hahaha...he was supposed to start swimming classes tomorrow or something. That is, before today when he went swimming (not a class just regular swimming) and discovered that he turned a shade darker and totally freaked out.

Adi: Adi hitam ke?! Mama, adi tak nak swimming dah la!

Total princess ain't he? haha. He got real mad when I made fun of him a little. I won't anymore though ehe =.=' it's not good for his confidence. I've realised that. I should stop my sadistic ways, he's growing up now.

okay, HAHA. This happended a few secs ago.

Me: Betul ke adi tak nak swimming? Kak yana rase adi dah jadik putih balik.

Adi: Ye la adi swimming balik. Bile nak pergi?

See? Told you I'd stop being sadistic. Though it's a total lie that he's back to his normal skin tone after a few hours. Pffftt.

Paris

Yet again, another addition to my vault of 'Novels to be'. I've lost count of the rubbish I intend to be my 'first' novel ever. All of them lasted only several chapters ranging from 2,000 to 10,000 words. They're all different, has nothing in common with each other since I write them all in various state of moods.

This particular latest addition is as titled in the previous post, a 9 part tragedy. Haha. And what do I know about tragedies? Absolutely nothing really besides the assumptions I've made of how they might be like, or how they're supposed to be like. Still, I insist that there be 9 parts to it. Reason's undisclosed aside, I stick to this piece (like them yellow sticky notes) with 'HOPE' that in a year or two it'll turn into something discernible as reading material.

When I write it's neat how my world in-folds into another's that is the main character's. His or her's concern being mine, his or her's view being mine, all him or her at the same time all me.

So I introduce to you, Paris. Not hilton mind you. Just, Paris and Paris's a dude.

Adieu for now.

P.S: He's not French btw.

A Tragedy In Nine Parts

Yours faithfully.

And the papers and words still beckons to me. We both go down together.

Words and letters in my veins

This dude here is READING.

Huh. Apparently I read too much. So what if I do? I know that I've many flaws and hang ups but I thought that my love of books is a good thing. But nooooooooo. It's a complete waste of time. Telling me I read too much is just another way of saying that I'm worthless trash...I should just rot alive and disappear. Not that I don't deserve such a fate since I'm, well, me. Well whatever. I'll read. I'll read if it kills me.

Anyway, tell me, how anybody could EVER read too much. Good thing books aren't a type of narcotics. I'd have aids and would probably be dead by the time I was 14. If I'm not allowed to read I might as well stop breathing. If you know me well enough this shouldn't be surprising at all. I, one of the millions that has aspirations to become an author, reads. A lot.

I can still remember the day I wasn't let to buy a novel because it was SPM. Well, SPM, HAH! to you. I'm done with you. And YOU will never chain me like that again, S.P.M.

I'll read whatever I want, whenever want.

*grabs a book and starts READING*