I'm sounding mental, I know. But it's raining here (Again. It rains everyday of the year) and despite the fact I picked up two good manga (Saiyuki Reload #1 and #4) yesterday (and a chibi Goku postcard).
Then my parents start talking about my career.
And I was...I felt lost. Like someone hollowed me out with a spoon. I don't write for the reviewers or anyone else. I write because...that's the the only way I know how to live. I live to write, so to speak.
And when I don't write, it's like I'm dying a slow and painful death and I lie there...
Not knowing what to do anymore.
I love the rain (despite the fact I am more of a Genjo Sanzo than anything else). They look like needles falling from the sky, a deep grey that engulfs my world so easily.
Once upon a time, I was like Son Goku. I loved everything and I was alive. But in my sixth grade, I was abandoned.
Thus, my love of life faded away and I began living alone. I have forgotten what it's like to have friends sometimes. I don't even believe in friendship, which is rather sad. But I try to believe in one person; myself. That way, I'm safer on my own.
But it's so hard, y'know? To be lonely.
I love the rain, I really do. Maybe I can drown, somehow.
They still look like needles.
God, I'm so forsaken here...nothing, no one but my books, comp and anime and I feel that I am suffocating in this perfect world that Singapore is.
Like a slow death.