there's this lingering frustration in me of knowing where to go, but not knowing where to start. and because of that, everything ends without even starting. and when i do get a chance to find where to start, i'd always find myself somewhere i haven't been before. an entirely different place from what i had expected.

things just seem to stop midway, and leave me hanging clueless about what to do next. such as this. continuing is such a hard task that i have never managed to do perfectly.

i cannot fathom how my fingers could playfully dance across this dark piece of plastic filled with little symbols and letters, and just form words, eventually sentences and paragraphs at random. and then it would stop. not knowing what to write next; not knowing what else is swirling in my mind that could be typed down to pin my innermost thoughts with such accuracy and clarity; not knowing the right set of words to confine my ideas. it would just stop without even finishing.

"have you been somewhere you've never ever been before?"
realization knocked me hard on the head, bluntly and frankly screaming out my habit of being somewhere i have never been before... a cold, hard reality that i have been playfully hopping from one place to another. yes, because of that, i've been to many places, and seen a variety of things that some people could barely imagine. and yet, i never was really just... here.

i never kept still enough to notice the little things that define the world, and make it whole. and i never kept still enough to be capable of just moving on... it was never enough for me to get further.

maybe it wasn't really just hopping and playfully skipping through places. maybe it was a wasted effort of running away. but, i was never still enough to see a clearer picture of things. the answer to that, i haven't discovered yet.

sometimes i think that i think too much... or maybe too little. either way, it was never just right.

i knew where to start... and now i find myself, yet again, in a place i've never ever been before.

---
*sighs* frustration is slowly churning me, tugging me lower into the abyss. i lay helpless and confused as i try to comprehend thoughts that have been pooling in my head. a wasted effort. why can't i just be good enough to write things with such accuracy and detail? that such a word as 'thing' can ever be more specified and explained with vivid words and beautiful adjectives, without having the need to worry over creating lame-sounding descriptions such as 'beautiful adjectives'.

see the frustration painted all over my face?

There are no comments to this entry.