Randomara

Headache. No, not really. Just very heavy.

I like to create story. And I like to tell it to other people. Since I was in first grade, my two best friends were loyal audiences. If I could not find my friends, my sister would be my audience. I used her dolls and my action figures to create a theater. There was a hero, who was awesome in martial arts and no one can beat him up. He had many friends, then one day, he fell in love with this woman. He married her. Or maybe I would tell a story, made up by me, about an old house near my home at Jing Hua street. This creepy house had an unfortunate owner, who passed away, but never really left this place. This ghost needed to walk the streets in certain orders. Ah, that is right! One of my friends' house was in the way! lol

Now, I don't have an audience. I am afraid that my imagination is no good. In fact, I know it is not good. So I tell no one about the story in my head. That's okay, I am my own audience. There is a hero, no matter how difficult the process, he will always have his beloved woman with him. Even though he could be in a delirious state before he die, and what his saw was an illusion. At least other people could not see what he saw. I could only talk to myself now. I felt confused about other people. And I feel confused about what I feel.


So many I's...

I want to die. I felt so apart from this whole thing. I am weary. So many I's. So many I's. Are these really I?

What is it that I withheld? Is it because I am waiting for a word to be uttered before I could talk regularly again? What is it? Felt like living in glass world.

What is it I want? What if something I want is impossible for me to control? Maybe I should exchange with something I... So many I's!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!