it is of utmost importance that you rest as much as you work, drones the official clad in grey as she talks about how all work and no play makes jack a dull boy and jill a dull girl.
there are muted snores puffing from the hall of students, bags clutched tightly against chests. beside me, the top class drag their pens across chemistry practicals like weary oxes ploughing up and down the fields. my eye twitches as i remember how i haven’t opened my writing blog since forever (at least a monday has passed and the law of mondays still apply). there are so many instances when the depression spills up above my throat into my mouth spilling onto worktables like wave breaking on the seabed, but i have no time to spare when i am juggling a proposal, three
individual group projects, three tutorials and two lectures reading, all due yesterday. the number beside Write grows larger everyday, stuffed full with empty words (writing reflects your soul, and that’s true because i am just a hollow shell full of Pretentious Poetry that means absolutely nothing to my future in the tiny red dot of Science Field Careers. )
these days i feel like my skin is stretching across my flesh like a snake bursting out of its skin. every morsel of food tastes a little more bitter than the last and the calculator in my head is a lottery machine from how fast the numbers whizz. the irony weighs heavy on my tongue when i remember that i am time starved and running round the clock, one lap two laps three laps GO FASTER GO FASTER here in singapore we do 30 hours of work in 24.
i don’t recognize the man in the mirror. no amount of asking will change her ways my ways our ways. if you wanna make the world a Better Place, then look at yourself, and crawl to bed.
to wake up at 3am later to finish math.
drink and drown the pain away: slip your tongue in my mouth and lick away all my worries
house so empty, need a centrepiece, so i shove a whole goddamn furniture store down my throat.
- mondays are never really over until you’ve hit your daily quota of two anxiety attacks, one in the morning when the bile threatens to burn a hole up your throat, or somewhere at 1922 when one text is all it takes to release the floodgates that have been pounding against your eyes all day.
- mondays are never really over until the one minute between 2359 and 0000 steals away in silence.
- mondays are the antithesis of the paradise god placed on earth. on the contrary, mondays are wormholes to hell. move aside, teleporters, mondays exist.
- mondays are 48 hours long.
- mondays are designed to make me feel like the weight of the world lies on my shoulders. there is a gnawing emptiness in my heart, and no amount of whispered encouragement motivational quotes and black coffee can fill it up. who knew that the lack of existence would make me hypersensitive to the presence of unfair teachers unkind countrymen insensitive classmates?
who decided that the duality of my tongue made me a hypocrisy of my identity?
tonight’s frost tipped fingers wrap around me Continue reading “HOMEBOUND”
I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF ME OR HOW I SHOULD FEEL ABOUT YOU.
you’d slip your arms round my shoulder and i never noticed. we hit off like a house on fire,
Continue reading “IN LIMBO”