in pain we find joy
haha, yes, i am going to make it tradition to start off with a photo & a line below it!
i think it's cool.
ooh, prom was yesterday night.
rather surreal; it felt like i was going through the motions, being swayed like a sailboat without a sail by circumstances, reacting instead of making conscious decisions..etc.
i really loved the food.
i had fruits, desserts first - the chocolate cakes were alright, i prefer the walnut one to the creamy one. the custard was great too!
it was such a fantastic surprise to see so many varieties of dessert on display. everybody grunt after me : FOOOD PORRRRRRRRN.
anyway, continuning my gush about the food :
the salmon was yummy, the mushrooms-pasta-oysters? were delectable, & the salads were great!!
i whacked the tuna, the greens, the tomatoes, and lots of sauce.
too bad the buffet had an expiry date.
besides the food, another thing that was great was the....
ummmm.
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(I AM NOT SUFFERING FROM BIPOLAR; MY THOUGHT CHANGE TRACKS QUICKLY (like some others i know) AND MY MOODS SEEM EXTREME AT TIMES BECAUSE I FEEL THINGS VERY ACUTELY.)
living dangerously, fighting dangerously, hurting non-painfully.
the slim edge was lighter than a feather and brushed against skin like it loved to /
as if hiding its intentions, it didn't slice and dice when it could obviously had, but only drawing blood when it wasn't expected to /
but it was swift, and didn't even disturb the heart's beating rhythm /
it continued like nothing happened, and perhaps nothing did /
it wasn't soon before long that blood washed down its source /
red is my favourite colour, and nothing was as alluring and fascinating as that desperately alive but dead colour on my finger /
against the bright blue of the nails, the hot pink of the dress, and the virginal white of the shoes /
one could say that the blood truly stood in a class of its own /
and yet more was about to come /
deeper, bloodier and longer /
this time, it was an anticipated surprise /
after all, you play a risky game when you decide to do something equivalent to plunging your hands into a murky basin hiding an upright butcher knife /
lifting garments, reaching in, travelling hesitantly over skin that hardly saw the day of light /
the blade gouged /
how was i supposed to know the sharp edge was facing downward? /
how was i not supposed to know, having thrown the blade in there myself? /
a stage where every man must play a part, and mine, a sad one /
it's not that i like hurting myself, but that i like being hurt.
and truly, that is why i want to be a spy.
to be dragged through hell, and live to tell the tale