Half a letter for you.
Puzzle Entry.
If something was special to you, wouldn't you be treating it differently? Because if it was special to you, and you treat it like everything else, what's the sense of that thing being special to you? I know I'm not making sense again. But that's just how it is, when you're a little bit on the 'cuckoo' side.
My emotions have been stable recently. There hasn't been any major events that really turn my world upside down like before, nor any heard or unheard words that make me feel driven to leave the house. I like the feeling of being sane, thank you very much. And as much as possible, I'd like to stay that way.
I think it helps being busy. That's why it's good to drown in work sometimes (well, it's effective for me.) Instead of thinking about other things, you find yourself focused on the more important stuff. Like, I have to get this done today. So that's what I do. That's what I dedicate my time to.
I'm feeling a bit sleepy already, actually. But I'm afraid to go up and go to my room. I'm afraid of what I might see there. My mom, perhaps. Asleep. Or maybe, I won't even get to open the door at all. When I turn the door knob, it's probably locked already. Either of the two.
5 minutes to midnight. Literally and exactly. I don't know what significance that holds for me. I just felt like the time is special. Always thought of time as special. I always take note of it. I'm lost without my watch.
FOR YOU:
I hope you've read this slowly. It's something I wrote. And IF it's special to you, you would treat it differently; read it differently than your novels and school books. I'm somewhat offended by the way you read my letters. I know it's the way you read and maybe it's wrong for me to ask you to read my stuff differently than your normal way of doing. But it makes me feel that you don't feel every word of what I write. Every word I write has a purpose, even if sometimes, they don't fit in the sentence right and make a wrong grammar of some sort. But that's just how the way my mind works. A jumble. When your eyes pass through it, it makes me feel...brushed away or something. You do cook right? You tell me that sometimes an ingredient lacks. You taste everything. Feel the texture of every ingredient that makes it perfect or imperfect. That's the same way my letters work. You have to taste everything. Like me, sometimes, I have to read something once or twice- and slowly, at that- to really understand and feel what it's trying to say. I hope that you'd be the same way... :'c
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My thoughts are incongruent again. I wonder why.
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If something was special to you, wouldn't you be treating it differently? Because if it was special to you, and you treat it like everything else, what's the sense of that thing being special to you? I know I'm not making sense again. But that's just how it is, when you're a little bit on the 'cuckoo' side.
My emotions have been stable recently. There hasn't been any major events that really turn my world upside down like before, nor any heard or unheard words that make me feel driven to leave the house. I like the feeling of being sane, thank you very much. And as much as possible, I'd like to stay that way.
I think it helps being busy. That's why it's good to drown in work sometimes (well, it's effective for me.) Instead of thinking about other things, you find yourself focused on the more important stuff. Like, I have to get this done today. So that's what I do. That's what I dedicate my time to.
I'm feeling a bit sleepy already, actually. But I'm afraid to go up and go to my room. I'm afraid of what I might see there. My mom, perhaps. Asleep. Or maybe, I won't even get to open the door at all. When I turn the door knob, it's probably locked already. Either of the two.
5 minutes to midnight. Literally and exactly. I don't know what significance that holds for me. I just felt like the time is special. Always thought of time as special. I always take note of it. I'm lost without my watch.
FOR YOU:
I hope you've read this slowly. It's something I wrote. And IF it's special to you, you would treat it differently; read it differently than your novels and school books. I'm somewhat offended by the way you read my letters. I know it's the way you read and maybe it's wrong for me to ask you to read my stuff differently than your normal way of doing. But it makes me feel that you don't feel every word of what I write. Every word I write has a purpose, even if sometimes, they don't fit in the sentence right and make a wrong grammar of some sort. But that's just how the way my mind works. A jumble. When your eyes pass through it, it makes me feel...brushed away or something. You do cook right? You tell me that sometimes an ingredient lacks. You taste everything. Feel the texture of every ingredient that makes it perfect or imperfect. That's the same way my letters work. You have to taste everything. Like me, sometimes, I have to read something once or twice- and slowly, at that- to really understand and feel what it's trying to say. I hope that you'd be the same way... :'c
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My thoughts are incongruent again. I wonder why.
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