BLOG OF RANDOMNESS

my random musings, now in words.

14 days to Twenty

14 is the number of my house.

And I love my house.

No, not because of the family warmness and all that shit, which never existed since I reached puberty. It’s not like the family in the cereal advertisement, no. I love my room, to be exact. It’s super tiny, but I love it. Those wall in my room witnessed how much time I devote myself to music, how hard it was for me to force myself something that I am not passionate about at first (The Mother kinda forced me to learn the piano when I was six. Typical), all my secret compartments where I hid all my priceless fashion magazines that I bought with the pocket-money meant for lunch at school, the laziness I had to finish up my Math homework during high school and resort to writing music and pretending that I am an English actress with the Harry Potter series as my script, and my Door of Angst which was actually the door to my room, which was painted by The Mother in a horrid shade of moss-green, where I usually sit down on the floor and start writing at the back of the door about you know, my angst, reaching to the very top of the door itself with some pathetic doodles I came up before I figured out how to properly draw an object. It’s the only place where my insecurities condenses. I don’t know how. It remains a mystery to me. My room, the small area of flooring I own to myself, was my first ‘stage’. The Ikea mirrors were (and still, actually) my own personal cameras. It is amazing how my insecurities ran away from myself as I stepped in my room.

These insecurities I had, is just too much at times. It’s like there’s two sides of me; one trying to be oblivious with myself, and one being such a niffy freak about myself. Oh yeah, and today, we had to do this impromptu speech thing for English, but I didn’t volunteer myself to speak in front. And that is so unlike me. Because I like to talk, see? But the most unreal thing happend there and then, where I sat there on my chair, thinking. It felt like the alien in me is against myself, you see? I’m nearing Twenty, and my insecurities attacked me without notice. Again. Perfect.

Oh insecurities. I can’t seem to find a way to run from them. Physical wise, character wise and intelligence wise. Just lemme sit and think some more, while I sip my coconut drink to soothe every shit out.

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This entry was posted on October 14, 2010 by in MY CONCERNS.

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