Sunday journal

posted on 17 May 2009 22:05 by pearwow

normally, i don't like doing diary here.. but today i feel like keeping it



Today i woke up late coz it's Sunday that i'm total free from any tasks, though i have some, but i don't care. It should be normal when i woke up this late i'd feel like calling him, but not today. i should leave him alone for a while coz he had things to be done and i shouldn't bother. the way i should let him alone was the way i let  alone myself.

i spent time for myself, cleaning the house as my duty on weekend. for two days,or more, i got still feeling. the feeling that is so still inside me like a line that didn't keep off track. when i had my time, i sat in front of the notebook, trying to complete the task i really didnt' care. then i stop doing it , as i didn't really begin, as fast as i started feeling to do.

all day was so silly and useless. i couldn't count how many times i open facebook or msn or webboard or blogs. click to open, then close and open it again. nothing was entertaining at the moment. though i didn't feel sad...just feeling down to myself.

issue like "life" popped up when i washed dishes. it deteriorated me more but only on the surface of the still feeling, that made it even more still.

surprised that the thing naturally sparks me didn't spell a cast on me on a still Sunday. it's because of the call that didnt ring and the call that never went off--

i was so tired of doing nothing online so i switched off and relaxing myself in the old way. my bed , my blanket, my pillow and my little side pillow were always my perfect end-of-day resort. i read through Murakami's pages that i had finished days ago and was trying to start where i stopped by falling asleep last night. i found it and continued.

mind was reading the each word but i knew that i waited for something to happen. something that was missing. i kept on reading, my eyes kept rolling on line by line. i continued reading, my mind kept on wandering something that was missing.

when something missing was found. it came back like it wasn't mine before. (last sentence was the most selfish and chiildish side of feeling ever be, that it should be revealed--ever)

at this very point is difficult to articulate.

i came back to Murakami's in my hands. tears running down just like Murakami saying about running i was reading, except his running had a propose, structured and rationale, mine was unexplained. i didn't feel sad as i said. it's just a still feeling, untill now i know it's not so still. tears ran down .... i was crying... but don't know why.

Or i cried for a failure of pretending, pretending to be an adult, to be strong that i am
truely not.





mm..not sure if I understand correctly la..but it's okay to be childish and to wonder about million things in your life.

Expectation, reality,fate and externazied cost to the state of mind are something we can't control, but wonder and accept the way things are.

As we grow older, the question 'what life really is' hits me harder, it's easier to be irrational..but we need rationale to keep on pretending that we understand.

Comment too long haha..later

#4 By onzone ( on 2009-06-01 15:43

คร่อกกกกกกกกกกกกกก...ภาษาปะกิดหมดเลย (อ่านไม่ออกงะ )สวัสดี แล้วจากไปsad smile sad smile

#3 By freeda on 2009-05-17 23:14

I also like Murakami big smile

#2 By ta_THINK_nhong on 2009-05-17 23:13

big smile

#1 By noomnoi on 2009-05-17 23:03