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what, no cookies?
you know about the voices that speaks in your head?i listen to them somtimes. most of the times. sometimes they tell me good things. sometimes they make me wish for bad things. |
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about this blog
it's basically the inside of sakinah's brain.but mercifully edited, censored, and anaesthesised with a heavy dose of prozac. tagboard
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Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed |
bound to be free
the running figure--right leg bent at the knee, thigh forward and muscles out (she'd say fat, definitely), left leg a couple centimeters above the ground in mid-motion- -yellow high boots- -yellow raincoat- -yellow wide-brimmed hat- -THERE'S NOTHING LIKE NICH- -there's nothing like the PS3 either. came uber close to actually owning one today, again. at times like this, I'm starting to think Nietzsche might have been right about Hope and its futility- -left arm up in harmony with right leg, fists clenched, relaxed hold- -coat ends just above knee-level- -coat made of something like plastic. minimum crease- -watched Inception again today and could not help but notice that Aliaa was spot on about Arthur and Eames- -hair a-flying, that beautiful mess frozen on paper- God, I want to draw. But I need to stop procrastinating so bad. Oh, and I smell syrup. Yes, that cheap red syrup thing that 2nd RC serves for Tuesday lunches. It smells awfully refreshing right now, though. So want. I also miss the smell of Natsume; grass and country air mixed with fresh boy-ish sweat. I want to smell. Smell. Smell. Pn Arb and En Syamsol wake up every morning wishing for something more than going to work just to bully dental students. Pn Arb secretly wants people to know that once she gets those horn-rimmed glasses off, she's Superwoman with shocking pink undies over them leotards. En Syamsol is... well. He's something alright. -she's breaking into a run, but she's in no hurry for anything. she's suspended in air, but the drop in her knee suggests gravity. she is, but she isn't- -dreams made broken- -intentionally made tacky- |