It’s somewhat depressing to remember that just approximately 6 months ago I was draped in a too-big but sinfully comfortable yukata after an indulgent half-hour at the hot baths, lying languorously on the bed in a Japanese hotel room and streaming music from my friends back in Singapore via Simplify Media while surfing the Internet randomly. It was snowing heavily outside, and everyone else was sleeping soundly - indeed, it was 2 AM.
I contrast the serenity I felt then with the ennui that plagues me now; it is disheartening. I remember poring over the treasure trove of photographs taken during the day. Now I hardly even have the time or motivation to take the Nikon out for a brief spin. All I have troves of now are uninspiring but important assignments that the perfectionist part of me is reluctant to touch yet obsessively adamant on mastering.
—
A shitty poem of mine that possibly suits this torpor:
Shine your promise on me
Muse, I don’t think I can
Live any further than the door
Out of my room of doubt and misery.
I can’t see the ends of my
Tapering fingers, though I can
Feel where they touch.
It’s invariably slimy these days,
Seems like I’m stuck in a rut.
—
It’s five days to my birthday and boy does it suck.
Post a Comment