for all the words of comfort, thank you.

i've been on a reading binge lately... somehow getting lost in something infinitely vast in your imagination is more satisfying than the reality im immersed in right now. i construct war zones and romantic interludes at the back of my eyes, in the corner in the dark where no light from my present can reach. it is enough for a distraction, gets me out of the here and now.

the doctor is surprised at how im holding up, tells me to move out, i say that is not a possibility.

reflections are always such a tedious task, perhaps that is why i've been reading too. i use borrowed words to reconstruct what i feel or what i want to feel, and substitute with how i am feeling..the borrowed emotions are less tedious and less draining, and that is only how i manage to go on.





20 Jan 2010. Disaster Risk Managment class.
(how ironic?..or perhaps, very astute)


How could i begin to weave the fleshy strips of my narrative, the internal monologue constantly repeating my story to myself..to spew out of a hollow dry mouth, hoping the inky strains on paper can covey some small part of the stories through which we live.


at what point do we being to unravel the story from our own, the completely aloof fictitiuos tale from reality...transcribed out of pure boredon, burst of litereary vomit or distracted musings carefully crafted to sit on the sidelines, (but never a reflection of soul, never)


,...................

If i could write a story, it too would be about maps. 

-eeda