hello world

its been so long that i don’t remember anymore.

can’t remember what its like to write.

to actually put that inner voice into words.

 

i so badly wanted to initially. then like any other addiction, it becomes a dull ache after awhile, like a musty whiff of dry alcohol out of an unused liquor cabinet.

 

like wanting chilli chips from a long gone canteen from a long gone break time.

 

like looking at a blank cream white canvas and seeing lines burn across it like an afterimage on an inner eye aching to carve out chalk onto paper.

 

i’m good at ignoring the important addictions. its the minor ones like caffeine i can’t kick.

 

what would i want to be? a mathematician. an artist. a writer. an event manager. interior designer. restaurant owner. book shop owner. art gallery owner. house wife. socialite. alcoholic.

 

i need to numb the images in my brain. i need to focus, i need to think of what i really want to be. i need to go through the process four year olds go through when writing an essay in class 1.

 

(ironically in my essay i said i wanted to be a mummy, just like mine. i even drew a picture of her. i loved essay writing always. i got a star because i was the only girl in class who didn’t want to be a fairy or a princess when they grew up)

 

someone wiser once said: to be or not to be. that is the question.

 

unfortunately he didn’t come up with a direct answer.