Sunday, August 8, 2010

Run. Fly.

I seem to have so many things in mind, but I can't arrange them in a proper manner or even in words. Like white noise.

Incomprehensible, yet it seems to convey something. (That time is too late/early and you should be asleep and not watching TV.)

I want to run, as fast as I want. I want to feel the wind gushing at two sides of me, to hear the loud rhythmic heartbeat, to feel the heat rising on my face and in my body, to rid of anything undesired from within. At the end of it I want to be able to look at things differently, because I want to run away from this narrow point of view as well, away from this me that I want to shed off.

And also I'm turning into Doraemon wtf :S

I want to be cute, not round! :(((

I often see planes flying at close distance. Everytime I see one, I wonder of its destination. Might it be local, or to another continent? Might it be raining, or snowing there? But more often than not there is no answer to that open-ended question, because this thought would come right after the question: I want to fly too.

I want to fly to a place where with the kind of comfortable anonymity I want. To just sit around and stare at the sky, or movement, or inanimation. To be able to doze off naturally without reason and wake up without guilt.

This all takes time.


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