Prodigal

Yep I still cringe over grammatical errors as much as spelling errors. I still abhor waking up so early in the morning for work. I still love the smell of curry over hot rice. Or the biting taste of raw fish for sushi and/or sashimi. I still get distracted when and loathes multi-tasking. And yes, I'm still having trouble balancing finances and shit. I just hope that will disappear with adolescence, hahaha, I'm so thick when it comes to this. What I am not or have become over the past millenium was more than I feared to become. I mean I'm always up for change. I was just amazed by the potency of it. I'm not that chocoholic anymore so I guess I need to change the name of this site. Does it really happen as we progress in life? The small sweet things fade and being replaced by bitter fragments of shattered memories? I hope not. I am not as scared as I was before. That one is purely false. Okay what else. I am not a regular employee anymore, contradicting the economical fluctaution I still opted for being self employed which is a good thing, I guess, that sort of reminded me that I still have an artist's heart. And the being broke part helps with that too. I'm not eating that much as compared to...uhmmm...let's see...ever since. It's not like something bane triggered this it's just I find myself idling most of the time rather than search for something to munch on. I'm lacking a bit of focus when it comes to my goals. I'm really confused with what I like right now. Well I guess I've always been like this with this. I really don't know what to want. I mean, I could live with just this and yet I could push myself just a little bit more. Maybe that was it. The next one would me being inspirationless, if there's such a term. It's not though I am uninspired. I beg to disagree. It's more of lacking the inspiration to do these things and we both know where I'm getting at so this might be just the end of it. In that line, I am most committed on being non-committed. I don't know it that's a sad fact or not, I could care less. Another one, I care less. Than usual. Oh maybe this is just it! The being cynic, the disappearances from social circles, the deprivation of sleep, the workaholic antics followed by the unending Christening vows and unending text invitations that I either come to because of the few friends who refuse to be left behind or I ignore because of the odd malevolent brain of mine refuses to function optimistically. I go to church at least. I still cook good food and bake. I mean what else can I do besides better myself rather than worsen it. I'm still sane am I? I just wish some things I don't really want to wish for, and I end up adamant about it. I just read New Moon and I can't help but wonder if I'm doing Bella in a way. The Zombie phase. But it's a little different with me. I try to act something else. I try to be Will Smith in I Am Legend but what I really am is this empty shell. It's more like an empty shell for now but I know I ought to paint this again. I'll survive. I always survive. But it never was easy. And sometimes I just wonder how on Earth can I breathe when I feel so dead. And that's when it hits me. I am insanely alive. My heart oddly beats, still. In another person's body. And it will stay like that for as long as like. For as long as I still feel it needs to be there. I snatch it back to mine every now and then, as often as I like, but much to my expectation, it still finds its way back, writhes from in between my lungs, into the vast void of the bermuda where I know it's still there, I can feel it, but I have no idea how to get it to stay within me. It's sort of a personal prodigal heart.