Dear Diary,
It is now exactly 1.51am and I formally proclaim that I can barely close my eyes even though my weary body was squealing for total nerves and muscles hiatus. As always you would be asking why (if you could talk that is), and I’d tell you that my mind is mulishly working; mulling over things, non-humdrum things I must say.
I’ve been thinking, and thinking I’ve been doing for a jiffy now.
I’ve never thought that watching hungry-looking fishes in greenish, sugar caned-coloured pond would pull a cord in me. I’ve never thought that gazing at someone’s devilish grin means the world to me. I’ve never thought that a simple motion of familiarity would make me feel like a million buck. I’ve never thought that such mundane episode of savouring sweet dokong leaves an incessant craving in me(lets drop the part where I had to pay recurrent visits to the loo afterwards..lol). I’ve never thought that ramming my teeth into yummy fresh bloody red plums would put a smile on my face. I’ve never thought that just merely hymning a name would make my heart beat 3 times faster.
O boy..I guess I’ve never thought of lots of things before.
With You’ve Got To Read This Book! by Jack Canfield and Gay Hendricks (a book which I suggest to all for pure motivation and restoring the wounded inner self, courtesy of the other half) held and clutched close to the upper left side of my body, my heart is soaring. Yeap. Just like a bird. Not just any bird. A strong one.
Up, up and away.
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