You know? My obsession with…obsessions is a bit more obsessive than my obsession for writing. Does that make sense? Let me restate that: My obsession for sh*t is more OCD than my obsession for writing. In hot pursuit (please, I just really want to use this phrase) of getting words outodere, I crashed out in my maxi on my bed. Well, more like being exhausted from reading loads of blogs. Also it’s gotten a little warmer which means….*ding, ding, dooiinnggg* Asthma. Asthma, I can spell this f*cking word. A-S-T-H-M-A. No, I didn’t copy it. Trust me.
I just want to talk about my feelings, that’s all. I am just not certain how to do that (I used the word “certain” likeawhooptidoo) Not long ago I felt like I wasn’t being as free as I used to be with my writing; this room I locked down in my…eh….heart? Yeah, it’s gotten that closed-room stink. The stink that asthmatics will be particularly alert of. Maybe that’s what’s making me asthmatic.
I have imbued the word “happiness” with undue meaning (I used some cool words in this sentence). I just think if I get in good physical shape, get good friends and take part in recreational activities…OK wait those things would make me joyful. I am not sure which f*cky way I was taking that line with. Without thinking too much of what I just wrote, I shouldn’t let instances in the past be markers of my personality. (I used another cool word in this para and that word isn’t “f*cky” really). Gosh, I am going no-f*cking-where with this.
My heart longs for somewhearey;
wherever there’s are no judgmenteary..
Update: I actually published this xD
The beautiful Image by my good friend Paul