well i thought chele had it bad enough when her mum switched off her wireless just like that.

until i got the com switch flicked on me, in the middle of pw discussion some more.

and all because i said 'no i will not bathe now i have a pw discussion going on.'

then when i get out of the shower i get another lecture on how incorrigible i am by answering so rudely [seriously, wth?!] and i can't even answer the phone knowing that sam's calling me to chase me to get back online to continue the discussion because we are horridly behind and we have volcanoloads of things left to do.

sometimes, just sometimes

i hate my life.

used to be that whenever they got creative like that, i'd be even more artistic, with my wretched mind dancing with twisted blood-roses and starry glimmering blades.

but not any more; i promised. a promise that's taking all of me to keep, but i'm keeping it anyway.



mood: absolutely annoyed little blue diamond tear-breathing dragon with too-small wings to fly away.

--------
on a starkly different perspective.

there was this blind man on the bus on the way back.

after much sweeping around with his stick and much clashing into the railings he managed to stand up. and with every step he'd sweep around for the next railing. and painstakingly grope for it. until he got to the door, which was next to where i was standing.

asked me if the next stop was the stop for him, telling me where he was going.

yeah it is; i'm getting off at the next stop too.
oh okay thank you.
where are you going, uncle.
mm lorong 5. not too far, just up the steps a while from the bus stop.

the bus stops at the traffic lights quite a while before the bus stop. he, with much effort in his sweep - feel for railing - hold on routine, tries to get off, thinking he's already there.

ehh uncle we're not there yet!
oh really ah. -sighs- thank you.

and there he is, having gotten out of his seat, having to balance so precariously on a bus. when most of us blessed sighted people can barely balance properly while standing ourselves.

so we get home. the doors open. he pauses for a few seconds at the door, his stick probing for the pavement before he takes the rather big step down.

all this while i am hoping he doesn't fall while he goes down the steps.

or up the steps to go home, for the matter.

and so begins his sweeping, fleeting perspective of his way home.

he knows where the traffic light signal box is, veered right five steps before it to avoid it and still stay on the pavement. but he turned too much, found himself sweeping into the grass.

checked his course; painstaking step by painstaking step shifting left by what seemed like angle by angle.

shuffle, shuffle. sweep, sweep, sweep. shuffle. sweep. shuffle, shuffle.

stops too far before the staircase he's supposed to go up, faces the blank grass verge before him, and taps around in vain.

and i felt so pained for him, looking at the momentary worried, anguished look on his brow.

but he turns more to his left, taps and sweeps around some more, and hazards a few more steps.

turns right. aha, he's at the banisters. sweep, sweep, prod, prod -where are the steps, i can hear him thinking- swee..clank.

slow extending hand feeling for the memory of a cold hard banister.

slow careful feet taking the steps one at a time, one at a time. one.

traffic lights turn green.

i cross the road.

turn back, wanting to look and make sure he climbed the stairs safely.

all that's left is an empty staircase, and the back of his head disappearing into the distance.

i could almost hear his stick sweeping against the gravel, up there, across the road.



mood: tiny kitten realising the beauty of almost taken-for-granted flowers.

--------
and i thought that was -it- for the day until we realised we have freaking pw to rush. -rolls eyes- murphy's law indeed.

but well, hence the hastily last-minute arranged meeting tmr in school.

i hate last minute meetings. and going back to school to do pw? oh well.

and the rotten cherry on top of the sour cake is that i'm now locked out of my own laptop, thanks to my brothers.



mood: miniscule sparrow drenched and shivering in the relentless downpour.

--------
all in all, long post, long rant; overall, NOT good.

goodbye, cold obsidian night; hello, stony charcoal morning.

guess i won't be seeing the colour in my sky at all tomorrow.

sigh.

i hate this.



mood: disgusted. exhausted. drained. just.. horribly resigned to it all.