Life’s been a blur.
I’d be lying if I say I am busy. I’d also be lying if I say I am free. I find myself wondering how can one be so happening and unhappening at the same time?
At the very least I found what I like. Who I like. Why I like them.
At the very least I am giving them a chance. To embrace the love and hatred altogether.
I haven’t been reading much lately. The last book I read was “Still Alice” by Lisa Genova. And I have to admit that the content is still fresh in my head. I refuse to touch anything else. Maybe I have truly become lazy. I don’t know. But I reckon I ought to start reading soon if I want to complete my 2016 new year aspiration.
On the other hand, I wrote poems. Many poems. I gave them a fixed number of syllables, a fixed structure, a fixed word count per line and so on. I am proud of them. I’d like to think that they are poems, I really do, but I know they aren’t. Just irrelevant words and random sentences jumbled up together aesthetically presented – content-less.
Just like me.