What I am

I'm proud of me this week. I'm doing much better in school than I thought.

But on the other hand, I am entirely lacking in other aspects of my life.

I think I worry my mother too much, and my lack of caring about myself makes me worried too.

But working up an effort to care makes me feel aggravated. Why can't I be the me now? It's not the healthiest me, but it's the most comfortable me that I've come to know.

Buy me a forest and a library and I'll love you forever. That's all I need.

but you know, without the bugs... and all. thanks.

Thoughts on a bus.

I count silly things with a conviction that is needless.

I create Haikus on the bus with unknowing brevity.

I watch people with a self-consciousness that is astonishing.

Sometimes I get so tense I feel as if I might just break apart.

These thoughts on the bus come suddenly, so I memorize them as if they have an importance I may realize later. Like dreams from my sleep.

I have a dream...

So last night I had this weird dream.

(//Okay, in my first post I mentioned in my goals how I'm going to post once a fortnight, let's switch that with the sketchbook/diary entry okay? From henceforth, posting can be whenever, sketchbook/diary will have to wait for once a fortnight. Anyhow, it's not yet 2010 and the goals don't start till then!)

I dreamt of a locust butterfly with monarch colours. It was a child I was taking care of and he had transformed to an insect. I kept him in a 2 litre pop bottle that I had thought was filled with water. For some reason, I had thought it would live and I kept talking to it, encouraging it, caring for it, until I noticed that it was floating quite limply above the water. Yet, even before then, I had sub-consciously noticed that it was floundering, but I had no intentions of letting it out. So in my dismay, I began to carefully pour the liquid out of the bottle and reach for it, only to realize that the liquid inside the bottle was not water, but pop!

I was slightly worried, but not as worried as I should be. As I began to pour out the liquid, the rush of pop ripped the wing off of the poor insect. At that point, I already knew that the insect was dead. I'm not sure if the me in my dream remembered that the insect was the transformed child, but I was quite calm.

I carefully lifted the bug out of the bottle and laid it on a napkin. Patting it down, the me in my dream thought of drying the insect then taping it in my sketchbook. Sub-consciously I realized how cruel that was as it was the transformed child but I didn't think too much of it, and the emotion I remember having at the point was me feeling very pleased of myself to collect such an insect to add with my collection of dead insects.

Then I woke up. I think I still felt pleased and was a little dismayed when I couldn't find my dried bug anywhere in real life.

Oh dreams, sometimes you are too real for me.