I wander more often than I talk. I’m not really a sociable person, its not that I refuse companionships, I just prefer to be alone more often than not.
When I am alone, I contemplate more about the things happened and still happening in my life. It’s like my everyday dose of scanning my system to preempt future eradicates. Funny it may seem but I feel like I’m doing a monologue of my own gossip girl episode, it’s like I’m disk jockeying my own radio station, the only peculiar thing is I am also the listener, and actually, an avid listener.
School and stuffs are what’s keeping me still in this specific set of mind. I don’t know but I feel like if I lose focus on trimming the insignificants off of the brim, it will all be pathetic, and so am I. There are instances that I already see myself one heck of a perfectionist. I’m trying to avoid being one as much as possible, but the more I chase for what the norm is telling me, the more I drastically become the childish OC who sobs at very minimal mistakes and find every plain situation their ruthless woes.
Fictioneering. That’s what this muscle in my skull is exactly doing. I can’t blame her (or it) if that’s what she’s doing unintentionally, for at the very first place this insane little girl told her to intentionally do things in her way.
This will not go any further than mediocre. Maybe I’m just tired of all this rambling things happening in my life, and so yeah, I’m trying to put things into perspective by making sure they will all be done perfectly.
Maybe I’m just off course of my sanity, pretty not much ready for a fine conversation yet. This had been gone bland, frank and unviable, but yeah, thank you for wasting some 5 minutes of your time.