Skip to main content

All or Nothing.

I killed a man. I didn't. I wouldn't be able to. Maybe I could. But that isn't the matter here. If you assigned me such a job, I would have to be completely in or not at all.

I couldn't help you kill a man. But I could kill a man. Which isn't great. Murder is not a great example to use here either. In extremes, I can pretend it doesn't have a deeper meaning because the shock of the example never washes away. Maybe it will, with time.

One foot in the door, one foot out. I couldn't. I would enter your house and ravish it whole or I would leave, never to be seen. I can't leave it half done. Perfectionism paired with procrastination is worrying about the quality of your work before you have started. That worry has taken the joy of my Tuesday holiday away.

I am least worried about what to wear tomorrow. I should stay on theme, I remind myself. I could always use the excuse of traveling to this time period. Maybe I should wear less black for some sort of difference.

Maybe no one cares. I don't, for one. Or do I, if I ponder a paragraph over what to wear? Maybe I do. But in the morning, I will have other things to worry about, like the manual I have been assigned and procrastinating to make.

Another less consequential thing I have been procrastinating on is eating black bean noodles. I have wanted to try it for ages. But I stick to what I know. Cheap and reliable. A good amount of food that will have me straining at my clothes. That's when I know it's enough.

I suspect it's not healthy. Not the noodles. The urge to consume it all in one sitting. It's not as though the world will collapse in the next minute. Actually, it might. But dying with a full stomach isn't a crime. It might be to some.

The two empty dark fantasy boxes stare at me every day. They know I took them all away. One by one. Guiltily, crumbs scatter across my pillow, some stuck in my hair. I have a full box I haven't opened yet on my table.

I know once I have started, I can't stop. I have to ask myself every time I do this: should I kill the man or should I leave him be?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ominous Positivity: Reflecting on Korea Day

It's inevitable. The poetry and prose can only shield me from vulnerability for so long. Someone is bound to read through the poorly written literary devices and figure out the true meaning of all my works that I run away from by writing it (How presumptuous). Or no one cares.  The latter is the greater possibility. I find comfort in it, no one cares. And on some days, it's despair in how no one cares.  True to my character, I am going to switch the topic to another one. For today, I wish to reminisce on Korea Day and as much as I would love to say it started with me speaking Korean and having a wonderful day. It didn't. I sat on my glasses.  Having a power of -6 and allegedly even more, I can't move around without my glasses as there is a possibility I will fall into a ditch, the depth perception does lessen when you can't perceive objects, it turns out.  It was frustrating, the whole sitting on glasses debacle. I had never done it before. Out of character as I wou
Post a Comment
Read more

The Chase to Curfew.

My heart is out of my chest. It's in my throat, beating like it's struggling to stay alive. But it's more alive than ever. The curfew is at 7 PM. You know it, I know it. Everyone knows it. Especially the duos that linger at Martin Junction. Yet we all love to tease the limits of how far a body can run and make it in time. The urgency, the need, the frustration, the fulfillment. There’s something exhilarating about skirting the edge of danger. About feeling the adrenaline course through your veins as the clock ticks down. I reach out for it during exams, actively working towards it—to be sleep-deprived and see how far I can push myself and still dish out something legible. I always take that one fake quote in stride, "Edison built the electric bulb in a night," or something of that sort. It's fake for multiple reasons, the stealing allegations aside. But it brings me hope. And this hope is quite delusional when it’s not accompanied by action. You can call it pr
Post a Comment
Read more

Rainy Reflections.

What do I write today? I pondered for hours while doing mundane tasks. The sunlight stayed with me for a while, then it left, all alone, before the tube of electricity joined my thoughts. "Aren't you eating dinner?" asked my roommate. That's when I finally broke the silence I had condemned myself to until I wrote. I ate dinner and drank tea instead of coffee because I wanted to sleep earlier. I came back to my room, determined to write the third blog post. I couldn't give up so soon, could I? The sounds of doors and windows slamming against the walls, screeching laughter, and people running around seeped into my room. "It's cool outside, the rain, it's raining," said my roommate. I am not a huge fan of the rain. It always made me moody. I wasn't a hater either. Something in me whispered back to my roommate, "It's raining? It's raining!" I jumped up barefoot and ran out to feel the cool breeze against my face. My feet felt th
Post a Comment
Read more