I think people are scared of me.
Cos everytime I say 'Hi', followed by 'Can you help me criticize my poems', they RUN AWAY.
Ok, maybe it's because they are really very busy, but still.
WHY IS EVERYONE SO BUSY, UNABLE TO CRITICIZE MY POEMS?!IS MY WRITING THAT BAD?!
So far, only Xiaoyu is willing to do so. Thanks, Xiaoyu (=
Anyway, it's either a) my poems are too cheem(they are NOT, it's kinda simplistic) b) my writing is cest la terrible or c) they are scared of me.
Hmm.
Even Gloria also run away from me =( I have a lack of English experts to consult! Ok lah, maybe it's because she is unusually hardworking (I say unusually cos I am not very hardworking AT ALL).
This is more of the I-don't-get-why-everyone-is-going-away-from-me than the omigosh-I-am-so-invincible-everyone's-scared-of-me!
Anyway, I was reading through my primary 6 chat logs(the saved ones) and was STUPEFIED at my horrible standard of English.
I am happy to say that I have come a long way since 2006. (=
TAKE THAT, SUCKERS!(In reference to those people who insulted my grades back then)
I don't know why, but whenever I show my poems to someone else who doesn't know how to appreciate poetry, I feel a surge of unease.
It's like last year when I wrote all those descriptive stuff, and funnily enough, this year I lost my vocab.
LOST. GONE. BYE-BYE. As if they had disappeared.
Maybe it's my fear of being normal again. Or waking up one day to find myself unable to write anymore, or find my vocab gone.
I just don't know how to express it. It's like those hot dread that creeps up on you and mires your heart until you can actually for tell what's gonna happen. It's a strange warning system I have.
And it isn't pleasant at all. Not the Oh-inspiration-just-struck-me kind of hot. It's the breathless (in a bad way), skittish, the feeling of slowly being lowered into inferno's fires. Like it's biding its time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Sometimes I just have this great ideas in my head, I plot out all the rhymes and stanzas, but when I want to translate it down on paper, it just sticks to my mind like caramel popcorn and refuses to come out.
Like I'm sharing my mind with someone out there who does not need to lift a finger while I struggle and struggle, and something half-baked comes out. I'm miss Star-crossed and she's miss blessed.
Down the path of insanity....I hope I'm not gonna go insane. Because I need to be sane enough to figure this out and improve
my eloquency.
ARGH. I REALLY HATE IT, for lack of better words, again.
How I wish for perfection.
Maybe someday when I am twenty or so I am going to look back on my written poetry and sigh in yearning of how I used to write.
P.S. I DENY THE FACT THAT I'M 'EMO'. I DO NOT SLASH MY WRISTS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
