Warning: über depressive. I am now chatting using "." Slept 4 hours last nite.. How come I only get the inspiration to write when I feel like a zombie??? I only took abt 1 hour this tym.. TT time at Mr Tan's houz I used 3 hours + to write a 700+words essay.. Cheng2 Jiu4 Gan3.. Writers write only in dead of nite armed wif coffee and feeling half-dead..

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My Angel ~ ò ~

I am an addict.

I'm addicted to it

The strangely relieving feel of tearing up your insides and slowly let the inevitable process of 'healing' begin.

Let the unmerciful numbness snatch away the release I'm yearn for.

Thirst for.

Live for.

For without it, I would have lost myself to my mind.

My mind.

It tells me of a wonderful, peaceful, unconscious and painless sleep.

One where I will never have to feel again.

One where nobody will be able to hurt me again.

A place without hope.

People always say hope is a beautiful thing, something you can hold onto, make life worth living.

I beg to differ.

Hope is beautiful.

Beautifully cruel.

It gives you the intricately veiled illusion that everything is alright, you can go on.

Just as you start believing in it, really think that not all gods are so heartless, that though despairs abound in this world, hope can gives us salvation from these condemnations.

The deceivingly pretty shawl is roughly and bluntly pulled away.

Revealing all the lies and deceit.

From the peaceful waters of Heaven, you fall into the unforgiving flames of Hell.

Fall into the elaborately woven trap.

Feel yourself cry out in anguish as the glistening, fragile-looking shards of glass pierce through your limbs, your body broken.

Feel it being ripped apart.

Nothing but a play-toy in the hands of an uncaring and emotionless angel of Fate.

Hear her childish and ringing laughter echo in your ears, mocking you as you lie, shattered on the cold unyielding floor, your soul in heavy, glacial chains.

"Yo! Snap out of it! Thinking of your significant other, ne? Mind the flowers you're arranging!"

A smile slips easily onto my lips.

Such an irony that smiling to hide the ugliness of this earth is like second nature to me.

Why do we humans do so many empty, meaningless things?

Things that will vanish like a ripple, fading away to nothing in a pool of water?

We struggle through lives, being nothing more than pawns of the supernatural and heavenly beings above us whom we insist do not exist, despite the cold, hard fact that our every single moves are dictated by them, enjoying the show, watching sadistically as we witless and powerless human flail about in our daily lives, taking delight in our sufferings.

And yet knowing all these, we still try to struggle against our fate.

Insisting that fate lies in our own hands.

Perhaps it is because of this foolishness that makes us humans with pathetically short lives compared with those divine, eternal beings, live with such passion.

Oh dear.

I have sidetracked again.

I look down at the flower arrangement which I had finished while immersed in all my musings.

*Fiery red hibiscus framed the innocent baby blues, orangey burgundy clashing with the dreamy sapphire, looking morbid yet pretty at the same time. Seemingly yielding soft green ivies coiled around the various flowers. In the middle of the arrangement lay a pure, unsuspecting white lily.

With mild amusement, I noticed that the naïve-looking white lily's stem was somehow broken, snapped into two. How fragile its beauty and life was.

No matter.

I withdrew it from the otherwise flawless arrangement, and carelessly threw it in the wastepaper basket, replacing it with another identical untainted white lily.

"Hey! That's a real beauty! Where did you get the inspiration for it?"

For a moment, something seemed to flit across my playful features.

Then, as if nothing had happened, my trademark playboy smirk was back firmly in place.

"Oh, I got the idea from one of the ladies I picked up the other day."

"She must be one stunning angel to have inspired you to create this!"

"Yeah. Real stunning."

This alluring angel retreated back to the endless seams in my mind, content with the results and rewards of the day, having added another crack in my sanity.

Biding her time and waiting for the next opportunity to inspire my next creation.

"She's all mine. Don't you even think about it,"

You wouldn't want to know her.

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10:00pm to 11:02pm Wednesday 23 July 2003{3 days before my B-Day..} Copyright 2003 ~F|awed[S|n~ -Legacy of |etHa|-Grace- Written in tune to Other Side of the Moon, Weiss Kreuz