ok. I've swung into one of those depressed modes of late, AGAIN. Why is it that I can never seem to make my happiness last? Woe to the horros of staying at home. No. It's not a home. It's a dingy hellish iron pen...ok...I just mean a prison. What has become of all my dreams and aspirations? Am I trying to hard to be someone that I am not? Someone please splash some cold water on me. I guess it's time I wake up.
I have a story to tell...
One day, LiL' Bingey finished an entireTUB of metropolitan ice-cream. She does this while staring at the teevee..not knowing what in the world she's watching half the time..or all the time I may say. Well..she's basically like some HUngry machine..chomping down on everything edible...fortunately the neurons in her brain were sensitive enough to stop her from chomping down the tub too...then mum returns..Bingey races to the toilet WITH the EMPTY tub feeling Oh So DamN Grounded....and suddenly realising how sick the ice-cream was making her feel...she locks the toilet door...expecting the worse to happen...and it DID. Off she went out of the house..and off she went running around the neighbourhood..in her flip-flops, not caring about how awkward it looked to be running ard at night ard the neighbourhood in FLIP FLOPS!
Then she started exercising rigorously. This seemed like such a familiar routine. As she perspired..she felt the frustration mounting and then diminishing. She ran and ran and ran and ran and then she realised that she had appeared back at her door step...she didn't want to knock on the door..she wanted to prove herself to be strong, strong-headed. She hid at a corner behind the curtain of hanging laundry outside her home..and kept totally quiet and still...no more running for her...just regrets and more regrets..her mind was a blank...she knew she had did it again...she didn't want it to happen..life had no meaning for her no more...she peered down nine stories..and saw the cold and hard concrete ground..it was so tempting..it was so easy to end all her troubles...but God said it wasn't right... she decided to just get up and knock on the door. As she stepped back in , whatever sounds around her became mere echos...echos of words which have been spoken many times over...she rushed into her room..turned on the radio..and listened.
The next day..she recorded whatever that happened the night before into her diary and kept it as yet another unhappy episode in her life...
....and this is the end of my story.
* Psst...Betcha scratching your head rite now...;P*
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