hax.

it seems the title has no relation to the post.

ah yes. i love writing.

and there he sat, wobbly, with a green glass bottle in his hand, his mind dysfunctional. perhaps he had too much to drink, he thought. He peered at the label on the bottle. It read, 'Oldenlandia Water'. He chuckled to himself. Torrents of pain splashed through his head at intermittent intervals. His stomach churned. It felt very weird getting the 'i'm gonna be sick feeling'. His throat didn't feel right. Perhaps he had eaten something wrong.

in the midst of feeling horribly ill, his mind wandered. Thoughts raced through his head as though they were marathon runners competing to win a million dollars. (But at this juncture a million dollars didn't appear to mean very much to him) He reminisced about the past, recollected the memories that were more pleasant, shoving away those which brought pain and heartache. On the surface he acted like a drunkard, but in his head he was more than sober. Outward appearances, more often than not, can be deceptively deceiving. He thought about that.

He began to compose himself, sitting upright. Things are going to get better, in some way or another. Sometimes you just want so badly to let go, but you know you can't. For some inexplicable reason something somewhere clung on, in its stubborn refusal to be free. Free of the worries. Free of false hope.

Alone.


sian. PHYSICS PRACTICAL(S).