e-Bomb, the fire cracker in a small package. e-Bomb, the philosopher. e-Bomb, the late bloomer staging her own life revolution. e-Bomb, the history watcher. e-Bomb, the lover. e-Bomb, the friend. Welcome to My World. Here's my story.
To be tactful, just shut up -- you'll astonish when you suddenly do speak.
To effectively maximize the value of your sleeves, double them as pot-holders-on-the-go.
To be wise, stop thinking and start feeling.
To be fashionably sensitive, wear torn clothes, stop grooming your hair for a few days and stay away from fashion magazines.
On warm afternoons after lunch, I would sometimes drift off to that world in between sleep and wake and wonder ...
What if this physical world as we know it really was just a little side job that God worked on when s/he was doing the exact same thing I'm doing right now -- on a warm afternoon after a filling meal, something to pass time before drifting off to sleep. I mean, that would totally explain why this world isn't perfect, right? Because it really wasn't meant to be perfect!
When that higher being rolled over after a nice little nap and delighted in this little world of a creation inspired by nothing but boredom, maybe s/he thought it was, well, cute, and decided to keep it -- like a snow globe.
If that were true, what, then, would we think about the grudges we hold today? Or the job we didn't get? What about the neighbors you hate? And what of the wars we engage in? Political fuck-ups? Religious zeal?
Ah, they're just tiny imperfections that occured during somebody's an afternoon nap.
I must admit that I'm absolutely and completely lost.
Lost.
How many other words in this language are there to describe that foggy, isolated, tiring feeling of being lost, when home starts to wear out on you because you have nowhere to return home from, but you're reluctant to step out because you're disppaointed at what's outside?
You just don't want to be anywhere, not even here.
City Tree by Dan S, inspired by stiletto.love.
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