Draft 110

I write this the way I write all my drafts (109 unposted thoughts or maybe just empty pages like the numerous notebooks I have lying around, their off white pages left blank and untouched) - aimless, convoluted yet strangely liberating. I love writing in this free haphazard fashion, mindlessly penning my thoughts into words. I have so many thoughts, racing from one idea to another like vintage sports cars racing through the sepia toned film of my tiny brain. I wish I had the courage to write down every silly thought I have ever had yet I am still unsure as to how I can translate my thoughts into coherent sentences. So for now, "Hello" and

 "Good bye"

Mood Ring: Annoyed

"Why can't I paint sushi?"

I take the worst photos

Is it weird that I find this strangely addictive?

Huh?

He turned around and said sincerely 

"Your bag is gay."

Short stories with no beginning and no ending

She remained seated, her paint dried up, her four cigarette buds lying in their ashes listening to music she used to dub as "ghost songs". She watched the stillness of her paint brushes as they lay motionless in murky water. With one thought running in her mind "Do you think that writers are all sad or that all sad people write?"

What do you think?

Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life

My new favourite art page on Facebook: Berlin Art Parasites

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart

It has almost been a year since I last blogged at this beautiful space. This space has been here for 7 years and it has been a pretty accurate depiction of V, my persona on this space. So much of this blog was a part of me and yet also a part of the fictional person I wanted society (or my friends) to perceive me to be. It appears that I (like many teenage girls at my age) had a more than slight obsession with food, love and body image. Whatever this space was, it was mine and it was real. So, at 21 years old (the great 21, the holy grail of cross roads between pubescent teen and adulthood), I look back at these posts the same way we all do with old diaries, cringing yet secretly thankful that this time has passed. I contemplated deleting certain blog entries or the entire blog as a whole, but I stopped and realised that at the end of the day: this blog was me. I WAS this crazy, ignorant, passionate youth who's very outdated blog still attracts 57 people a day and you know what? I am thankful for that. Thank you to whoever you are who has ever bothered to read this space. Your views brought me joy.

“Try as we might, we write what we write”