No one belongs here. Or maybe a bunch do. Way too many that it flooded. The shower drain is now stuck.
I'm sure once I was somewhat important in your house, yet now I questioned myself if that was purely an accident. Maybe you have images of me long before, but they were all creations of yours. Initially I was hosting you in a little, minor room. Nothing inside really. Right at this moment, you are like the kitchen. People need the kitchen to cook food to eat, you know? But they can din out too. There are lots of restaurants that don't taste that bad close by here. I did have big ambitious renovation plans for the master bedroom. Yet the person that was meant to stay there was solely living in my processing machine. Just like Cinderella, except I don't get a pumpkin-turned carriage nor puffy pretty dresses. Actually maybe at one moment she knew I have prosperous ideas on working out our bedroom, but she chose to stay at her own home, or someone else's for the time being. Now she's moving out, I'm not certain whether I should invite her over and together we will paint the walls, get Ikea furniture and cushions and everything we need. Maybe a kitten or two? No. That was just a joke. I don't like cats.
No. I can't do that. You are, or are you, still in the tiny dark room? You gave me lots of excitement and danger and made me feel like riding a roller coaster thousands of times. Although after the days at the amusement park I felt sick most of the time. But I kind of like it. I miss the rewarding feeling. I hate the endless worrying though. Are you gone? Do you have someone else in your home? Are you running to the other direction? Do you want to escape to the country side? But life won't be convenient there, just to warn you. Actually it's more that I want convenience, not you. You said you want a diamond that lasts forever. I want.... I do not know. I'm still young to think about all of this, okay? Stop asking me.
It's alright. I still have my renovation plans to drown in. You heard that she's leaving her old place, right? It is possible that she will love the interior design of my house. She studies art and architecture after all. I'm sure no matter how much she said she hates her studies, there would be still a tiny bit of memory which transforms to love, discretely crawling towards the elegant elevations drawn by me envisioning our future boom. Maybe I'll design the lights too. Locating them precisely where they will glow like the southern star and provide warmth like a hearth. Making people feel like they are in paradise. Or at least boost their dopamine so they feel good. Hopefully oxytocin comes in after that too, which makes the story conclude with the living merrily ever after ending. Just like my tulips.
Right.
In. Your. Dreams. (Or mine at least.)
02/23/09
I'm sure once I was somewhat important in your house, yet now I questioned myself if that was purely an accident. Maybe you have images of me long before, but they were all creations of yours. Initially I was hosting you in a little, minor room. Nothing inside really. Right at this moment, you are like the kitchen. People need the kitchen to cook food to eat, you know? But they can din out too. There are lots of restaurants that don't taste that bad close by here. I did have big ambitious renovation plans for the master bedroom. Yet the person that was meant to stay there was solely living in my processing machine. Just like Cinderella, except I don't get a pumpkin-turned carriage nor puffy pretty dresses. Actually maybe at one moment she knew I have prosperous ideas on working out our bedroom, but she chose to stay at her own home, or someone else's for the time being. Now she's moving out, I'm not certain whether I should invite her over and together we will paint the walls, get Ikea furniture and cushions and everything we need. Maybe a kitten or two? No. That was just a joke. I don't like cats.
No. I can't do that. You are, or are you, still in the tiny dark room? You gave me lots of excitement and danger and made me feel like riding a roller coaster thousands of times. Although after the days at the amusement park I felt sick most of the time. But I kind of like it. I miss the rewarding feeling. I hate the endless worrying though. Are you gone? Do you have someone else in your home? Are you running to the other direction? Do you want to escape to the country side? But life won't be convenient there, just to warn you. Actually it's more that I want convenience, not you. You said you want a diamond that lasts forever. I want.... I do not know. I'm still young to think about all of this, okay? Stop asking me.
It's alright. I still have my renovation plans to drown in. You heard that she's leaving her old place, right? It is possible that she will love the interior design of my house. She studies art and architecture after all. I'm sure no matter how much she said she hates her studies, there would be still a tiny bit of memory which transforms to love, discretely crawling towards the elegant elevations drawn by me envisioning our future boom. Maybe I'll design the lights too. Locating them precisely where they will glow like the southern star and provide warmth like a hearth. Making people feel like they are in paradise. Or at least boost their dopamine so they feel good. Hopefully oxytocin comes in after that too, which makes the story conclude with the living merrily ever after ending. Just like my tulips.
Right.
In. Your. Dreams. (Or mine at least.)
02/23/09
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