Once upon a boring evening, this was what I thought of writing. I didn’t get to complete it and I doubt that I ever will.
I will not bury myself with work. I will not meet too many people. I will stay home and rest a little, blog a little. I will just free my mind. I will not listen to rants. I will not agree to them neither. I will just be neutral and laid back. I will keep my cool. I will do it for myself and for the people who worry about me and my eye bags. I will be normal.
Keep out. You can’t enter my room. Though you don’t see walls, there is a barrier and it is called ‘Privacy’ for a reason. You do not have to mind what clothes I wear, which parties I attend or in whose company I am with. You do not have to mind me at all.
Speaking of incomplete written works, I was a bit anxious to post about another blog I started. It was a sort of literary journal I kept unnoticed for a time… for quite some time. It’s entitled with a very cheesy title Four Chapters.
Four Chapters was supposedly a book I started thinking of writing a summer or two ago. I can’t even call it a “book” because it’s not that long actually. Through time, the plot of the story has changed but the main points have remained, I guess. I always loved writing in the summer mostly because I had more time. I wanted to be a writer- but turned up as a kind of computer techie (though not the professional type). What’s funny is, when I was fifteen, I thought I’m gonna be one of the few kids who could publish a book at that age. Eventually, I didn’t finish a written work that was worth publishing (my very encouraging friend told me what I wrote was more of a “booklet” because it was too short- I’m being sarcastic here, he wasn’t encouraging at all). When I was sixteen, I thought the same thing- and still no book was done. Now I’m seventeen and the problem is, I don’t think I can do that anymore. Ha ha. Silly. ![]()
300 


Recent Reactions