Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I've realised just how many notebooks I have. And I write in all of them. In fact, somedays I write in all of them. I just have so much to say, but I have such a bad memory that I have to write it down anywhere I can. My hand, an assignment, a stray piece of paper lying around.

I once wrote on the desk..at the time I thought it was very important stuff. And it turned into a pretty nice poem, if you ask me. But it took awhile of hiding it from my grandmother before I got it off. There's still a mark there from pressing too hard with the pen. I run my hand over it sometimes to have a laugh.

It's almost as if I leave little pieces of myself everywhere on purpose. Like, if I died in my sleep tonight, I know that they would find something I wrote, and decide to share it with the world. Or something like that.

1 comment:

  1. [=
    This truly makes me smile.
    Somehow, this just embodies your beauty.


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