part ten of endless scribbling.

Posting old snippets from notepad because no matter how bad it gets, I have to keep this ship afloat.

Rather a hot day, though I sleep in for three hours more.

I like days like this.

You're just sitting there and the room is ornamented golden by swift beams of sunlight. And you just feel alive thinking about the million things you wanna do or you could do.

Augusts here are wet but hot. But there's always a decent amount of breeze that passes by occasionally.

I stare into the fiber flower vase with fake flowers and fake leaves sitting there. It doesn't make any rustling sound. It doesn't even care to move with the occasional wind. It's like, "Hey, why do I have to be original in this fake world".

I'm wearing nothing but boxers. Lying beside the window, supported by two pillows with green floral printed covers. Holding 'The Great Gatsby' paperback on one hand and a pencil, which has been with me since forever on the other hand.

I remind myself of 'Elio' from 'Call me by your name'. And for some reason that makes me feel good. A smile appears on the corner of my face.

I wonder what it would've been like if I was gay. Would I have found my Oliver?

The things I wonder.

I feel like I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Every time I watch a movie set in the 70s or read a book from the victorian era, I'm like,

Just forty or fifty years late and 7851 Kilometers far.

Life.

Sayonara.

***

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