Rush of blood to the head.

I remember dreaming about mom several days ago. It happened at my aunt's place, but yea, whereabout doesn't really matter here. My mom was some sort of being insulted, which I got no idea why, and the feeling of love to my mom came to me suddenly, and it was really strong at that time. Then I hugged her and cried like a small child in her lap. It felt so comfortable. I was sobbing in sleep and I woke up that morning, right after the dream, with sobs and tears. Hah. I love sobbing in sleep. And I want that dream again. Despite of her not-so-lovely attitude, I still love her and how I hope that she could hold me in her arms, in this real life.

Mother's Day means nothing to me. I love her every single day.

My heart beats hard. Blood rushes from it, to the head, to the lungs, and back to the heart. My head feels like it's gonna burst. Feel like fainting, going to pass out. That's what happens when I move or get up suddenly from my quiet state.

Judgement Days

As you can see, it's Friday. I love these Friday, Saturday, and plus a Sunday for it's gonna be a public holiday for Wesak, I think. But there's one thing that makes these school-off days mean nothing, but a waiting to sit in living hell, interrogated by reaper's questions. Hell, totally. Midyear exam, that's it. It kills. Like what I've been thru' since, ever, yea, I'll go to the battlefield, without shield, unprepared.
Hah. Dead or alive.

Save me,
Your warm hands break right thru' me,
I don't care how you do it,
But please stay,
I've been waiting for you.

Red scratch. A declaration.

I go to the party,
Where everyone is in their fancy dresses;
Striking and attracting,
I'm just in my bleached shirt.

I see everyone is happy;
Enjoying food,
Having warm and annoying chat,
I'm just quiet, tight to myself.

They all look at me,
As if I'm an inmate,
Some don't ignore me,
Some don't notice me at all.

I stand at the corner,
Cornered by their ignorance,
And I'm at peaceful,
A little lonely I don't hate.

-Adi Dassler, May Day

Mechanical Arms

Controlled by something.
Uh. 9 AM, mom woke me; aunt needed me to help her to move furnitures. Ah. They lived in quarters before and are going to move into their new house. Luckily, their unit is just on the first level. Carried a washing-machine, refridgerator, few cupboards, bed, and it wore me out. Weak and powerless. I can't raise my arms high for more than 3 secs. They're trembling, shaking inside. I won't be helping tomorrow. Let those still-sleeping-at-10 cousins get their part done. Hell. It's Labour Day today and I was an imported worker.
And I can't stop thinking about that girl, missing.