the monochrome rainbow

whatever is happening in that metal box is not your life. did it not occur to you, that you are not getting those content in your life should all you do is to be awed by that little box for the whole day? you have reached a stage of obsession in those make-believe lives of another man that is written by certain men-gods, who define every act and every speech and you worship them so. so much that, you set up a time altar for them, one after another.

i come to remind you that in your life, no man a god. so why do you still fantasize that someone would be able to write the script of your life just the way you want it? this is the real world, you are the hand that writes your act and all the words that you know are: to allow the real life to slip away every second and squander it on the transformation of the million of pixels in that metal box. every page has got no twist. if your play ever made it to the screen, you will be weeping for the death of your life thats so filled with boredom and predictability.

well, don't get all teary. you do have one commendable point, you do your role perfectly, just the way i have written in my play; one of the many whose life is as still as the powerless metal box that i don't even bother myself with anymore.



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3 more days, all will come to an end. gonna get some cheap thrill from tearing up the books like a madman at home. (and i will probably see another madman screaming at me, what in the hell am i doing.) yea.

can't wait for march. all the gatherings. and april. start work (((:

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