Tuesday, February 05, 2013, 3:51 am Β·
ghost stories
ghost stories
nothing scary. dont worry.
It's just that, lately, ever since I've become stuck at home attending to my ailed legs, there are voices in my head. voices, not of dreams or daydreams. rather, voices of persons. people. characters, actually. and I... actually voice them all out. there a couple of repeated quotes, too.
"Why are we afraid?" "What else is there to lose?"
"If this cant be, then nothing will ever be. I am no ghost. Im just another being. You. Can. See. Me."
It's crazy. All these thoughts in my head. I feel like Im brought back to ten years ago, where the younger sister and I had played make belief once before. We had all these toys, dolls and figurines. Acting out the scenes and vocalizing impromptu scripts, trying to come up with an entertaining show to spare our childhood days. I still remember that one particular time when someone came to visit.. was it our cousin?.. but someone came to visit. We didnt come out to greet at all. They(?) peered into our room and saw/heard us playing make believe. The younger sister loves making up characters that are usually the fierce-gentle kind. Mine were more adventurous, bombastic and ridiculous, really. I recalled standing infront of the fan with a waist-length haired Barbie, trying to re-enact a heartbreaking scene with wind blowing all over her face and the younger sister would come up with her hero character and we'd do some diving actions with our hands full of toys and dolls.
Suddenly, Im out of toys. Yet, the voices from the past, all these characters, are back. Alive. Coming at me. To haunt me.
But Im not afraid. I dont want to be afraid of a precious routine that was practised in my childhood for years. Until we reached Pandemonium. So here I am, infront of Larry, at 3:30AM, trying to type down, to ground all my thoughts. Ive been meaning to write, but Ive been too occupied with things that, well, never necessarily a waste of my 6months but still enough to make me dread looking back. As of 4th Feb, Ive slowly picked up my pen and tablet once again. Slowly, Im sure, I'll awaken my artisans again.
For now, the childhood fragrances and feels, even the old habits, are coming back. I feel.. like a kid again. And these ghost stories wont haunt me. I will make the haunting instead.. into my own plots.
It's just that, lately, ever since I've become stuck at home attending to my ailed legs, there are voices in my head. voices, not of dreams or daydreams. rather, voices of persons. people. characters, actually. and I... actually voice them all out. there a couple of repeated quotes, too.
"Why are we afraid?" "What else is there to lose?"
"If this cant be, then nothing will ever be. I am no ghost. Im just another being. You. Can. See. Me."
It's crazy. All these thoughts in my head. I feel like Im brought back to ten years ago, where the younger sister and I had played make belief once before. We had all these toys, dolls and figurines. Acting out the scenes and vocalizing impromptu scripts, trying to come up with an entertaining show to spare our childhood days. I still remember that one particular time when someone came to visit.. was it our cousin?.. but someone came to visit. We didnt come out to greet at all. They(?) peered into our room and saw/heard us playing make believe. The younger sister loves making up characters that are usually the fierce-gentle kind. Mine were more adventurous, bombastic and ridiculous, really. I recalled standing infront of the fan with a waist-length haired Barbie, trying to re-enact a heartbreaking scene with wind blowing all over her face and the younger sister would come up with her hero character and we'd do some diving actions with our hands full of toys and dolls.
Suddenly, Im out of toys. Yet, the voices from the past, all these characters, are back. Alive. Coming at me. To haunt me.
But Im not afraid. I dont want to be afraid of a precious routine that was practised in my childhood for years. Until we reached Pandemonium. So here I am, infront of Larry, at 3:30AM, trying to type down, to ground all my thoughts. Ive been meaning to write, but Ive been too occupied with things that, well, never necessarily a waste of my 6months but still enough to make me dread looking back. As of 4th Feb, Ive slowly picked up my pen and tablet once again. Slowly, Im sure, I'll awaken my artisans again.
For now, the childhood fragrances and feels, even the old habits, are coming back. I feel.. like a kid again. And these ghost stories wont haunt me. I will make the haunting instead.. into my own plots.
Labels: childhood, fah says, massive internal mind-spam in progress, reminiscing in the golden reverie
.