Maybe painting will tear the paper

National Story Challenge 2012 (Organised by the National Library Board) @ River Valley High School

Do you feel better now?
Does the flat of release do just that?
Like a butter knife over toast or the brush over paper,
Paint the sorrow over a facade of disbelief?

Sometimes, I feel like I have failed. I feel like I owe you something, or everything, because if we get down to the nitty gritty, I ruined all of you. I don't question the objective of my telling, and I still don't doubt myself for that moment, for I saw right from wrong and black from white. I just want to know if anybody would blame me for that. Would you blame me?

It feels as if I'm watching my life from the sidelines. Lately, it knots itself up with ease. The haze is thick and the clarity of reality is simply an oxymoron. Several slip knots do just that, but others leave a dead bump, that will stare right back at me in time to come.

My indecisiveness is killing me (Well, at least I decided that it is killing me). If all else is impossible, let this be what can improve on. I don't recall being this restless about my thoughts. I blame the uncertainty of it all. I blame every gush of air that comes with words I utter, for crashing this house of cards.

Previously, my MBIT results were ENFJ. Just recently, I realised I'm an ENTP (even though thinking: 16; feeling: 15). Well, I don't like to be defined by personality tests, if that even works to define, to which I vehemently object. I'd like to think I am a more complex being with full control over my 'feeling' and 'thinking' abilities.

It's amazing to see how one can change for the better in the face of love. I should shut up before I make another comment that could possibly ruin my life. I'm getting high on my thoughts/My mind is not with me today.