There is this inexplicable comfort in hiding beneath the bedsheets. Just sitting on the bed, back against the bedsheet, with the entire bedsheet covering the head, and the entire being. It gives me a warped sense of security, being underneath and hidden. Somewhat like how a "transparent cloak" gives a child this sense of control and ease. Well, then the sheets must be my comfort zone. I always thought that things you do as a child always has this soft spot inside you. That no matter how old and mature the rational brain has grown, the little kiddy streak will still remain inside. Jumping in glee when the streaks of innocence comes out. Makes me feel so secure under the sheets with my kiddy checkered pillow, kiddy ty stuffed toys, and the pink pillow that Sb gave me during my 17th birthday. All squashed with me under the sheets. Then I will hug each kiddy toy, than put them back at the same spot. Then somehow it makes me feel better. It seems like a false sense of security I am fooling myself with. Cause life isn't all about living under the sheets of comfort, and who likes discomfort anyways, but we just gotta face it. There is so much going around about being strong, enduring and determined. Its hard really. But nobody wants to hear whining and complains and what nots. Whats with burdening someone else with your own problems and expect someone else to understand and emphatise. It seems to me that the zones and districts of comfort are drawn pretty clearly. So i would prefer not to talk about it. Talking less doesnt mean less pain I suppose, it means like hahah..dunno how to say? And theres a shitload of work to be done next week, whats the point of completing these. But its ok. I want my degree so I shall do it. Anyways, it saps a lot of energy in getting pissed over anyone, or even thinking why things happen as such, yada yada yada. Bochap these little frazzling ditties makes things a little straighter and neater. Maybe thats why people need to blog. To let off some steam. Reconnect with yourself and straighten some thoughts. I am tired of being tired, lost whilst trying to find the lost. Methinks the room is cleaner cause I vacuumed it a while ago, and I probably vacuumed a soul in as well. Emotions are darn cheap arent they. So no one gives a shit, or maybe they do give a little piss at it, laugh it as a fatassed joke, twiddle it with their fingers, run it through their fingers, and delve one swift kick at it, which sends it flying straight in the air and into the dustbin. Well, you believe you can fly right? jolly well believe it, cause many can send you a-flying in the air on-the-wings-of-love. Up and above the clouds, the only way to fly....gee. So if most don't give a shit, hmmm..like why should I! Kick you aside then you know.