I have made promises to people that I can never fulfill because of the fact that their souls are no longer here. Sometimes I wish I could turn back time just to be around them a little longer; to be able to touch their hands again and tell them, "I'm here." I know it is not mine or anyone's fault but I can't help asking for forgiveness from those who aren't here any longer. I hear no replies, no acceptance of my apologies. I have a pain that I carry with me. I know I'm not the only one who has these feelings or burdens as some would say but I learned that people deal in different ways; I have yet to perfect my method of dealing.
I know that what I feel is temporary but temporary at this moment is forever. It's like lying down on your back while feeling a rock pushing into your spine, the ceiling is blank and yet you know there's something there; piercing wickedness into your eyes through your eyelids. The weight that pushes down on your chest while you sleep, demons of your guilt; punishment for all your wrongs. It almost sounds as if I'm creating a religious metaphor. Believe me you that it is not my intention to do so.
I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's depressing.
I woke up this morning to a phonecall from America. I didn't know who the number belonged to but when I picked it up, the introduction was clear. PayPal. It is the first time that I ever got a call from them after trying to get the limit off my account. It's happened before, the limits but usually they send me an E-mail stating that I've been given full access to my account again. The call really surprised me. Tell you what, a hypnotizing American accent made me smile. It's not that it was funny or anything of the sort. More towards the I haven't heard that type of accent for a while kind of smile.
It's kind of pathetic that I haven't been blogging for a while. I blame it on my moods and my incredibly small room. I wonder if I could move my bedroom to the living room? I don't think that's possible at all. My room is like a broom cupboard. You could assemble a double bed in there. Keyword: Assemble. You try to slip a double bed in there and your stuck in the doorway forever. I sleep on the floor so I could fold the matterss and make space! Maybe I should have bought a proper futon then instead of actually buying a foldable mattress. It would have been easier to pack away. Or maybe asked for a single bed last time. More storage space especially if I could slip things under the bed.
Sigh, half a year left before I end my academic year here in Winchester School of Art. I don't feel sad. I don't feel satisfied, yet. I feel angry. I feel tired. What did I do here? Unlike other people who have developed their skills since they came here, I was stuck in the mud. I still am. Doesn't matter now. I'll see what I can do before the end of the school year. Let's see how much I can do. I realized that every time I go to an institution, I start questioning about my life more than when I'm not. Not in a good way either. I truly believe I am not a school type of person. I know someone who received more than three scholarships to do three three-year Bachelors degree courses, two Masters degree course; and he told me that he only did it because he doesn't want to work and would rather study. I'm not like that. I don't want to waste my life learning extensively about one subject through exams. It's like what Albert Einstein said,
"Never memorize something that you can look up."
or something of the like.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm losing myself. Fading away. I feel like I'm not being true to myself. I guess that's me being dramatically melancholic. I wonder if every single person goes through this... affliction.
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