My Dear we're slow dancing in a burning room
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Sunday, September 12, 2010, 9:58 AM
It started in my stomach. A slight discomfort or a sharp jolt, almost as if someone has just stuck a 10-inch blade through your mid-riff. Pain. It turns into pain. Like a thousand red ants finding their way into your intestines and trying to tear your insides apart into a million bite-sized pieces. It grows like a skyscraper right before my eyes, the pain gets more intense. I try to convince myself that it's nothing, i'm the man with the iron stomach. How in the hell can anything happen to pure steel? I laugh it off and reach for my bottle of water across my desk. And then, more pain. Hits my arm like a bullet. A chain of bullets. Penetrating into my arms at fist then slowly into the rest of my body. My muscles spasm slightly as i struggle to regain control of myself on my chair. Almost instantly, that feeling arrives. Something i have never felt for years. I rush to the kitchen and grab a pail, messily stuffing a plastic bag inside it to try and cover up for what is about to happen. Useless. I grip the sides of the blue plastic pail and throw out my dinner. I feel like the merlion on a good day. My upchuck flies from my mouth like beam of light. I try to stop it. I try to hold back my vomit but my muscles disobey me. This goes on until i taste bile. The horrid bitterness of my insides greets my tastebuds like a splash of ice-cold water on the face of a new-born child. At last, my body gives up. There cannot possible be anything more inside my stomach that i can hurl. Sweat pouring down my face, soaking my shirt, i feel colder than ever. My head spins uncontrollably. I feel like a snake with a hundred snake charmers all around me playing a hundred different twisted tunes swaying my head in different directions. I feel cold, then i feel hot. I bury myself under my blankets and stare at my ceiling. My sense start to turn against me. With fevers come nightmares, something that hasn't changed since i was a child. Everything around me starts to feel fearsome. The slow sweeping of a broom brush outside my door turns into the growl of a monster. The soft hum of my air-con turns into the heavy breathing of a phantom menace. I close my eyes but i still see. Images of war, hate, blood, death. Screaming, shouting, cursing all around me. My friends and family hold spears and shields, daggers and knives in some medieval fight to the death. But more real than any movie can fantasize. Blood spits from the open wounds of my friends. You, running with a basket of fruit drop and roll down a hill with a knife sticking out from your neck. I scream but no one seems to hear me. I jump about wildly but no one seems to feel me. I pull a knife out of my primary school teacher's chest and stare at the blood turning into ants. My vision stops in a freeze frame and nothing else seems coherent. I put the knife gently into my stomach and pull it out in the most serene way possible. The sharp pain hits me and i wake up. Calm. Silence. My room feels the same way it always does. I stare down at my snow-white palms, my veins blue like the ocean stick out as a reminder that i'm only human. I pick up my phone and dial her number but she does not pick up. I leave a voice mail. "Mom, where are you? I miss you please come home soon."
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Vanity isn't a sin, a little narcissm wouldn't hurt.
The World would be a much lesser place without corndogs and pizzas.
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Andrew. Music. Food. People. What more could you possibly want?
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One day when i wake up and find the motive and time to link anybody, i'll let you know.
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An accidentality production
Inspiration from DancingSheep & BONBON:D
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