HappyLand

I know I want to say something, Something very profound, intimate. Something that will unburden me, Something that will keep me from murdering myself. But...but I cannot trace the letters, words, and sentences. As if they had left my mind, leaving a lingering sense of void. My Inner-void made my tongue rigid, Hence, my silence.    

(draft) Twenty one O twenty one!  O blessed numeral, you bring me midst of ceaseless fun made me desire a funeral! half spent in innocence half in ignorance  other half in losing sense and the rest getting back 

My morning begins with a daze in slumber when the clocks  second hand running minute hand jogging and hour stand still at ten Hunger, now a baby monster, tugs my body up and out of the bed I surrender, I brush, I pee, I eat I watch (Cinema) I waste (Time) the clock  Tick, Tock! Morning ends,  Noon says hello, both are the same fellow, Afternoon and Evening waves their hand at me I return the courtesy Nights fall I fall, All fall I sleep (shallow) I dream (of death) until... (Friday, Jan 19, 1:44:44 am) 

(Draft) Day 01 31-12-23 I have no idea how I will write the story of “Fish”. I have only the concept of the story but not the mechanics, the structure, character and logic (believable quality). And I feel stupid about it. I guess that is a staple feeling for those who are not genius like HER , such imaginative, descriptive woman, every time my eyes locate her, this thought comes rushing: she is the perfect opposite of me. Is it because she was born at the same year and date as me? I don’t know. What I do know is, she is a perfect version of me. She is a Da Vinci, I am a doodler She is beautiful, and I am me Her Hand-writing is Art in itself , where mine is barely readable What I am trying to say is, she is the one who is supposed to write and illustrate this kind of story because it suits her. She is the one who is supposed to worry about how to conjure an event out of thin air, and make the story sense, not ME! I am just an insect. I am not supposed to worry about this hi...

1. First day  

(Draft)   (1)     21/10/23 Lost control of the Felus-is- not-plaizar . The artificial intelligence pilot is no longer active. Controls are busted due to radiation. It is no longer a viable option to try to save myself. The ship has deviated from its trajectory and now heading towards a planet full of N 2 O. The long-awaited departure of my soul is imminent. I stare at the planet even though there is nothing to look at. As if it is a magician's trick. It is there but is it there? Sun’s reflection makes a glare on its surface. How beautiful, I say. I remember, I used the word when I gawked at the spectacle of a barrage of rockets leaving our home planet when I was a teenager, which was twenty-one years ago. And I remember, following the word, I said that, one day I will be a pilot. Following my sentence, family, and relatives around me would break into laughter and say the following words, “But you don’t even know the difference between ‘Neuro-resonance’ and ‘Quant...