I dont know what to call it .. but came across it in my copy of Wren & Martin's .. I estimate it to have been written in early 2006 ..
"Three years have passed and I've written nothing but fiction. Life just seems to have been stalled in that field sometimes, only to be caught back by reality. I want to write non-fiction but don't know where to start. There are so many things to tell; So many people to talk about; the many relationships made, broken; the endless chain of events - Yet so less words to express - success, grief, disbelief, unaccepted failure, surprise, despair, reflection, delusion, heartbreak (not exactly) and what not ?
Pivoted, I don't even know what to do to set things right. Things aren't so messed up as they appear to be.
The television, i love it dearly, yet long to hate it. I watch it; yet am not addicted to it; like the tinge of lemon remaining on the tongue - what do i mean ?
I quite don't know what relations am building. Exempt love. the girls at my school, the teachers, OMG !! I've always been the object of curiosity, so it isn't so strange when teachers stare at me, suspect etc me and girls like, hate, envy and admire me. But sometimes, it's too much to take, but as it sinks in, i begin to enjoy what not all get to enjoy. I don't know if i'm humorous but i'm talented; It's eccentric for me, there has not been a day when I was one of the crowd, i want to experience getting lost in a mob; but still don't want to, who wants to let go of attention ?
Delusion is the new dimension; My friend sharing my interests has begun back-biting; dreadful, yet i like her dearly. I let go of all things easily, but to forget it all is difficult. It's so mysterious and yet alluring and musical. My, my heart gets heavier as i write this, as if air were lighter than feelings. the problem is, I can't feel these at all times, some kind of amnesia"
I do not know how / where i wrote it ..