I got up from my bed after a long chat with a mate-- classmate(dont want to give you the wrong impression of me having close friends or something) (not that Im demanding to prove that I'm messed up and want your pity, no, Im way past that attitude, I dont need to look for something to feel sorry for myself, its stupid blahhhhh). She left my house and I hurried out behind her wearing my train' shorts and my big ugly Saucony shoes. Tip toeing all the way to the back of a silver car, I settled in a big breath of freshness before I took off into the wind of my own jog , onto the first of my 3 laps. Perhaps, the air that gashed like rocking beverage in a glass around in my lungs was not 100% percent oxygen. It doesn't feel natural. I came to that thought a while back, I mean, breathing is almost unbearably hard while running and maybe, just maybe, when I run a wave of synthetic oxygen is rushed into my lungs which makes my side ache.
When I run, I try to feel that cheesy moment every movie is blabbing about, how it makes the star think and you know, you sure know, that 'run' that makes everything clear and crystal. Yesterday. I tried to see how my sorrow was being converted into one of those striking moments but I'm pretty sure all that got converted were some body fat. Which could never harm, right?
To be frank (1) , yesterdays run was for exercise purposes only, but while running the first lap I was thinking about how I should be feeling and the times where I went running because I was furious with life and people. this is where 'to be frank (2) ' comes up, to the movie- tricking -people -system's defense, running does help me clear my head and come back home drained of "ziftogenes" (my dad's word for anger genes, yes he's quite something). And yesterday , yesterday made me feel proud because I never do sports, and to be frank (3) I want to be fit as a bee sting for my upcoming trip to Austria and Germany in two weeks, is that too much for a boy to ask? In the making of this exercising 2 kg have fallen off my shape of shapes. pumphh.
the chain of events is quite confusing but here is, like, a glimpse of what happened later that night: I got home. checked my tomato- i mean , my face in the mirror, smiled at the site of fresh sweat , hopped in the shower, I guess I had a shower and got something on while still stinging with wet drops of freshness. Blow dried my personality with witty thoughts and plunged my feet with a pair of black leather lace up boots . I went out and walked slowly. I had a bag in my hands, an orange grocery bag my mom got, occupied by a blue toothbrush a sweater and a book Ive been reading (anybody heard of the 'someone to run with?' book, wow no kidding Im so obsessed with running lately?!/.) . I dont like the two people Im supposedly attached to socially, they are not my friends and I hate being with them but that night I thought I'd better get social with the kids, there were some new ones in the shut library area. For an hour or so the socializing was bearable, I had a nice chat with a girl and well that was that. Swirl of drums. smoking my own thoughts.
I had a nightmare about lice looking like nuts and those cutie-seeds you put in your salad , like flower seeds, it was unbearable I totally freaked out. I swear. This is how messed up my mind is.
Mat.
p.s
this is kind of beautiful- I thought of it myself:
"scanned and perfumed from her own diaries."
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