This is not the end.
It's not the beginning.
It's not even the beginning of the end.
Sorry to say,
but you're stuck in the middle.
But the middle's not a bad place to be.
You learn what you didn't know
In the beginning, and you find the skills you need to get to the end.
It's where you learn
From your mistakes
And meet your friends.
The ones who make everything worth it. So don't feel stuck.
And don't be so anxious to get to the end. You never know. It might ****.

Here I am sitting,
Wondering and wandering through my mind,
The life I want and could have had,
If only this pandemic did not arrived.

Im feeling sad deep inside,
Of not being satisfied of the life I have,
I am not here to get roasted,
Though I know I deserved it.

I know I am fortunate from most others,
I know I am acting so insensitive,
I have choose to be optimistic almost all the time,
But I choose to be honest just this time.

I observed you a lot,
I hope I could have understood you once!

I give you permission
to eavesdrop on my mind.
Because my words are stuck
in prison feeling confined.
I want to spill it all out
but that’s not how my brain is designed.
So please
eavesdrop on my mind
And help me decipher
the secrets being intertwined.

****.
I'm locked in again
Not paralysed but stuck.
Not sure what to do.
Each task appears barbed
Like it will pierce my heart.
I could make a piece of jewellery
Write my story
Make an animation
Or tidy up?
Any would do...
But instead I sit here
Not sure how to proceed.
It's like the other things that I woudn't do
Stop me doing any of the other things that I could do.
D-E-C-I-D-E from the latin
"Decidere"
To cut off!
To seperate!

Okay, jewellery it is,
I will check the van...

Your leaves go away every fall,
maybe all your petals are already gone
and you never felt so alone but
always remember that it
isn't permanent at all.
Seasons change and
people do
too.
- reminders.

my body is leaden
with the weight of my sins
heavy and burdensome

a persistent reminder
of wrongs long past and yet are
impossible to atone

looming overhead like rain clouds
full to bursting with painful thoughts
brimming with more tears to be shed

perhaps it does not linger so much
above as it does below our feet
like black sticky tar or deep quick sand

every step forward is taken in vain
serving only to drain us completely
of what hope we might have possessed