Another day with no goals or clear directions of life. I agree, quite depressing to start a sentence. This isn't exactly enthusiastic. It must change, of course, for the better.
Exciting moments, beautiful people, beautiful days, I just can't fit in. It is an illusion for me, a dream I partake with these fantasy characters. I see no directions, I feel no hopes, or even worse, I lost my faith. I need simplicities, yet with meanings and care.
"Ada, It must stop!”, I remained silent as she finished complaining. It is not her fault, her world is different than mine. She was a beautiful woman, but living a dream of impractical sceneries and blue sky wonders. So unrealistic, so irritating, so unlike me…
The leaves are still falling, yellow, brown, or a mixture of both, performing their greatest strength to maintain their shape and size, quite elegant, nothing can compare to such beautiful and colorful creatures. I am in awe of nature, in awe of this place. Independence has captured my soul. No existence can alter that unless it is wanted otherwise. I enjoy these moments, I enjoy this life, I don't like to call it poetic because it is not and I am not. I call it silence with a composition of time. Let it be, let my mute moments tick tock for a few seconds then I'm back to reality. Debate or not, it is not worth it.
"Food is ready…", she spoke while stirring up the soup. I need five more minutes, another five to conclude these thoughts. She's not speaking and I’m thinking faster than usual, I wrapped up the remaining and fled straight to the kitchen. Who must that be on the sidewalk? Geisha, beautiful and intelligent, the opposite sex would kill each other to walk besides her. Why so quiet standing in a group of five? Another cigarette? She needs to quit...
Square Root, a good friend, very handsome, very bright, very perfect. Geisha should meet Square, combination of beauty and intelligence, this is what I call a perfect square. Cube Root, smiling to myself when thinking of him, very odd man, impressive mind, a bit complicated now and then, however, quite charming. “ADA! THE WATER IS BOILING!”, great, another bad mojo. I should prepare to gulp down more lectures about responsibility and maturity from mother.
Speeding 75, letter on table, I am jetting like an airplane in the sky.
I see black, you see white. I turn left, you turn right. I believe in nothing, you believe in something. I am hopeless, you are hopeful. I believe in dark clouds, you believe in blue skies, but somehow, our lives are connected silently. My dearest mother, Happy Mother’s Day and I love you…
Your daughter, Ada 95
Random picture for this post.
