Okay, so you enjoy random rants and random stories? Your butt must have found itself a comfortable computer chair because you've gotten washed off into this uncharted, queer, dark and inexplicable place of conscious dreams--which is just perfect for the queer, dark and inexplicable mind like yours! However you find these rugged pages of digital awesomeness, I'd be happy to receive your comments. Or get to know you, even.
Abuse the nonsense.
I need some therapy.
February 14, 2010I am absolutely pissed/depressed right now.
I have decided to stop The Dream Fish. Because I hate it, I sentence it to hell and wish to never see it again.
That’s a final decision. And if you liked that story, I apologise. I guess you’ll just have to imagine what happens to Nathan, his friends and his fish in the end. I’m sorry. I really can’t write it anymore in this condition.
Okay, I lied. I loved that story. But I really don’t want to write and see it anymore. I really am sorry.
I have a confession to make.
I am such a selfish person. I take away someone else’s happiness and even if it takes away mine too, I’d still banish it in my spite. I don’t know. I need sometime for myself again. There’s always something wrong with how I interact with others. Or worse, maybe there’s just something wrong with me.
You can’t imagine how much I hate myself right now. I am obsessed with perfection, I always feel as if I need to correct every single flaw I have. Here’s something to really piss you off, knowing that someone thinks it’s stupid that I hate myself makes me hate myself even more because that’s another flaw I have.
I don’t know if I can even talk to any of my friends right now. I need to think of a new way of how to approach them because I always end up getting hurt in the end because of them. And I get hurt even more knowing they don’t really give a care that I got hurt because it just proves that I made a mistake and have chosen my friends wrong.
I don’t know! Is this a really bad psychiatric problem? Hay.
By the way, I’ve been having really weird dreams lately.
I dreamt that I was a murderer and was the one who sent people to hell. And there was this woman I killed brutally in a peaceful neighbourhood. And I put her mutilated head on the toilet lid.
I also dreamt that there was a giant who hunted for us tiny humans to eat as if we were rats. My dreams were very graphic, the giant would tear people in half and chew the skulls and the blood would squirt all over the place and stuff. We humans also used Baygon to fight the giant. Weird, right?
I need some therapy. I am so depressed. Help.
Coastal City: The Dream Fish Part VII
February 7, 2010It’s ze series of boredom! Am I losing my touch? Agh. This one is very short, it’s just around 600 words. And not much stuff happened here. Disappointing… I know. *dies* BTW my editor isn’t done proofreading this. Wow, I have an editor?! I just have a hyper urge to post something… right now.
To be edited next time!
Twenty minutes ago.
Even when Coastal City was still rural, walking alone in its dimly-lit streets was unsafe, especially during the winter when people preferred to stay at home. The less the tourists are, the less the witnesses to crime.
But Calais was a local. She knew almost everyone. She firmly repeated to herself that no one would harm her; that she was absolutely invincible in their neighbourhood.
She was wrong.
She reached home, all the lights were out. She felt the insides of her pockets for the keys, but there was nothing in her pockets. Perhaps she left them at Halvar’s hospital room? She couldn’t recall.
She checked the windows to see if she could break into their own house. They were all locked. She could wait outside of their house until her mother came… but all of the sudden, it started to rain heavily.
“Crap!” she lamented.
She ran out to the side of the street with hands tucked in her concave armpits. Not long after, she was waving frantically at a taxi.
Thirteen minutes ago.
She was where she wanted to go. But before she could even check her pockets, it came to her again—there was nothing in them.
“Could you wait, sir? I gotta get some money.” she told the taxi driver hurriedly and the driver nodded kindly.
She ran into Nathan’s house, not even knocking. She approached the door to his room, the only room that seemed to have lights on. She was oblivious to the intensified illumination of the floor in front of the open door. There was only one shadow of a person.
“Hey Nathan, do you have an extra—”
…
Halvar’s phone rang. It was Calais.
“Halvar, you will not believe what I just saw.”
“What did you see?”
Lucie looked down on her bowl. The smell of the noodles was floating in the steam and the vegetables looked like shells in the fine yellow sand of the coast. The chopsticks were metal—she didn’t know how to use them. The bowl was painted black and orange, it seemed to be made out of clay.
Halvar was still talking on the phone. Lucie thought, sometimes he’s just annoying. He seemed to be insensible all time. She imagined him pulling his hair or snatching his phone and throwing it into his bowl but that was it, imagining.
Lucie was his best friend. Of course she was. Nathan, despite being three years Halvar’s junior, thought more maturely than him most of the time. Calais was, well, Calais never was, of course. Calais would never understand him as Lucie would. Lucie was patient. Fragile, but patient. Lucie was timeless, she was infinitely there. Why, when Halvar gets wounded or acts differently, would Nathan or Calais understand? No, Lucie would. Halvar would talk to Lucie. Not them.
“Okay… Yea, yea, I know… Look, I gotta go. Congratulate the scumbag for me, okay? Uh… Same to you.”
Call ended.
“Same to you?”
“What?”
“That’s lame, Halvar.”
“Well, that’s me. Mister Lame.” He then sipped his hot tea.
“Lousy, very lousy. You know, something tells me you’re not even ready for that kind of stuff yet.”
He almost chocked on his tea. He coughed a couple of times and gathered his words. “Have you been talking to Calais?”
“No. Why would I talk to your girlfriend?”
“Oooh… Jealous.”
This time Lucie finally raised her voice on him. “What! You know what? You’re really insensitive sometimes! I hate you so much!”
Lucie crossed her arms and looked down. Halvar just stared at her.
“I’m sorry.”
She said nothing.
“I think I might not be ready for it, too. Everything happened too fast. I don’t know what happened to me.”
She looked up at him.
Halvar hold up his pinky and said “Uhm, best friends forever again?”
“You’re so gay.” And she wrapped her pinky around his.



