moments of my other lives.

it is a poetess' sickness. sometimes when i am reading what i have written i almost feel embarassed for myself, stupid girl how can you just bare your heart in ways so naked, or be so indulged in your own sentiments? but it takes certain self-indulgence to be a writer. we are our own favourite readers.

but these are moments of my other lives. i would have lived 17 different lives in a lifetime, just to make sure that i haven't missed anything dear. just to make sure that i have lived the right lives. i secretly think it doesn't matter how reality is, as long as i am content with my being, and my romance is still alive, at the very least on my mind. afterall i am not a scientist.

i honestly belong only to a world constructed with words, living with logics that are often viewed as chaos. but chaos make all possibilities work. i will never be tidy.

but these are merely moments of my other lives.