the right kind of wrong

i cant help it if I'm helpless every time when I'm where you are
you walk in and my strength walks out the door
say my name and i cant fight it anymore.
i know i should go
but i need your touch just too damn much

Ive resorted to listening to inspirational songs
to inspire and calm my frenzy emotions
its a long shot to calm myself
but at least I'm trying

This is a very random post.
on my very random memories that are flashing across my head,


SIGH
i think too much into things sometimes
i let my thoughts get the better of me
or to say it accurately, it overwhelms me
but i daresay my paranoia is appropriate and acceptable.
i just like everything to go according as planned
if anything screws up, I'll just get affected

i know i used to drive Jody crazy with my paranoid moments.
this was especially evident during the sec 3 camp
where i insanely bugged her if i had everything packed

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I'm in a somewhat lyrical mood now
where everything in my head seems crystal clear
and all so vibrant

when i was on my way to tuition
i thought of an interesting plot for an Utopian world.
its in it's early stages of development
so its not as spectacular as it seems
or maybe it isn't brilliant to begin with
i have no flair in writing
my friends write way better than me

but heck
i write for self expression (:

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'Great news Samy boy! You are big boy now! Big enough to enter elementary street! Now Samy! Head over to the counter and give them your paper of important words to the counter at level one. Remember! It's level one' rasped the paternalistic machine.

'Well, when I enter elementary street, my paper of important words would be paper of particulars instead! Also, it would not remind me again, as if I'm still a preschool boy at preschool street! The nerve to call me Samy boy!' Sam muttered incoherently.

Sam licked his lips nervously, in anticipation of the new street that he will be transferred to.
Whilst walking, Sam replayed the delirious memory of the day he was told that he passed the proficiency test, the test you have to pass to head over to elementary street.

'I no longer have to face signboards that gave the most straightforward directions of places that are outrageously staring at me!' he mused, walking towards the direction of the washroom.

As he walked into the washroom, he shuddered at the simplicity of the words above the washroom, labelled as 'Potty-Area'. He was welcomed by a group of 25 year-olds, chattering away in pre-school language whilst washing their hands.

' You've got Goo on your hands! John's got something gooey on his hands! '
' John's hands are smelly!'

Sam turned to see the two boys teasing their friend, appalled by the language that they are using and counted his lucky stars. He knew he would still be stagnant in that state of development if he had not received letters from his brother on a regular basis. His Aunt Martha, who works at the letter-room would sneak the letters to sam. The letters consisted of vibrant vocabulary that would occupy Sam for hours, enriching him with adjectives that he could never dream of. Sam's older brother, Ken, had changed his name to Kendrick when he went over to Elementary street.
Through his letters, Sam realised that those who did not pass the proficiency test would be sent to the 'work your arms' centre, where they would train them to do work that required brawns and human labour. Kendrick said that construction works in Elementary street was done by middle age pre-schoolers.

Stricken by the memory of Kendrick's letters, Sam was jolted from his deep thoughts.
He absentmindedly washed his hands and exited the 'Potty-Room' quickly.

'i shall change my name to Samuel. Sam is such a pre-school name.'

He took a few deep breaths and approached the counter at level one, anticipating his fate that would soon befall him at Elementary street.

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I shall stop here
cause I need to study Pronto!
I think my story sucks.