As I sit here scrambling my mind on what to write, I notice the harsh line (well, lines) of my sheets. Bed, to be exact. I washed it yesterday after only using it once and hung it near my curtain-shut windows which I opened only for awhile during the day today.
On my floor to my right, I see an empty bowl with what used to be two full bodies of corn previously stripped nude by my fingers. Most people eat corn with their mouth, enjoying the juices that corn has to offer and carefully use their nails to pick out any corn skin stuck in their teeth (don’t cringe, you know you did it too), but I on the other hand, as weird as this is (or probably not), prefer to pluck it one by one – or three, perhaps four – and gather it in my empty container.
My black RM99 phone is beside the bowl, looking at me, like it was sad or something. Angry perhaps? I feel its piercing eyes which in this case is represented by its screen, looking at me asking me why I did not use it to its full potential recently. That is true. I barely touch my phone these days. Even if I did, it’s mostly to reply a text or to receive a phone call. I barely start anything at all.
As I sit on the edge of my bed, hunching down on my laptop which I am currently balancing on my stool, I wonder if I could keep writing this piece and make it seemed like it is the most interesting piece I have ever written. Perhaps, I can, with a little make believe.
Everyone should have a make believe talent and writing is mine.
I honestly am not sure where this is going so I will stop for now. Good night.