Benign

And so I wore a dress. From Asos, Dorothy Perkins or from Topshop. Or you may spot me in the Aldo that you would never splurge on. And yes, I write about fashion. And coincidentally, I am in the line of work where I have to be stuck behind stage and limbering in the crowds of live mannequins flashing smiles that does not corellate with the trajectory of what the heart felt.

I hate none. I like none. It was a numbing session. I prefer to be in neutrality. I see no glam in putting on shoes, waiting to zip bustiers and transferring pecks. I do not despise, I do not anticipate. It is just part of life I am passing.

I hate noise. I seriously hate the buzzing of words. From you, you and you over here, there and there. The thousand words war. I surrendered. I had to. I am just not good enough. I thought of ending it. I always wonder what it feels like. To close the eyes and let loose of all limbs and drop. From 30 storey high. It must be cold. It could also be empty. Very blank.

Perhaps I have mutter one too much than I need to And so much noise reverberating back to me. I should have keep it al in the heart and abide. Abide and agree. It was always a better option.

For now, something is stopping me from looking down the 30 storey. Not now. Perhaps one day. But not now.  Tomorrow I have to face it all over again. I will stop the benign.. hopefully.

But for now, I need to again sit in the toilet and shed some tears..