I Need To Learn
..how to let things go.
I don't think I lost it lost it yesterday, but I realised it was missing yesterday.
I need to learn how to let things go.
When realisation dawned (and it dawned like a hammer crushing my left testicle), it sent me into a chinese tea-charged frenzy.
I turned the whole house upside down.
Looked everywhere. I mean everywhere.
Maybe I left it in the car - shook the whole car down, floormats, even took out the spare tyre (it could've slipped into them small crevices yeah, could've).
Maybe I threw it into my wardrobe - took out every single t-shirt to make sure it wasn't in between any of 'em.
Maybe lovely huggable mummy stashed it away somewhere to keep it safe - fuck it then, could be anywhere. Looked in the store, looked in the master, looked everyfuckingwhere.
Maybe it fell under a couch, the TV, my lazy chair - that was me moving every piece of furniture which could be moved.
And that wasn't the whole story. That was barely half of it.
Man I really have to learn to let things go.
It's not really the attachment I have for the pen, it's not even how much it's worth.
Well, maybe a little.
But I'm not one to lose things! At least I'd like to think I'm not.
People who lose things are.. losers. I don't want to be a loser - literally or not.
Ho ho ho.
Got up this morning, looked everywhere again. For like the sixty-seventh time.
Even dreamt about it. Woke me up from my afternoon nap. I dreamt I had found it stashed in some drawer somewhere.
Realised it was a dream.. proceeded to go like FUCK TIU TIU TIU CIBAINESSSS.
The stupid thing is, I don't really have the time to waste looking for a pen.
My exams are tomorrow. No need for luck, baby - I'm way past that.
The pen belonged to the farmer. He gave it to me when he got a cooler, blinger one.
Losing it made me think childish thoughts, like how I didn't really like it in the first place anyway - there were gold accents on it, and I hate gold. Hate hate hate gold.
Plus the farmer dropped it or something sometime back, and if you look really really carefully under the light, there's this hairline crack that runs along the cap.
If you look really really really carefully.
Defense mechanism? Defence schwefense. Ugh.
Bloody hell I'm heartbroken.
And it's all because of a pen. My pen.
You know in certain parts of the world, they'd call me insane.
I need to learn how to let things go.
I don't think I lost it lost it yesterday, but I realised it was missing yesterday.
I need to learn how to let things go.
When realisation dawned (and it dawned like a hammer crushing my left testicle), it sent me into a chinese tea-charged frenzy.
I turned the whole house upside down.
Looked everywhere. I mean everywhere.
Maybe I left it in the car - shook the whole car down, floormats, even took out the spare tyre (it could've slipped into them small crevices yeah, could've).
Maybe I threw it into my wardrobe - took out every single t-shirt to make sure it wasn't in between any of 'em.
Maybe lovely huggable mummy stashed it away somewhere to keep it safe - fuck it then, could be anywhere. Looked in the store, looked in the master, looked everyfuckingwhere.
Maybe it fell under a couch, the TV, my lazy chair - that was me moving every piece of furniture which could be moved.
And that wasn't the whole story. That was barely half of it.
Man I really have to learn to let things go.
It's not really the attachment I have for the pen, it's not even how much it's worth.
Well, maybe a little.
But I'm not one to lose things! At least I'd like to think I'm not.
People who lose things are.. losers. I don't want to be a loser - literally or not.
Ho ho ho.
Got up this morning, looked everywhere again. For like the sixty-seventh time.
Even dreamt about it. Woke me up from my afternoon nap. I dreamt I had found it stashed in some drawer somewhere.
Realised it was a dream.. proceeded to go like FUCK TIU TIU TIU CIBAINESSSS.
The stupid thing is, I don't really have the time to waste looking for a pen.
My exams are tomorrow. No need for luck, baby - I'm way past that.
The pen belonged to the farmer. He gave it to me when he got a cooler, blinger one.
Losing it made me think childish thoughts, like how I didn't really like it in the first place anyway - there were gold accents on it, and I hate gold. Hate hate hate gold.
Plus the farmer dropped it or something sometime back, and if you look really really carefully under the light, there's this hairline crack that runs along the cap.
If you look really really really carefully.
Defense mechanism? Defence schwefense. Ugh.
Bloody hell I'm heartbroken.
And it's all because of a pen. My pen.
You know in certain parts of the world, they'd call me insane.
I need to learn how to let things go.
This entry was posted by tsh, on
Sunday, September 17, 2006.
You can bitch back.
Man oh man, I know what you mean. I so, SO know what you mean. I've come to the point that telling myself to let things go (when things are, well, actually things and not some metaphysical crap like the elusiveness of meaning or the transience of life) just adds guilt on top of it that I just go, what the heck, if I'm gonna look for it, I'm gonna look for it. And then freakin' yell at my socks when the thing I'm looking for isn't there - like it's the socks' fault. 'Coz it is you know.
If it's any consolation, you'll probably find it sometime down the road when you're looking for last month's corned beef sandwich. 'Till then, here's empathy.
as always --> exactly.
empathy appreciated.
keep well over there man.
say it