all that's left is ink

it's just one of those moments, where all you do is stare blank into space and wonder.

-

December 24th. 6pm.

One of the few rainy days in Melbourne's summers. Spent gazing through a first floor glass wall into the streets below (a new forced habit nowadays) as people rush in and out of the train station. Grasping a mug of Sprite with fingers inked in black; nothing but blank thoughts.

This sucks.

A lot of people have this idea of sitting back and let the flow of life move you. I'm one of em. And it's been a mantra for most of us for ages.

Que Sera Sera, what will be, will be.

The laymen idea of living. But seriously, its fucking boring.

A few days back, a dear friend, was glowing in a meeting. Not from radiant beauty (while she is) but from sheer progress and achievements. Deep stories of great career/educational and social success.

There's gonna be a few of you who'd think I'm talking about you. It's not you, it's ALL of you.

Now I'm not being jealous. I'm happy for all of you. seriously.

But there'd be a part of our conversation where you'd say, "What have you been up to lately, love?"

And to be honest, I couldn't find anything positive to say. So now back to the current day, that question still lingers.

The only proper response I would always say was reminded by the black ink at the edge of my fingertips; reminding me that the only achievement I could be proud of was the drawings I've been doing for the past couple of months.

Yup, the ones that twenty other people are on as well.

In conclusion, today I had a revelation on how boring I am; to the point that I am bored of myself.

So here's to next week's post, the new mantra.


Cheers.

oh, and happy holidays!
sorry for the emo rant; won't happen again.