The question paper stared at me,
It knew me,
I was in oblivion.


I got up,
Went for the toilet.




Still nothing.


Time’s up!
No luck indeed.

I let myself sink
Into my glorious consequences
Of not working hard enough.

What, how,
Do you define working hard enough?
Is it banging your head relentlessly into the exercise sheets?
Is it slamming sleepless nights into word-filled papers?
Is it…

I don’t know anymore.



I felt like I should have stopped studying.

But, I never did.

It is kind of a discipline.



I felt like studying killed my creativity.

It certainly did.

I could do nothing to stop it.



I’m so sick of myself,

My school self.

I love my working self better.

No facades, pure grind.

Getting along with people better.


I walked in the shopping mall,
Rain was heavy, outside.

I just finished a volunteer job,
Rather let my mouth ran a little wild,
I should watch out.

I’m more aware,
Not so daring in being the productive,
Austere self anymore.


No movies.

What’s the point anyway?

I want to watch with her.

I want to ask her out.

What is the fucking point?

I’m so sick of myself.

I’m so sick of this.


I really should try to ask her.

Stop hiding around the bushes.


What is the point?

What are you thinking?

What is the point?

What is the fucking point?

I shouldn’t be thinking about her.

It’s not going to work.

I failed too many, just way too many times.

I need to stop chasing.

I need to stop, have a look at myself.

Stop throwing my love, left and right.


Craving for more? Down below:
You. So Different.
All Out.
Look. At. Me. PLEASE!
sHuT tHe F! (Explicit)
no. no. no. no. no.
Come ON!
Pulled Away

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

9 thoughts on “Pause.

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