Dear Zonk.

I cannot sleep. I feel sick and I cannot sleep. And I can't calm down long enough to lie down and try. I know I've whined here about not sleeping before, but that was all nothing in comparison to this..All that I can do and this blog and all of you..I think I would trade it all. I think I really would. 
Pray for me Zonk. Please. I pray for myself but it doesn't seem to work.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

7 thoughts on “fear”

  1. eventually. after i googled critical approaches to enid blyton, went from there to something about dystopian texts and then to a very interesting blogpost about murakami where i posted a giant comment. sufficient distraction :) i was in bed by 3 or so.

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