i honestly think that my dreams are tryna tell me something.
jus last night i dreamt of travelling on a highway, scorching sun, blurred vision, destination nowhere in sight; and yet we have to continue on our journey - anywhere, as long as we get out of the hellish parched concrete road. each droplet of perspiration felt like thick butter on our skin, and we inched our way slowly but surely. and when we reached solace, or thought we reached solace, it hit us hard that the reprieve is not for us to relish; we can only stand outside pathetically looking in at what we cannot have.
and yet the only salvation is so simple, so pure.
and for now, i'm travelling on the highway to find what i should find.
icy fingers playing piano on my skin - 1:21 PM
grace chen
14 october 86
ntu
communication studies
long bus-rides
thinking of the what-ifs
the occasional alcohol
music