Run, Rush!

Wake up by the vibrations and beeping of my eternal love..my cell phone.
Lie in bed and enjoy a few more minutes of celestial peace...Sorry,NO TIME!
Jump, out..shower.....Enjoy a few more minutes under the water..No, you don't have time to waste!
Put on some make up, spray some perfume.....Leave the room..you're getting late!
These last few months of my life seems like every minute has a name that owns it. The names are Calculus 2, Accounting, Oceanography.
How it seems never ending. How I wish I could just sit and not have a thousand alarms going off in my head. How even a conversation more than 5 minutes makes my mind nudge me and say " That's too long..you've got other stuff to do".
Run, Run,Rush......
And still feel at the end of the day that nothing has been accomplished, nothing gained.
However busy it gets, my nail polish has to be kept perfect. It's color changed, nails filed.
I let my nails be the part that gets to be indulged if not anything than colored liquids.....pink, browns, purples, silver.
Despite my crazy day, I still find time to talk to my mommy....no, not on the telephone but conversations I have with her alone by myself. When the house seems too quiet, when life seems too uncaring....I talk to her. I argue, bully her, demand her coz I love her.
When at night, I'm too tired.....I run my hand through my hair like she would. Just that my hands lack the healing touch she has, my hands lack the softness of her hands...But, I fall asleep only to be woken up by the vibrations and beeping of my eternal love, my cell phone........

A First

Thanks to a refreshing conversatioin with Nigar Apa, I discovered the concept of writing in cyber space. After having a 10 year relationship with my diary, with the warmth of holding a pen and seeing the pen revealing oceans to a sheet of paper that is ever so passive and accepting; it's quite a change typing away. I almost feel like I'm betraying my diary. But, in my heart, I know I'm not because it'll take me a long while before I can share the same intense intimacy.
Maybe I can share my mind here but the depths of my heart trust only the whiteness of the diary, the spiral wire on the side, the pen that with a few strokes reveals more than a tongue can with a thousand movements. The whiteness of the pages reassures me that it can accept and embrace the darkest and blackest truths written on it.
I often wander what will happen to my diaries after I die. I wander what my family, my mother, my sister will think when they read it. I know it'll make my mother cry. I know it'll make my sisters wander. Or maybe they won't be able to see the enigmatic connection..the connection that I've always tried to perfect, the connection that gives me the security of knowing my ambiguity is secure, the connection that lets me reveal so much.