what i want, how i want
strip me bare, what will i be?

writing compositions for the primary 4s and 5s had such powerful uprooting effect on me. the sort of paradigm shift in order to write according to how a model composition should be is truly, devastating.

i have been so used to describing myself in "i am as cold as the ringing telephone and as playful as a nike water bottle". so much so, cliches like "he was as quiet as a mouse" kills me. my soul feels like it is ripped apart 200 times a day and spasms reverberate through my nerves. i die writing cliches.

when words no longer describe how i truly am, who will i be? i find myself bounded by the sheer redundancy of words like "sarah is a nice and helpful girl". you use "nice" on dogs and "helpful" on report books. never on human beings.

so tell me, what would i ever be if i am never able to be described by words? i will be free, my friends. as free as a freaking plastic bag and i don't care if you cannot understand.

and don't even tell me how i would be restrained by the term "free" because i will make you spell free a thousand times until this word no longer means a thing to you.

burn in scorching hell, model compositions; even-though-i-rather-enjoy-laughing-at-the-modelness-of-my-writing.