When I am by myself, I read so much in books, listen to and watch so much on the internet or television, and think about everything in great dexterity, that I forget how no sounds have been made. None have for the entirety of my solitude. I am alone, and I am silent.
Perception plays a large part in this, as well. Perhaps I'm too preoccupied with far more important happenings than to be bothered by company or noise. Scattered.
This weekend I did indulge myself on watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I can't lie and say that I'm not completely in love. I've watched 'Sweet Transvestite' at least 20 times over since Friday night. I can't get enough of Frank 'N Furter.
While everything seems so vacant and abysmal, I must remember that as I sit here eating my cheap oriental dish, reminiscing about the doctor's lovely face, and thinking about Michael Jackson's old rendition of the Beatle's 'Come Together', I realise that it's okay. That I just need to relax, get done what needs to get done, and be content.
While everything seems so vacant and abysmal, I must remember that as I sit here eating my cheap oriental dish, reminiscing about the doctor's lovely face, and thinking about Michael Jackson's old rendition of the Beatle's 'Come Together', I realise that it's okay. That I just need to relax, get done what needs to get done, and be content.
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