i look at the mole and he seems to be reminding me of something i've forgotten.
its like quite and not bothering anyone, keeping to itself,
but despite how docile it seems,

i keep having the feeling that its saying,
hey, look here, you forgot something...




weird or whatever.
i guess im probably the only person in the world who passes her time imagining the personification of her mole.
*sigh*
---------------------------------------------------
and that reminds me.
the graphic design book that i've been eyeing costs 25 euro.
i dont even bother to count...
sigh...

speaking of which, today is may2nd, which means
happy birthday to ol' mom and deadpan-cynical-always-slap-me-on-the-left-thigh lemming.
i think i must be getting old,
because i stood outside the cake shop desperately trying to remember and count the total number of candles needed for their cake, while the shop assistant repeated to me, in a rather annoyed voice,

'how many candles you want?'

'er, wait wait, im counting...
erm, ok ok i think i want 6 big ones and 8 small ones..'

shop assistant *tries to hide giggle* : 'wah, 68 ah...'

'erm, er, no, its two people's birthdays...'
---------------------------------------------------------

its funny, but drawing 24/7 isnt as fulfilling and fun-packed as i envisioned it to be... sometimes its just tiring, sometimes its just crap, sometimes it just frustration... but as with kendo, and all other things i put off due to indetermination, procrastination, doing it always makes me feel better, almost immediately.


i've always had trouble drawing myself;
i keep telling myself that its because i don't know myself well;
and that seemed to suffice, at least some time ago, because those i know really well, good and rotten, i can draw with reasonable amount of resemblance...

but somehow, lately answers like these seem to be excuses...
is it that i am unable to draw myself?
or is it that i am unsatisfied with the way my drawings portray myself?
or is it because

im unhappy with myself?


its the uncomfortable feeling of being at odds with yourself,
frowning when you look at the image in the mirror when you wake up [though i really think that bed hair is sexy, its just really, really hot]
feeling pangs of insecurity when you see your reflection off the glass panel when you're walking randomly in some packed shopping mall,
feeling like you're under the scrutiny of all and saunder when you wear something new

i know these dont exist
i mean, by right, logically speaking, they shouldnt
there isnt any reason for them to; im just imagining an imaginary audience
[but then, no reason legitimizing their existence isnt a good enough reason for their non-existence, this i've always strongly believed]

but if anything
my worst critic is always myself.


you can be amazed at how shockingly-low my self-esteem can get.
as low as the emotional-suicidal-lows on the circardian emotion cycles that bipolar patients experience on a regular basis, if not with the help of therapy and medication... well i suppose i should be glad that unlike them, i don't experience mania on a regular basis...



alas, in the end, all i really was, really am doing-

acting in front of my imaginary audience,
living my personal fable.

-----------------------------

in case you wonder if and why there are unexplained spaces in between my sentences and words,
they mean that im thinking.