last night. happy accidents. many of them. private little conversations. you’re a nice person to talk to. i’m not much of a talker. i’d rather just listen. yeah. well, then we just can be silent. and so we sat in silence, hong kong buzzing around us, living, people walking, some fast, some slowly. some drunk, some completely aware of the world around them. i’m not sure in which group of people i belonged last night. but i was definitely aware of more things than i should have been. monday.
i don’t know what was it that made me change my mind. maybe i was worried they forgot about me too soon. maybe it was just a bad night and i blamed it on music and their constant playing of the same songs over and over. maybe it had nothing to do with anything.
i slept less than five hours. we ended up in sticky fingers. i cannot even remember the last time i ended up in that hell hole. new year’s eve? probably. but i couldn’t stay long. not eighteen yet. at fourteen i was there more often than now. irony of laws. senseless. but i didn’t mind. words began to form in my mind and i felt like writing. and the moment we got home, i sat down and started writing. nothing could have stopped me last night. ten pages of feelings and dreams. dreams became so important to me. i used to dream differently. my current dreams have so much in common with my daily life it almost scares me. but i needed to feel it. needed to know. what it was like.