Tim; detonation.:

He didn’t know what he was doing there. He didn’t know anyone and was too neurotic to introduce himself. The entire apartment was buzzing with chatter, laughter and the likes. He felt too distant from everyone else. Maybe he shouldn’t have even come. Maybe he should have spent this Saturday like any other; at home wasting the time away with a new PC game or watching some reruns on HBO.

Nevertheless, he had to get out of the house. It was driving him banana sandwich. The lack of social interaction was slowly starting to get to him, but it wasn’t much of a difference anyways, because even when with friends, he doesn’t really talk much. What more when thrown into a room full of strangers?

Once in awhile, his friend who threw this soiree would pass by and ask if he was doing okay, and then moves on to the next person. Tim’s reply would be a generic “Yeah, yeah… awesome party!” and then settle back to staring into space with a beer in hand, which was getting warm.

Out of nowhere, a huge commotion broke out and people started screaming and shouting. He walked through the living room and into the bar area (it was kind of a penthouse) to see some people crowding around something. The others were hysterical and were running out of the apartment. Tim put his beer down on a coffee table and walked towards the source of the commotion.

He saw a ticking time bomb. It had 5 seconds before it went off.

He knew that 5 seconds was not ample time to evacuate the blast radius so all he could do was to brace himself and succumb to his destiny, which was to die at this moment. His life didn’t flash before his eyes like everyone’s trite statement. Instead, they were running in his head like a load of film rewinding. That was when he realised that he still had a lot to live for and he just doesn’t realise it. But he didn’t want to die full of remorse. He simply let everything go as he saw the clock tick to zero.

The blast did not kill him; it threw him out of the 30th storey window. His heart was racing as he fell… fell… fell. He closed his eyes just as he was about to hit the ground.

He opened his eyes. He didn’t wake up with a start, he wasn’t drenched in cold sweat. Amazingly enough, that bad ordeal wasn’t a nightmare… to him, it was just another dream.

A dream that made him think.

tim; an introduction.:

Tim thought he had it all figured out. A very logical person indeed. Very linear too, constantly planning every single thing that goes on in his life. A good example of a paradoxed mind as well; he likes spontaineity.

A clash of personality is normally a bad thing. You can't plan things out and execute matters on the fly at the same time. It fucks up the whole space time continuum. Well, HIS space time continuum, at least.

Also, just because he likes to plan, doesn't mean he's good at it. Plans way too far ahead and doesn't factor in the 'what ifs'. A good example would be buying a month's supply of pet food for your ferret and then having it die two weeks later because you were dumb enough to leave the window of your 20th floor apartment open. A window that's easily accessible via a work desk which is accessible via a swivel chair. How convenient and dumb.

Not only is Tim not good at it, he totally sucks when it comes to planning. Too many kinks along the way and the lack of drive is one hell of a recipe for procrastination.

Another problem with him: When a momentous event approaches, it's all he can ever think about. Literally. It's the only thing that keeps playing through his mind. And when it's over... this is what he usually says... "Ok... so what's next?"

Wonderful, Tim. He needs routine in his life. Without it, he's just basically doing nothing and living out life without meaning or purpose.

And get this: he just planned something out. He wants to go back to school. He's poking around some institution websites and keeping his options open for now. Of course right now, it's still nothing but a plan. Whether it works out or not remains to be seen and he knows that. This time he seems pretty determined to straighten his life out and stop fucking around (not sexually).

He knows he has to reclaim his life and there's no better time than now. //

Note: This was written on the spot and I had no idea what was going to happen when I started it. Question: should this be a running story... like a serial or should it change in every post? Comments please... to those who even read this. I'd appreciate it.

i was away? i didn't realise.:

The previous entry is evidence that I normally and habitually don't finish what I start.

Do you realise that sometime in your life, you find yourself needing to be distant from everyone and everything?

Why?

What triggers this reclusive behaviour?

You know... to write in a blog about your own feelings without being able to actually divulge all fine details can be pretty frustrating to the readers. So with that conclusion, I have decided that from the next entry onwards, I shall write fictional short stories that pertain to my life in some way, so that you can have a glimmer of an idea the message I'm trying to convey or emote.

People always relate to you better if it's told in third person anyways.