Designer: Manikka
Resources: 1 2 3

Why yes..yes, I do like to think that I am extremely secretive (;
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Maybe our minds are capable of keeping things hidden from the rest of our consciousness. Let's assume, for example, that there is a small, secluded room right at the very tip of the medulla oblongata (because it's the funniest part to say), kept under lock and key by a tiny man in a purple top hat that is three sizes too big for his head (because I like top hats). Let's say this man's name is Piedro, and he and his purple top hat have been making rounds, collecting little scraps of memories and dreams that you could do without, ever since that fateful day you'd been conceived and drowned in your mother's womb. Maybe Piedro thinks we can all do without those insane, bloody memories of being forced out of some one's vagina and slapped on our asses; maybe he thinks we need to remember things like our first heartbreak instead of the time we fell off our bikes and hit our heads on the pavement. I think he conspires with alcohol and Alzheimer's, and I hate how he occasionally steals our crammed TE reviews and leaves us with searing images of red X's and horrible marks.
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Sleepy-eyed and full of sighs, I'll shuffle my way back into your brain at the most ungodly hours. Yes, I'm trying to make this hard. Sans that clueless little looking-glass, I'll know right where we're at, this time. So when the breeze carries a whiff of me, yes sweetie, it's me. And when the light hits everything just right, yes, I -and only I; just wanted you to see every ounce of what could be.

It's my very first priority to make everything a little brighter: to show you how blue the sky is and how perfectly the world turns when you feel like spinning. I'm out to show you just how perfectly the world turns on my axis, when I know that I've got you spinning.

This is the way that my words dart across another empty space..and another, and another again until I overlay some sort of rhythm in my head (but only in my head, until the schizophrenia sinks in). Oh and when the songs make you turn and redden at those little cheeks, yes, I -and only I; must've wanted you to hum along coz I -and only I; know those kinds of songs.

I know I should be keeping myself from writing all this gibberish, because there are no faces to accompany these sickeningly strange ideals. But maybe, maybe..please. Fireworks and a little originality, please. It's about time. Amen.
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Sometimes, people stay silent out of secrecy, sometimes it's self-preservation, and sometimes..sometimes, we honestly just don't..know..what to say..


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