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invoking iago. Thinking back, thinking of you Laying back, head on the grass You made me feel like the one You made me feel like the one Drinking back, drinking for two Sleeping in the back of my car You made me feel like the one You made me feel like the one I don't know where we are going now Wake up call, coffee and juice I wonder if we'll meet again You made me feel like the one You made me feel like the one I don't know where we are going now So take a look at me now ** I FREAKING LOVE THIS SONG TO BITS AND PIECES. ** In Lit classes, they teach you to analyse a piece of writing, read between the lines. You pick out certain words that jump out at you, be it because they don't collocate with the rest of the sentence, because there is a milder alternative that wasn't employed, and you try to figure out what the writer intended when he used those words. You look for subtext, for connotations, negative and/or positive, think of what hasn't been said and use it to decipher what has been said. In Lit classes, more often than not, you're looking for subtext in places where none exists. The atrocity of my experience with Prac Crit in JC2 almost turned me off to literary critical analysis - almost, but not quite. Such skills come in handy at times. Of course, the irony is that you're very much aware of the futility of what you're doing, because at the back of your mind, a monotonous, robotic voice is saying, "Over-analysing" repeatedly, alarm signals going off in the background, the same way the alarm in Lost's hatch sounds when nobody pushes the button. And just like what happened in The Prestige, sometimes it's much better to accept what's right in front of you, rather than dig obsessively to uncover a more complicated explanation that most likely doesn't exist. One plus one makes two. Period. But because we're human, and because humans are inherently self-destructive, we keep digging anyway. ** I feel my old sense of self-assurance and confidence seeping back into me. I'm uninhibited, certain, sauntering through life with a smirk on my face, one wide stride after another. I buried this person last year when things didn't quite go as I thought they would. This person died for a while because she was afraid, because she wasn't sure, because she didn't know what she wanted, because she didn't know that she didn't want the things she thought she wanted. This person died and it was a knee-jerk defence mechanism, and she forgot that she could always go on the offensive. Offence.diaryland.com, right? Ha. For a 15-year-old moron (because I created this online diary when I was 15), I was actually not that stupid. For once in a really long time, I feel like I can do whatever the hell I want, just because I can. ** Hello Simon! :)
before sunrise // before sunset
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