she sat on her laptop, and chewed her lower lip. she had just come back from this new spa she had discovered. she'd gone shopping in the morning, looked at yet another jewellery store, then picked up the IPod she wanted for her birthday next month. she came back, still feeling empty. even retail therapy couldn't fix it anymore. did she need medication? suddenly, she couldn't take it, she got up, threw the laptop out the window. she tried anyway, it bounced off the pane and shattered on the marble floor. she picked up 5k heel she'd bought last week, and smashed it against the glass till it broke. then she picked up her diamonds, one by one, and flung them as far out into the garden as she could. even that wasn't satisfying. she picked up her DVD player, her DVD collection, and then one by one, her clothes, her shoes, her handbags. gucci, LV mixed with the sana and safinaz and zainab market and itwar bazaar in the garden. when she ran out of things to throw, she stood at the sill, balanced on the ledge on her newly pedicured feet, and willed herself to let go.
the wind blew, a bird chirped, and her intercom buzzed as the sevants and parents discovered her afternoon activity.
she stepped back down to answer the intercom. she chewed her lower lip, and came up with a way to explain the madness.

its one more day i skipped work. i just couldn't drag myself out of bed. i couldn't. it was like i was hollow, my lungs had collapsed in on themselves and there was a giant pink elephant sitting on the space between my ribcage and backbone where God said He blew our spirit in. N would call it a chakra point. whatever.
i spent a minute last night amid my violated blog (i didn't touch the template) with random droppings of bright pink in it, and i went to the Slade and NCA site, browsed the masters program, saw i wasn't eligible for applying for it, and just to torture myself went to the undergrad program site and read about the painting and sculpture majors.
i do this to myself occassionally, i seem to have inherited my mothers matyr gene. as i sit clackling my keyboard to smithereens and ruining my brand new manicure in the process, i can only think of the waste, the indecision, the what ifs and WHY's of where i am and what the fuck i'm doing here, and how the fuck i get out of this wealth encased crap before i drown in it.

i'm on the verge of something. what the fuck is it?