Imagine if Lexy was a patchwork of strikingly colourful cloth with the brightest arrays of colours in the universe, everyone would turn to him whenever they needed any help and cut a little bit of cloth, and Lexy would become bit by bit, just a scrap of indistinguishable cloth. Lexy was very artistic and Lexy is not me, but a fairy that I have known. Lexy appeared to be bipolar, but I know that he was just a result of all that he had gone through. Everyone turned to Lexy for help

Because he was the patchwork of the universe, and he was an accumulation of past experiences. Lexy loaned me a bit of his cloth to wipe my tears when I was sad, but Lexy never gave me an any bit of cloth for the longest time. He would teach me and loan me different Colours of his patchwork, which symbolized the different parts of his experience. Each colour encapsulated the meanings of life and how to deal with people, but he never gave it to me because I never understood him and he never really understood me. Being the head of the patchwork world, he had to sew up new pieces of cloth to his bedsheet body, and he grew so big that he thought he could do anything. Yet, these pieces of cloth fell off so easily because Lexy used bad strings. He would employ the secondhand strings of dead silkworms and they could be so deceivingly beautiful, for silkworms were known for the stunning cloth they could create, only when used correctly. Lexy, Mr Patchwork, was the epitome of perfection. Lexy was Mr and Ms Patchwork, for he could be anything and he was anything he wanted to be. He could even be an it. Lexy, with his perfect patchwork and of incredulity, always took his pieces of cloth for granted. Sometimes when people who needed help tried to cut his cloth away, he forgot to use better quality string. There was this type of string named steeling, and it was so strong that no one could spoil any form of patchwork if that string was used. Lexy always forgot to purchase this string because he already had the secondhand silkworms, but the silkworms were so overused. The new little bits of patchworks often fell away because the Ghosts of the silkworms would bite and gnaw on the sewings. The old patchworks were most demanded for, and many people tried to pull them away, but they didn't budge much when aliens attacked because they loved Lexy and the patchwork world when they had first joined his community of cloth to avoid the aliens. You see, cloth can create warmth, and little bits of cloth alone can do nothing, but when sewn together and constructed into a community, these little cloth could do wonders. Sometimes, these cloth that made up Lexy were a good blanket that engulfed me. They covered us up and kept me so warm, but then I ran out of the cloth for no one knows nor dares explore what will happen after I totally get surrounded by the cloth. Lexy used the cloth to cover his deeds, and used the cloth for warmth. Angel then took a pair of scissors and cut bits of the beautiful patchwork and some old pieces and many new pieces fell away. Angel was neutral, and Angel was no angel at all. She just happened to have a positive name.

Patchworks can create warmth, yet patchworks highlight mere imperfection of little bits and cover ups. One day, there was a thunderstorm and it struck a humongous hole in Lexy's body. The ghosts of silkworms further gnawed on him and Lexy's remaining patchworks were half hanging. They wanted to hang on but they were falling, further and further. "Steelings! We need Steelings!" they chanted, but this was just a lie because patchwork cannot speak. How then can patchworks be happy? When Steelings are used, but how does Lexy know?

I wanna create my own book. (:

This is something Lexy has to learn.

I noticed something as I looked at the "x minutes ago" sign on Facebook when I refreshed the page- that actually, time flies away so fast. I then also remembered how I was always so uptight about time in the past. I used to treasure every single standing moment, and even studied while queuing up for food. I would never, honestly, queue for more than five seconds. I would get annoyed because they were wasting my time and If there was a queue, I would disappear first. Then, why are standards different now? Time is really so precious and eight months have slipped past just like that. I let unimportant things take up my time even when I did not enjoy it. Perhaps the first few months had more of a conscious alert mind where I took notice of how my time was spent, but then I grew complacent. The root of the problem is a lack of discipline and the solution itself is discipline. I remember how I used to run every night because of discipline and how I never ate fried food because of discipline. Then, when I started to allow myself to miss a running session and allow some unclean food to touch my lips, the art of discipline broke away from me. We cannot allow standards to fall below what they are. We must always remember where our success stemmed from. That is the reason why I have not utilized my time to the fullest.

On another note, I love stories and I simply adore writing. I have reiterated it a million times. I can never describe how much I love writing. I would love to talk to no one at all and just sit somewhere all day, because I dislike negative noise. I love to compose lyrical pieces of dancing words that fly around and are swift to complement fanciful ideas. I love to be so flightful (haha my own word) sometimes, but at times I am extreme and I become so serious. I like to think that writers are queer and oddballs sometimes, and the word "oddball" makes me laugh. It paints a picture of peculiarity and fullness of it, just like an oversized globe that utterly expands and invades every personal space of yours. In short, oddness can kill you but yet, it can satisfy your hunger. Human beings are so strange sometimes. They can die of oddness, and yet they can bloom when they are different. They can employ and ride on the wave of creativity when they are "Oddballs", yet on the other hand, sometimes, they end up drowning and losing their lives because they forgot how to swim. They forgot that just like everyone else, they could learn to swim and conquer the huge waves of excitement and anger, and that they are just like anybody else. How strange.

There once was a girl named Jane, and she was a very common girl. Her name was Jane and it was a common name, and because of her commonness, she grew very sad. Jane was never happy because Jane was just a girl, and as a girl, all she did was to sew little names on the hankerchiefs of the well-groomed males in her era. All she did everyday was to entertain pleadings of hunger and chants for the need of attendance to these deprived fellows. Jane was never happy, because she was made to conform to societal norms.

However, one day, Jane decided that she was no longer to be bound by these norms. She did so many things and she was so tired that she told me not to say it, but I want to tell you that Jane did the most radical things. She went crazy and she did all the things you would not have imagined, but still, she wasn't happy. She then realized that everything was just vanity. It is best to just be happy.

I am tired of writing. I especially love the annoying repetition of the name "Jane". The intention is to make it childlike, and to be honest with you, merely to simplify whatever we all go through. Honestly, everything in life is so simple to understand. Can everyone just chill and be happy?I have heard of so many less than cheery events. Let us all just change our perspective to a happy one yeah. Learn to distance yourself sometimes, in difficult situations, and it really helps. (:

Imagine if every person who entered into your life and left took a scrap of your meat away, you'd be just a pile of bones. Yet imagine if every person who entered your life and left Added flesh to your meat, you'd be full and fleshy. The truth is, the way I perceive things can change in a split second and reverse itself again. Too much is at stake, yet at stake is nothing if you are in control. What then can be done? I wanna give it a shot maybe, but I know what I else I have wanted all
Along. Also, I know what is at stake. Pain is scary! We all know many things in our lives, and have known Many things as well. What I wanna do
Just right now is to sleep and rest. (: one thing I love very much about my
Bed is that it gives me a sense of security and familiarity, and my charcoal pillow givesr
Warmth. What we need are familiar things, but what if we are faced with intrusion? How do
We react? I wanna be happy in different ways, but sometimes happy is just being
Content. Sometimes we block
Things off, but all we gotta do is let it down. (; it really depends on the circumstance. Remember that after all, a partially permeable wall is the best. (: I love writing so much. I miss my literature writings.

I basically love the art of composition. It keeps me sane and makes me feel alive whenever my spirits are down. Many times, we tend to forget that we were once good. We tend to not remember the fact that we were once that amazing and indescribable. Yet, strangely, it can be another way, where we tend to remember too much about past glories. It is all about the Perspective you choose to take. Your words can become meaningless words once you lose your value, and yet they could mean so much to you. Status means a lot to me, and that is by motivation. I found out through simple tests. Really true. Fight for your motivation, and feed yourself with only good fuel. I know it's tough and certain journeys may seem impossibly rocky, but do you know that rocks are actually great foundations? Perspective. (: good night.