that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds

that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowing

that I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy

that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you

She lay with eyes wide open, earphone tightly stuck in the ears.

 

It's 3am in the morning, or, in the midnight. She felt desperately hungry.

 

I really should've ordered that novel on Amazon, she thought, frowning. Nothing but fantasy novels could impress her these days, not even Orhan Pamuk, or James Joyce, or Milan Kundera. All she wanted was to swallow down a whole fantasy fiction in a sleepless night. Why hasn't the library got the third volume of His Dark Materials, she moaned, and why <A Feast of Crowd> so expensive on Amazon? She had to suppress her uprush of buying another 15mL of eye cream, or a delicious vegetaran meal at the Chinese take-away. She thirsted for a complete set of <A Song of Ice and Fire>. Oh yes, the magic name.

 

Lost in another world, that's an earthy way of calling it. She searched her mind with pride, pride for her remaining instincts for words. I'll call myself a wanderlust in the parallel universes. And then she almost wanted to slap herself in the face, isn't that a dull replication of His Dark Materials, shit.

 

So she did not force herself struggling for words while her brain was already exhausted by daily boring acts. She let the music take her away. How she loved the song playing now in the tiny MP3 player. She used to listen to it when she was standing in the bus to school in her junior years. Her heart used to sink and gasp in the overwhelming despair, like it was now. I began to love recalling past even before I knew how to blow up the candles on my birthday cakes. I'm an old woman, she smiled at the thought of this, staring innocently into the darkness.

 

Let it sink then.

 

She followed the lyrics with mouth open. Not a sound was heard.

 

This is my December

These are my snow covered dreams

This is me pretending

This is all I need

 

And yes, I used to think Linkin' Park was the most perfect band in the world. She laughed soundlessly before fell asleep at the last piano note.