i like to dream, but i dont want to imagine. some things ought to be experienced. sometimes i dream so much that things become so real to me; that i feel a sense of dejavu -- like i have done it. I HAVE DONE IT! but when someone pinches me, it is all an illusion that crumbles; a mirage that wasnt. it bothers me, big time. i know, no one ever learnt to fly by doing nothing; but hey, we are dreamers. we are dreamy people; & i realised we all need to be prodded with sticks because nothing good ever falls from the sky. i think suffering is a great rite, because through all the torture & blood, sweat & tears, one creates something -- something one can call one's own. on the contrary, something to share. sharing makes me childishly happy. just like how i share my passion for cooking, & cook for the people i love -- it really does make happiness.

it makes me happy.