You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March 2008.
I finally understand what it all means.
The drama of the bitter moments, we sometimes even miss it.
Now bliss is waving right before me, but I have yet to reach out and grasp it fully.
That special day, that special Sunday. That was bliss.
That movie, that one you watched again.
The wrong ice cream flavour as I stifled a giggle.
The coffee, although I didn’t take any.
The accident, and how you felt happier just by seeing me after.
The couch and the TV, as your relatives met me one by one.
The romantic evening that you now refuse to acknowledge, although that was when I first fell in love with you.
Could I ask for more really?
Once again, it caught me by surprise. Didn’t know that it could appear this way.
Seeing the disappointment melt away. Watching as you unveiled the love you never hid.
I could have cried at that very moment.
Having thought I discovered before, only to discover that it was this very moment, that I rediscovered it all in the purest of ways.
I wish you would never have to leave. Never to watch me lock the gate. Or wave goodbye.
Do you know this feeling, this one that jolts you back into reality, thrusting the sweetness of life into your vision, your dreams?
It’s a little like love. The one you had always wanted to embrace. Not recognizing it when it’s upclose, because you’ve never seen one.
No, wait. Actually, it’s falling head over heels, all over again. In one full swing, one tall shot, one long swoop.
Sounding like the sylphs’ deafening wails in a garden of quiet solitude.
Though this came too late into the night. When I can do nothing but let you go, and watch you drive off into the distance.
As I silently pray for the minutes to pass by more quickly so that I can spoil myself with this treat of you, all over again.
*fingers crossed*
I’ll see you again soon my love. Without an ounce of doubt.
The bay tree blows.
She listens and cower in fear of where this might lead.
Picking at the leaves will not help.
Water. If only it could come to rescue her.
She doesn’t understand the streaks in the bark. With colour, but no certainty.
Lightning bolts flash unemcumbered. Without this rain coat, without this pain lingering like a shadow in my soul, I might not survive.
Sometimes I forget this voice. Straining from all angles. Climbing these walls that no longer hold ridges.
What am I to say, when the wind speaks in breaths?
I’ll let it spiral out of my reach, because I don’t know how to face it.
Is it because I don’t think? I don’t remember? I don’t care? Which one is it?
Where do I run to when I need the silence? To hide from this look that confuses me, as I swing from the truth and stare in wait for the joke to subside.
How do you define happiness from one time to another? Can you really put two and two together, and force them to be the same?
You were so happy then.
Which shouldn’t be the benchmark, should it?
If my words prefer to lose itself in melancholy, shall I be deemed more unhappy than I should be?
Chip. Chisel. Chip. Sometimes I stare at amazement and wonder, that such thoughts can come about.
It is precisely during these times that I wish to close my eyes and fall back into oblivion.
To shut out the world and keep them in their own.
Because it takes too much effort to explain redundancy.
I do not wish this to be a pattern.
Shutting down with the redness in your eyes.
Breathe for a moment.
Look at me.
I am not theirs. I am not his.
I am here, with you.
Sadly, that is not yet enough.
Unsettling isn’t it. When you suddenly realize that the world out there, is a little too big for you alone.
They swerve into your lane. Disrupting your certainties and lead you onto full-blown new ones you don’t think you can take just yet.
They don’t care. They will never care. It’s your word against theirs.
Your eyes. Against their lies.
But if everyone cared, rules wouldn’t classify the forbidden. The untouchables.
Growing up is at times painful. Especially when you hear that child screaming as you leave her behind you. Without a reason, except that you should have done this a long, long time ago.
I look at this fabric with disdain. I can’t believe it, she says. I can’t believe I used to be like this. Still am, till I am able to redefine this writer.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve never truly been good at life. That’s why it’s so damn important that I get this right. That I push myself to meet every opportunity, with a hope that I will get there, I will get there like I know I can.
It’s hard to explain to them what this love means. Sometimes, I even look at these rings that hold onto these bones, and not recognize them as mine. Everything is changing. The night is closing on, but I am not afraid.
I’ve lost touch, but these senses will return.
Practice. It will bring perfection one day. Not as soon as one hopes, but it will come.
The brakes no longer screech as I hit on them.
To steer. To run with wheels that aren’t my own. To live. They now come in one straight line.
Pick it up. I know you’ll make it through.
We all do.
So this is what it feels like. To no end, my horizons roam free.
As far as the clouds can take me. As high as my courage flies.
I’ll be. I’ll always be.
Those trusting eyes will see me go further. One day, you’ll be sitting beside me without a worry in the world. I’ll bring you to places you’ve always wanted to meet. I’ll take you there.
With these hands, I promise.
Anger, I have never understood.
Scream and shout, if it makes you happy.
If it makes you feel better.
Or if it makes you feel like you’re releasing your anger, in the first place.
The pent up emotion, nobody’s there to listen to what they are. We don’t understand. We don’t see it the way you do.
This butterfly effect from the smallest of things. I can see it building, but I still can’t quite grasp its maturity.
I know. Anger is above all. Even fear. Especially fear.
We kick. We fight. Because we can’t let them know that inside, we want to hide so badly.
It’s so much easier to point out the faults you’ve noticed. Their faults. The things they weren’t meant to do. With the stash that you struggled to save. And the trash they unknowingly flaunted right in front of you.
Of course, it’s only an opinion.
Thank you for reminding me the rules of the competition.
But please, this is just an opinion.
We can speak in languages beyond comprehension. Just to demonstrate that we can say whatever we want, because it is an opinion. And opinions aren’t meant to matter, except to the person that wants to get it off his chest.
I shouldn’t really take this to heart. But a lot of what is said, really explains a lot. The forthcoming can be expected. Ironically, it just shows how much I don’t get it.
The frustrations won’t go away, if you let it become a cycle. The smallest of pebbles have now become the rocks in your path. Keep it there, and soon the endless river will form a dam.
We never know where to start. We don’t know where to go. But we still need to take that first step. We can say we want to do this. And what we’d like to get done tomorrow.
But the truth is, we’re really judged for what we actually get done isn’t it?
I remember her interpretation. That we all have intentions, good or bad. We can have a million good ones, marred by only one tiny bad one. If the good ones never get the time, and the bad one slips out, what good really are intentions? Precisely that, they are only intentions, not actions of any solid kind.
Everything that I said I’d do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on
I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I’m standing still
Perhaps this is what I need. Getting there on my own. Bringing change to myself, rather than waiting for the world to wait for me.
I don’t know if I can do it. I’m still learning, still discovering, still tasting. I’ve been left out in the open for too long. Time to make it mean something.
This empty skull.
This lifeless heart.
That can’t seem to understand, how similar we can be. Your weights are no doubt meant for the nature you’ve been born with. Those that you have to shoulder, I wish I could lend a hand.
I am still afraid. Advantage, it seems, is one letter short of 10. Not doing much, yet afraid that less will be given.
It frustrates me that a word can lead onto a million thoughts. That those words are needed so much to pacify the insecurities.
Sometimes, you don’t even believe a word I say, because you already have your own opinions about me.
Sometimes, I just want to shut the world out with the silence I can bring.
Sometimes, I just want to sleep without repeating what I’ve repeated.
Sometimes, I just want to quietly lay my head down, and listen to the other heart that beats.
Sometimes, I just want you to say that it’s ok to be me. That it’s ok to cry. To feel this way. To rethink my footsteps.
I always knew it was a mistake. Disclosure. Now I can’t harp at the foothills of these faults. Because I’d be made to accept that you’d be bearing the brunt of it. The brunt of it all. Even if it’s different. Even when I’m trying to tell you what I’m screaming to say.
And because I’m no good with the spoken word, I end up explaining my way out just so that the balloon flies to just the right spot without blowing out of proportion. I can’t be me sometimes, I can’t run at my own pace. Because when you need an answer, I can’t give it to you right away. And when you need it so badly everytime, sometimes the answers can’t all be right. No time to think. No time to say it like I mean it.
These headaches that crop up so often, I wish I knew how to make it go away.
