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Me, me and me.
It’s always just about me.
Even when the King of Pop leaves too soon, all I ever do is wonder why the world is so unfair.
To me.
I suppose it doesn’t help when everything reminds you of something.
Indeed, we all know our destinations. But it is the fear of where our journey leads us, that keeps us up at night.
We end up hurting the most, the ones that we love.
Indeed, she may seem perfect. But only to those whom will never really know her well enough.
And so, we have arrived at the issue of time.
Time is of the essence, they say. Apparently, not to everyone.
Over the course of the last few months, I have been more and more impatient at the meaning of time.
When time is a matter of life and death. When a minute is as good as a year if nothing can bring him back ever again.
Wasting your time, is really wasting my time too.
When you fail to make it sweet and simple, I do not understand your logic to complicate an already complicated world as it is.
The great big problem is that many go through life wasting time at the expense of someone else’s. With no plans of keeping a solution, any kind of solution at hand, I suppose things can only lead to disaster.
But of course, that doesn’t give me the right to awaken Miss Rude or the old wench, Madam Sarcastic. Although sometimes, it’s just too tempting not to offer a verbal slap or two when someone very well deserves it.
Yes, I am growing old.
I no longer choose to just ‘let it go’ because you’re difficult. Because I know now that what goes around come around.
And what of the mother, who’s really too scared to be one?
Well, I guess she’ll waste more of someone else’s time then.
How about the sweetie, who wishes to cheat time by giving you a hand but does it all wrong? Whose time is accountable for that?
If I feel guilty for going mad, does that mean that my conscience implies that I was wrong to act that way?
Although everytime, I’d manage to find a reason for my blow-up.
It’s his fault.
He should have known.
She started it first.
Sometimes, my inner turmoil is much greater than the crises of the world.
In one second I could explode into a million black balloons.
In two, I could grind myself flat on the railway tracks.
I wish I could duck beneath the water. I wish I could stay there whenever I wanted to.
But even bottomless wells need a breather sometimes.
When I look up at the clouds sometimes, I wonder. If I could part them, if I’m allowed to shape them into what I like. They’re so far out of reach. Perhaps that is why, I am drawn to their existence.
The silver lining on every cloud, it is but embroidery. They evaporate in a touch, much like reality itself. Your fingers can gently trace the curves, the cottony-soft fantasy, but how would one know that it weighs even less than candy floss?
If my clouds are pink, my sky would be too. The pink heavens of my life.
I discovered a blade of grass today. It was the colour of a green so fresh, you’d think of the ocean and mermaids and the wizard of Oz. The shade is pretty, but only to my green-tinted eyes. I see what you don’t. I think, what you never will.
This meadow is mine, only I sleep there. I don’t need a fence, I don’t need a gate. Only for heaven to look down upon me. With my arms behind my head, watch me and smile as I close my eyes for you. Even beneath the sunlight, I do not cringe.
These striped stockings, these mary janes. They do not make me uglier than I can already be. They do not make me more beautiful than I could ever be. They let me sit quietly by the side, sometimes leaning against the Sycamore.
Sometimes, sometimes I’d try not to think of the dull pain in my pocket. A cavern where my knife hides from the world. I cannot help but cut myself because I do not want it to cut you. I might breathe a scream, stifle a shout, but that’s just me.
Let me be.
Can you see that house I see? The one that’s silent on the hill. The world is silent, and so are my ears. I walk with caution, I walk with a skip. I can’t wait to see what’s ahead, but I already know. I’ve lived in it for a thousand years. I’ve walked up the steps a million times. But if you asked me, who goes there? I wouldn’t know.
The little children are playing on their own. I do not know their game. I try to catch their eye, or their interest, but they can only look away. Strange, strange little things.
A certain type of perfection comes through the limitless accumulation of the imperfect.
Well said, Murukami-san.
Makes me feel much better, now that there’s a reason to be one with flaws.
It’s not easy to get a real smile these days. It’s not easy to show the world your smile. Heck, I don’t even know if I have one to share. Simply because I am too afraid of the ephemerals that live with me.
I feel a cold latching on. I almost wish it to envelope me, simply because it slows me down. It makes me think twice before I wield my anger, it gives me time to smile before I lose my temper. It lets me see through twinkling eyes and sparkling imageries.
Sometimes I feel so angry at the people around me. For all the things they cannot do yet act like they can. Those that take on a king’s position but can only walk like a soldier. Common courtesy is lost especially so in 2009. It is all about the present, the now, the today. Everyone’s living their own reality, or much rather, battling their own reality. And when your paths cross, they can only move away without so much as an ‘excuse me’.
People who pass through life asleep. Sucking you in their dreams, their fantasies. They want you to be exactly like what they imagined and yet, dreams are never to be controlled.
I’ve been bullied all my life. I’ve met up with a million condescending statements. And almost always, it’s because I cannot be as loud or as rude as you. Almost everyday now I think to myself, “that is why you’ll never be king”, “that is why you’ll never be in love”, “that is why you’re still here when I’m ready to go”.
You’ve got nothing, if you’ve only got your voice.
You’ve got nothing, if you don’t know how to use your voice.
You’ve got nothing, if you use your voice for some pretty useless words.
You’ve got nothing, if you think someone else’s voice is yours.
Wake up world! Stand up for yourself. Show me why you deserve to be where you are at 39. Show me how you’re planning to care for your wife and kids at 28. Show me how you’re gonna stop being single at 31. Show me why you’ve lost all hope when you’re only 51.
Show me why you drive an Estima like a P-license Kancil driver.
Show me why you drive your super sporty modified car even worse than a P-license Kancil driver.
Show me why I can’t say sorry if you’re the one who calls the wrong number.
Bleh.
You know your audience.
You know what makes them laugh.
But to them, you’re only a character. One, in a countless row of stars. Stars that shine almost as bright as you, you think.
They only know what you tell them. What you choose to reveal. The performance you put on. The paint on your face. The silent screams. The torn-up tears. They know everything, only because you choose to tell.
But he is right. The only reason we perform, is to entertain. When the curtain rises, you are never really the person you think you are.
Truth, is only a state of mind.
And we must never let anyone backstage.
They can’t all see the puppet strings and props at once. Or else they’d wonder. Magic, will once again be forgotten.
I hide, because the truth is bitter. Reality bites. And the only thing that can save my world is the promise and hope illusions bring.
I’ve begun to sing to myself, this song of the Westlife boys.
Cause it’s us against the world
You and me against them all
If you listen to these words
Know that we are standing tall
I don’t ever see the day that
I won’t catch you when you fall
Cause it’s us against the world tonight
Only me and the person within against them all.
If I were to write a book, nobody would read it. This, I’m pretty damn sure.
The other alternative is to paint. But I’ve never had an ounce of talent for that. During my toddler years, paint-with-water books were my favourite. I can only wander the galleries. Admiring instead of as the admired.
I’ve been so tired lately. There have been changes. They have been good. But I am still lost, at times. The invisible plan that I have to follow everyday. And the things I have to do to keep up with this plan. Doing things on my own has its own kind of fun. But sometimes it borders on neglect, and that can be tiring. Especially when you’re not in the best position to complain.
What do I want? I want to sit quietly beside my dog and watch it nuzzle close to me. I want to watch any TV I can get and have all the ice cream I want. With raisins on top. I want to sleep early, I want to wake up late.
I wish I didn’t have to cry anymore. Or feel afraid.
I believe that I’m faster at work. Better, on the whole. And there’s this new friend, that resembles him sometimes. Just knowing that he’s around, makes me feel at home. But this is an excuse of course. To indulge in my misery again. I do have to stop taking comfort in pain. Lest I forget what reality is.
And I’m closing my eyes now.
A little more than a month, and I’ve already grown attached to him. Having to readjust for the past few days, I can’t believe how much I miss him. Everything about him, pieces together what little identity I have left.
I’ve always been protective over the things I own. Watching it catch the rainiest days of the season chisels away at my heart.
I don’t want to hurt you. I only want you near. In your arms, is where I let go.
From the first day I took this path, I gave up the child in me that begged to stay. Like the last piece of jigsaw that solves the puzzle, but ends the game all the same.
Now’s not the time to look towards guidance. You are your own guide. Because they don’t know who you are or what you want. I’ve hushed those flowers up into the attic. And no, they no need dust jackets. Leaving them behind, may not be so bad after all.
Close your eyes,
Don’t you cry.
Let the sorrow within you subside.
Don’t despair,
Have no fear.
Give your weight to me when you hear this lullaby.
Emmy Rossum ~ Lullaby
They say we should try to be kinder than usual to anyone we meet, because everyone is fighting their own difficult battle. The light goes out at night, but fate never really leaves.
You can only do so much at once. Turning on the shower full steam ahead will only get you wet, and sometimes cold. Curtains and towels and tiles won’t help.
I tried taking a step back. Re-evaluating life, love, living, loving. And it worked.
Last night, I knew why making an appearance that night turned out to be the best decision I’ve ever made.
I will not stop believing.
There is hope after all.
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.
Well whatdya know. Sleep does help.
Have a good cry. Then sleep.
It works.
For now at least.
Truth. We hold back from it because we simply can’t find the heart to say it right.
Why do we disguise our words, when all we want to is to speak our mind? Perhaps the very reason why euphemism exists.
It puts hope back into life. Masking underlying problems, softening the fall.
It makes us think, never relying on what is and what’s not.
We somehow become more human. Or so it seems.
It can’t be like what it was. But who’s to say that something better isn’t waiting for me beyond tonight?
I’m not making believe. It’s real. Even after the words have come and gone, your life still lingers on. Every breath, every touch.
Sometimes, it feels like I’m running into thin air. Grabbing the oxygen. Hugging transparency.
Imagine waking up to dreams that are better off real.
The only time I ever spend alone is with you, my confidante. I don’t expect you to say anything, or let me know that you understand. Just lay still, and let me speak my fears, my hopes, my dreams, and all of me.
I can’t count
Stars in the sky
Or climb the mountains
I can’t even swim all the seas
But I know
Absence is unfair
Nothing can replace what I miss
‘Cause I’m breathing
Far away from you
And every second feels like thousands more without you
Like the North needs the South
The wind needs the clouds
To all of these reasons of life
I need you.
It meant a lot to me just by you being there. I wasn’t expecting, but you did it anyway. A cushion in the storm. A bed on the plane. It’s like heaven, when you’re near.
Indeed, my soul is bigger whenever I’m my own. Louder voice, coloured personality. Jokes aside, there is so much more than this.
We all fall. We all fall at least once. But I don’t think I can fall again.
This year has been chaotic. For all of us.
Love gone, love found, love gone again. Lies, winter chills, identity crises, suffocation, betrayal and death.
When life leaves, a part of you dies too.
Thankfully, there’s just 53 days left. I believe that the sun’s over in 2008.
And we’ll be ready to greet it when it shines.
Our lives are changing.
Right before my very eyes.
We’re all dying.
In our own melancholic way.
Is this what we’ve worked so hard for? Those gruelling years of blackboards, pencils and paper.
If onlyI had known life was going to be this way.
Breathless, without a better reason.
And I can’t help you, if I don’t know what’s wrong. Sometimes you cower in your shell and try to shut the world out with an okay, but it’s not alright. I want to tell you so much that it’s okay, it’s alright, we won’t judge you, nobody will.
But I know you have your reasons to let it slip. It takes a while to warm up to a situation huh?
What are we all waiting for actually?
What are you hoping for? Someone to break the ice?
No, it won’t crack when we lay still.
Waiting. Everyone is just waiting.
For you, for me, for him, for her.
Sometimes I wonder, why we even wait when we know the answer.
Because we can’t go on living without that glimmer of hope we keeping covering up for ourselves?
We all fear that our fears will eventually come true. Even dreams do right?
I want to believe. I want to, more than anything.
But as the clock crept slowly past it’s expired date, I am force to give up.
Maybe you didn’t forget.
Maybe, I did.
As time passes, we forget.
We lose the things most precious to us, but still we deny that they’re fading away.
It feels weird.
Like we’re not that close anymore.
Maybe, as time goes by, everything changes.
What else is there to expect, really?
People grow apart. Out of sight, out of mind, heart and soul.
Forgetfulness is really a cure for heartache. When we cannot let go, the only way is to forget.
Perhaps I have succeeded.
I have yet to move on but at least I’m no longer pining over lost time.
It’s true, sometimes I do forget that I ever had a past.
It seems that nowadays, I’m just thinking about how I’m going to face the future.
There seems to be so much to do everyday. Not a bad thing really.
Just tiring is all.
