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Itís the start. The kickoff, and weíre back to square one. I brush my teeth, like any other day, but it isnít. I look in the mirror, and give a chuckle, heartily dismissing that voice. Címon! Itís just New Yearís resolutions. Youíve been a pretty decent person; now, donít be ridiculous! Youíve got better things to do.
Replacing my toothbrush in its usual rack, I hesitate. Just for good measure, I floss my teeth. Stepping out of the bathroom, I make a mental note of the resolutions Iíve just thought of. Theyíll be No. 3 to 8 on my list.
Itís our last chance to see. Last chance, to make a difference. Last chance, to make it work. Last chance. Make or break. Do or do not, there is no try. Running helter-skelter, you and I see it in each others eyes. Itís going to be one hell of a ride. Buckle up, youngíuns; you donít want to get blown out the windows. Or chewed by a giraffe. Remember: you are
a piece of food, and if you think you are, you are most definitely
the leftovers. Weíve come this far, and I donít see why canít you.
I thought weíd die the moment we heard the rhyme. We didnít. I thought theyíd run away from us. They didnít. I thought itíd collapse. It didnít. I thought weíd leave together. We didnít. I thought heíd stay, just to herd the rest off. He didnít. I thought youíd know better. You didnít. I thought weíd talk about it. We didnít. I thought Iíd sleep. I didnít. I thought weíd be the earliest. We werenít. I thought youíd understand. You didnít. I thought I could hold on to you, depend on you for support. I couldnít.
It just didnít happen.
Itís all taking shape now. Growing, with a life of itís own. Like a newborn lamb, itís taken its first few shaky steps, and now itís learning to frisk around. Triumphant, I laugh myself silly just thinking about it. Weíve come too far Ė thereís no turning back. You know? Itís heart-stopping when youíre up there; you shiver with the excitement when you sense the high strung delirium everyone is in, and impulse tells you to join the mob. Itís all taking shape now, and too soon itíll grow wings and take flight. Fly away, but not just yet. Not yet.
Things donít always go the way we want them to, but this is just off tangent. This turned out to be a hundred times harder than I thought itíd be. Nobody said it was easy, but no one ever said it was gonna be so hard. Human connection never seemed so distant. Speaking, it seems, doesnít seem to work. Perhaps itís just me, or maybe itís your apathetic indifference, or it mightíve been just the weatherÖ Iím breaking away. Itís you and me, and all of the people. If you canít even begin to comprehend that, youíve just lost me.
The weekend never took so long to arrive. A brief respite, if only for awhile, away from the torrent of catastrophes. Rain down, they did, in all forms of shapes and sizes (though not as sweet) all week long. Thank God for the sunshine Ė it never felt better. Thereís something in the air that made all the things that have been weighing me down feel much lighter. Iím done with second guessing Ė Iím all ready to kick back and let the show get on. Itís time for us to step up; itís time for us to shine. Itís our time.
It ends tonight.
The late nights in school, the paint-splattered people. The sea of people in white, and then the comforting scatter of those in black. The grandiose banners, spotlights, and then the glitzy costumes. The songs we sing; the cheers we shout even with our hoarse voices. The flurry of activity; the laughter and the tears. The crazy unspoken camaraderie, the bridges weíve built. The blaze of fire, and the moments that take our breath away. Iíd rather we burn brightly; illuminate the night. I'd rather burn out the best than let them die as embers.
It ends tonight.
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Trepidation. I could almost hear my heart beating, and I could definitely feel my stomach sink to the bottomless abyss. Just like the Oil Drop. All this seems strangely familiar, and itís making me sick. This feeling of dťjŗ vu isnít a good one Ė and my instincts think likewise. The waiting is making me jumpy. And I wait, till I see you. Every step you take, the intimidation in the air thickens, and I feel suffocated. I see your scorn, worn haughtily on your face. Standing up ruler straight, I maintain my countenance. Truth is, Iím shivering in my shoes.
Sticks and stones can hurt my bones but words will never hurt me.
There. You said it. Like a knife through my heart, you stabbed it there, right in front of me. Hurt my heart, you did, and far more damage. Confused, hurt and maligned, I walk away calmly. Tears, donít fall. Legs, donít fail me. I barely see anyone, and keep my mouth resolutely shut, in case any rants or grouses spew out. Verbal diarrhea isnít pretty.
Control. Those deleterious comments will never hurt me. Control. Nor those disparaging remarks! Control. Oh, the ridicule! Iím in control. I am!
Peering down, Iím convinced Iíll fall to my death. Itís so imminent Ė frighteningly possible. I tug nervously at the rope, and whisper a desperate prayer that itíll hold. Drawing in a sharp breath, I shut my eyes, hoping itíll quell my fears. Whoosh. I open my eyes, and I find myself suspended in mid air. I breathe sigh of relief, and realize that Iíve been holding my breath all this while. A little shaken, I stretch my legs and shout to them down there (they really resemble ants from up here) ďReady!Ē And down I go. Iíve missed you, ground.
What day is it? And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time
Cause it's you and me and all other people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you
All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words
You've got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here
Just as you rush out of the some doors everyday, we rush into other things. Itís thrilling to run on adrenaline, living on the edge. Be careful, you might just topple off. Life feels like a quick game of Cranium, and you desperately roll the dice in hope of a purple. Choice Ė isnít that what everyone craves? You want to choose Ė but are you? You stumble over your own feet trying to pick Ė but whoís picking? Feels like a plate of sushi just travelling along the conveyer belt, waiting for Fate to take its pick. Will it be your turn?
Someone once told me a story.
There was a businessman, who was rushing somewhere. He hopped onto the carriage, and told the driver to go as fast as he could. After awhile, the businessman realized that he was going in the wrong direction. He then asked the driver, ďDo you know where weíre going?Ē The driver promptly answered, ďNo, dear sir. But Iím going really fast! As fast as I can!Ē
Before we reach, will we fizzle out like a bottle of coke which has been left out too long in the open? Will we lose our effervescence? Will you?
Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life
Itís never acute; itís always chronic. Symptoms pop up all over the place, but dismissing them seems like the most popular solution. Until, they pull all the stops and seizures start. How much does it take for one to realise? Between the fear and blame, we grow apart. You go left, and I stay right. And sometimes, I wonder why I came.
How do you save a life?
Where do you find your mojo? Where, do you find that little piece of sky thatís yours? Where, do you find whatís worth fighting for?
When, all you can do is to eye your disastrously cluttered table, and marvel at your self-delusion? When a halfhearted scowl at the pet fish is all you can muster? When youíre hoping for brighter skies. When youíre fading into oblivion. When delirium sneaks into your thoughts. When all you want is to curl up on the sofa and sink into the cushions. When all you hear is silence.
Where do you find your mojo?
Humans are just like mealworms Ė we always gravitate towards the dark. When we were in primary school, we used to conduct experiments in a quadrant, exposing mealworms to sun and moisture. Many a times I wondered as a child why on earth would the mealworm want to stay in a dark and moist place? You never know whatís gonna come up from behind and bite your ass, nor are you ever going to see how brilliant the world is, because you are shrouded by darkness. In retrospect, the light isnít always all good. Itís exhausting. Careful, you might just fritter away in the sun.
The meandering road is dotted with amber streetlights, and the traffic has thinned. She sat on the steps, watching the breeze tease the tree leaves ever so slightly. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath, trying to make the taste of the moment linger a little longer. The road sign, ďSLOW SLOWĒ seemed to speak strangely to her. The light beckoned, intoxicating. With her gaze fixed on that distant glimmer, she knew perfectly well why the incandescence of the night hypnotized her. Despite her reluctance to stay, she couldnít tear herself away, until her feet couldnít hold her weight anymore.
yingzi. says: anw. yu have a new blog! then the diary-x one? T___T was there a backup? yu better say YESH
Rng! says: yeah. thereís no backup. iíve a new blog
.yingzi. says: OMG
Rng! says: hai. i was never really good at this letting go thing
.yingzi. says: noone expects you to. except maybe yourself
It takes just a few simplistic words to unravel the wildly complicated mind. I never really thought about it; and.. well. Maybe itís time to stop. But Iím still driving. Driving at breakneck, and the world just whizzes past the window. But Iím driving!
Iím right. Itís one of those rare days where the sunís warm enough for you to brave the blustery gale outside just so you can soak in the sun. Everyone seems to be out today, desperate for a little warmth. Strands of conversation are peppered with laughter, and I warm my fingers with my cup of latte. Your fingers trace the circle thatís the edge of your cup. Your pleasantries are impeccable, but your eyes betray you. When youíre done with your drink, I can tell youíre not ready to go. The swing of the door tells me Iím right.
Strings of epiphanies and discoveries have thrown an entirely new perspective onto me, and I canít quite grasp it yet. All I know is, thereís an unusually instinctive urge to be fiercely protective. All I know is, I just want to hang on tight, but the blustering windís gaining strength. Hold on. Hold on tight. Many truths elude me now, and I cannot answer that anymore. Amidst the answers, I look for one that is true. Is there one? Is it the one? Are you the one? Am I the one? One Ė singular, solitary, unique. Would you call me on?
Mornings are particularly generous because they give you the opportunity to start again. Mornings are the best time for forgiveness, somehow. Thereís something in the rays of the sun that makes my heart slightly larger than what it was the night before. Itís altogether rather marvellous. Youíve a wealth of time at your fingertips, and the feeling of self-content comes seeping through when youíre eating breakfast in the morning; you imagine all the possibly marvellous things which might happen throughout the day. Even if youíre half asleep, the feeling of being past a yesterday just puts you in a mood.
Heís blue today, with a brooding gaze and pout, hesitantly staring into space Ė unsure and strangely reticent. Most days heís in a swirl of either blacks or whites, heís either up or down, yes or no Ė if thereís anything, itís laughter and mirth. Iím not here to save him Ė Iíve got too little in my life to add to hers Ė too little colour, too little truly good days. He grins as he walks up the steps, half expecting me to respond with a smile as brilliant as his, but I pretend not to notice. I donít have enough to give.
One can never run away from ageing. It's just like the gradual yellowing of the pages; you never knew when it started and when it'll end. Before you know it, you're grousing about desserts being too saccharine, coffee being too sweet. Truth finally dawns upon you Ė youíre a workaholic. The sight of laptops everywhere, just like hand phones. You finally understand what the others mean by "Gosh, I didn't have time to do that essay" and you finally know that you'll not win this. Not this time anyway- you're too busy trying to find your way back to the route.
Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess
This verse speaks strangely to me Ė it's been a really long time since. Itís been quite a journey, but weíve still got some ways to go. All I can say now is, Iíll be there for you, and come what may, weíll pull through. I know it Ė I just know it. Hold on, and weíll be okay. Hold on; weíll have a shot at seeing our dreams come true. Hold on, for yourself. Hold on, for me.
I don't know what people are talking about; it must be a wonderful feeling to wake up next to the same person everyday. To make coffee for two. To book flight tickets for two people, to argue over where to go on holiday, and whose fault it is when dinner's burnt. And who should drive out and buy dinner instead. On what brand of cheese to get, and to get pissed off when they keep stepping on your shoes when you go shopping, or running the trolley into you. Accidentally on purpose. Most of all, just to be with you.
After so long of escaping, Iíve finally come down to this.. All along, I thought I knew, but now I donít know anymore. I donít know Ė how do I put this into words? Thatís a question Iíve been asking myself a lot lately, consciously or subconsciously. ďHow to say?Ē or ďHow do I put this?Ē Iím slowly loosening my grip on language, with neglect slowly but surely prising my fingers off. What Iíve feared has finally descended upon me. Now, I can only live vicariously through lyrics. But, question is, how? Thatís the question. Life is a very tricky thing.
I canít recall the last time I felt so messed up. Itís been such a long time since I felt so vexed; frustrationís going to crystallize any moment now. I feel like Little Mr Messy now. Not in the place to be, nor happy, or even the least bit grounded. Itís as if Iíd suddenly lost sight of everything. Good intentions, without translating into a good outcome. Silence please, I wish to have this quiet time to myself. The bathroom might be a good place for this. Being unhappy should only be indulged in when alone. Especially in a bathtub.
I watch you guys, and it really tugs at my heartstrings. Your hearty camaraderie wonít last Ė and I donít want to be the one responsible for turning you guys into cunning little scheming brats. I gaze intently as you struggle, and all I want to do is jump in front and scream, ďDonít worry! Iíll protect you from the big and scary world!Ē Tell me Ė who nowadays feel bad for tuning someone away? Much less an atheist. Tell me, who does anything by whim and fancy anymore? Much less a whole production. Tell me, will you ever stay this way?
Reminders. Tiny little life-saver stuff which rescue you when youíre an inch away from hot soup. Thatís what mine did today Ė they brought back the reason why I came, and where I wanted to go; brought back memories of the past, and also with it the possibilities of our future. A future where I can finally declare that Iím not defined by anything, much less anyone. A future fueled by possibilities; fed by promise. Perhaps one day in retrospect, all these would be foolishly irrelevant, but today Iíd like to believe that it matters. They matter. You matter. I matter.
Peace is a pleasant surprise. I found it in the past week, in the most unexpected place. I guess you can only find it after a blowup, an explosion- youíre expecting another apocalypse in the hangover, but find peace instead. You find it in a storm, or in a teacup, whichever suits you better. Itís somewhere; youíve just got to look for it. Raise the carpet, rummage through the drawers Ė itís your prerogative. Iíve got mine. Iíve just clicked defragment on my disk for life, and now all Iíve gotta do is be patient, and it'll come. It will, right?
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