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Today is restful. It’s exactly the sort of day I would spend with you downtown, walking among strangers, gazing at the buildings, subdued by last night’s rain. The thunderstorm we both slept peacefully through, and left the stillness this morning in the wake of its passing.
You’re by my side, and the world is no longer so frightening. I’d not be lost, because I walk beside you, and the surroundings just melt away. We’re left alone and this world of muted shades, and it seems so much more beautiful this way.
This is for you.
I hope you like it.
I won’t mind just sitting there on my ledge watching the remains of the day fade off. Waiting for the clouds to retreat after a dreary day of rain. The sun-splattered windows keep my company, as I watch as the raindrops still making their way down the window. I’ve always known how painful it was to wait. But today it’s taking too long for me to bear. I sit and stare for a while longer, and whisper a silent prayer. I’ll be waiting tomorrow as well. And silently a raindrop makes its way down my face.
When can I stop?
Don’t talk to me about injustice. I know enough of it already. They’ve always taught me to be longsuffering. And longsuffering I am. Longsuffering and suffering long. Sometimes I wonder if all this will come to any good in the end.
Yet I know it’s my life and for me to live, and sometimes something good just pops by and everything is alright all of a sudden. And it’s the times like that I appreciate most, and in this light, all that injustice seems so much less cruel, even as one act of justice displaces them all.
Thank you Lord.
But very much still mine.
All these precious items of an age long past, in a future not known. I’ll look back upon them fondly, with the slightest regret that I never actually cherished them while they still sparked with life. Now within them is that life, once alive, but now dormant, perhaps never to wake again, a life that whispers secrets, a life that whispers stories you’ve never heard before.
A life that’s waiting to surprise and to enchant. Yet only a life that can do no more than that.
If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold.
Not lost, although I long to be
If any truth can melt thee Come to me now!
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
The human face a furnace sealed, The human heart its hungry gorge.
O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth's sleep at all?
But for another gives its ease, And builds a heaven in hell's despair.
I found you and I lost you,
His eyes had the certain fire to them. As if some unquenched flame had lasted ever since his childhood, leaving him with a vigour the world could testify to. Never heeding what everyone told him, he had his own way of doing things. His spirit had a life of its own - strong willed, steadfast, and undeniably reckless. But that was him, and he had always been like that. Life had never been too easy oh him.
And all that is left of that childhood are memories. Memories of a burning house, and some scars to tell a story with.
Take things a little different. Because somewhere, halfway round this earth, this isn’t a sunset heralding the end of day. On the other side, it’s a brilliant sunrise announcing the birth of another day.
Because today in the world, no one really cares about what happens on the other side. Because today in the world, no one realises that we’re all looking at the same sky. Because today in the world, we’re way too selfish to care about what other people think.
And somewhere on the other side of this earth, someone is thinking the exact same thing as me.
It doesn’t make sense you see. I should talk to him but I don’t dare to. He might find me mean, insensitive or even arrogant. It’s all coming out wrong. Things are not going the way it should be. He’s obviously making a bad decision, I want to stop him, but I’m too afraid too.
We used to be friends, close friends at the most, but now it seems we’re merely acquaintances. Everyday he gets a little more distant. He’s changed. He wasn’t like that last year. I want to help, but I don’t know where to start. Lord, help.
Because it’s more than this that time erases.
Because it hasn’t been the same ever since.
Because you can’t feign denial as happiness.
Because it’s not all that great as you make it up to be.
Because I know what it should be like.
Because things change all the time, yet some things just refuse to.
Because I know there’s a life and future at stake
Because there is so much more to life than just that.
Because you’re human as well.
Because you might not know everything you think you do.
Because I know it hurts.
Because, just because.
He’s been waiting for hours. It couldn’t be wrong, the intersection of the streets beside the park. But she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The skies were a shimmering blue, the sunlight filtered down through the excesses of last night’s rain clouds, giving the surroundings a resplendent yellow glow. It was a beautiful day to be out in the park, just lying on the grass and staring at the skies. It would have been a perfect day to be walking around downtown, if only she was there.
He stared worriedly at his watch, and left for home.
I can’t read you. No matter how hard I try, I can’t read you. You turn too fast. Every time I think I get you, you turn a new page and prove me completely wrong. Because you don’t let me, and you don’t care. I can’t read you. You’re a mess, you’re perplexing, you’re a quandary I just can’t get around to figuring out. You’re complex, and you’re changing. I’ll never find you out, because you’re not the same every time. Yet I’m trying to read you, and you keep me captivated – all because it’s so hard to read you.
Life’s too long to let it go to waste.
There’s everything to live for – the colours, the smells, and all the wonderful things there is. More to it than just living past all these things as if they’ve never existed. Don’t live until you’re 89 and suffer from last minute panic. The world’s not enough to contain around a hundred years or so of experiences. The world’s so much bigger than your microcosm.
Life’s too long to go to waste. Use it, there’s nothing to waste it on, unless you cut it short halfway. Don’t exist through life. Live it.
Tomorrow it will be all over
he whispered in her ear.
Tomorrow, I’ll stand with you on the mountaintop and we’ll watch the sun go down together. You won’t have to worry. I’ll be on your side forever. You won’t need to wait anymore by your window.
He sighed a deep sigh of regret, kissed her red, red lips.
He lay down beside her and closed his eyes for the last time.
He felt pain sear through his body, and a final breath on the lips that just minutes ago took poison for cure.
Sweet, sweet, Juliet. It’s over now.
He lives in paintings and she in books. They never knew each other, or bothered to. He lived in stories, and she, in pictures, he in words, and her in paint. They were only that far apart – as far as his paper was from her canvas. But they never meet, because they don’t care.
This is not a love story, because they never meet. It’s a story of truncated possibilities. This is a story of apathy, and a story of loneliness. This is a story that never made it.
This is a story, and it’s no longer ten words short.
Today was so relaxed. It’s like one of those days you feel like you could run a thousand miles, and still have space for more. The air was light, and the sunshine was basking this island with a lazy, cheerful heat. It’s those days you feel you could just explode into a multitude of colours in childish exuberance. By no means memorable, but just so annoyingly enjoyable. Like you could launch yourself five feet in the air with a wild, springy jump. Ahh, you wish you had more of those days you could retire to bed with a restful smile.
It doesn’t matter any more.
Because I’ve seen with my eyes the cruelties of this world.
I’ve seen how an innocent can suffer for nothing.
I’ve seen works of a lifetime taken and then destroyed for no reason.
I’ve seen the human soul crushed, pulled down, and restricted.
Because I’ve seen this world with my very eyes, I’ve known its ways and I’ve known its character.
Because I know it’s no point working my life away to keep this cruel place going.
Because it doesn’t really matter when I’m gone; the world lives on when my time is past.
I’ve been let down lots of time. It happened again, and every time I take a blow, it’s so much more excruciating. I can’t help but to hope. Hope for another chance, hope for a better day, hope for something so much more perfect than this. Because more than breath, hope keeps me alive. I have to wait, I have to desire. Hide in my little corner and wish that one day perhaps I’ll emerge with a smile.
But right now I don’t dare, because I don’t know what awaits round the corner. But, I can wait. And I will.
You realise after a while that the most beautiful thing isn’t love. Love is all mushy, head over heels and seldom down to earth. The most beautiful thing is reconciliation. Because it’s all so real. Two threads separated for months and even years, yet something brings them back together, and it doesn’t matter all that enmity or tension so many years ago. All that matters is that they’re back together. Because it’s so possible, it’s so real. The tears, the emotions – unhindered and unrestricted. It’s so touchingly beautiful, you’d cry if you were either one – lost, but found once more.
Running through the nicknames on MSN
that’s the way I’m lovin u
i hate people
Splinters and blisters
you still have all of me
This decade is not looking good for me
i promise i will smile
when will the day come
cryptoxcience will take place on wed!
evil deserves compassion
but send mail to my old one.
thoughts that wrapped around my head
meeting tmr morning?
I never lost what I never had
my head is a carousel
you got me wantin you
48hrs of damned irony
It’s one of those days you can’t get anything right. I just don’t know what’s going on with this life. It’s all so unfair and such. I can’t remember the day before because today was just so overdone with, well, everything. Emotions, work, whatever. I was so tired yesterday, I just couldn’t be bothered. I’m just struggling now. There’s so little time left before the year is done. There’s so much to do and frankly, I don’t think I’m up to the job.
It seems like such a long, long time. Then again, there’s quite a bit of work too.
Sigh. The past few days have been a disappointment to me. I don’t know how of why, everything seemed to fall apart. All so unfair, and I was that close. Everything I see is letting me down. People I know are just slowly revealing themselves. It’s quite unnerving, really. It’s told me that next year could probably never be a better year, tomorrow can’t be a better day. I’ve got to know things I rather not know – things I rather have myself stupidly believing. It’s a sad, sad world, and I guess that little conversation over lunch was quite enlightening.
Where will you be tomorrow?
The day has progressed, people have passed by. They’ve talked, and asked you to come along, asked you to follow. But you wouldn’t listen, being yourself as usual. Then you realised that we’ve all left you behind as the day progressed. You refused to listen. I lingered, I tried to soothe you into coming along. But you still wanted to do whatever you thought was correct.
You know, it pays to listen to what others have to say about you sometimes. Get out of that fog you’re living in and get moving. Reality check time.
Ain’t today’s weather wonderful? Haven’t seen such agreeable stuff like this for ages. There’s this cool, casual breeze outside, and everywhere is surrounded by this warmth of pale yellowy sunlight.
Probably an interlude to the horrendous weather we’ve been having the past few days. Can’t stand it. Yesterday was downright depressing. The thunder was playing the bass for most of the afternoon, and there was this spectacular light show which culminated in a bleak shower of evening rain. I was at City Hall walking around with some friends, eating stuff, it was quite fun, but I would rather have sated.
What’s the difference – it wasn’t any use that he could see right through you when you were lying. It didn’t matter that he was more perceptive than anyone else every thought him to be. It didn’t matter that he knew that it was all going to happen anyway. They hated him because they didn’t like what they saw. What blinded them had built a wall that separated him from the rest. It wasn’t anger or jealousy, it wasn’t envy or avarice. It was contempt and mockery. And it didn’t matter – not as long as they were united in hating him.
This comes shortly after I drew this sketch I titled 'urban anonymity'. I think I scribbled this down on one of the faces of the buildings I drew, but then again, I’m not so sure.
I’m lost in this mess of urban anonymity and slipshod conformity. Every narrow pathway I take and dark alleyway I walk down seems no different from the previous. The labyrinthian streets wind up and down to heaven and hell, and I’m lost in a sea of strangers each on different yet wearing the same mask of apathy as the others – lost in this giant city.
give me wings
and make me fly
then make me fall
and watch me die
give me legs
and give me chance
pass the floor
and then i'll dance
give me eyes
then set me free
make me blind
and then i'll see
give me time
and give me thought
but give me less
i'll give you naught
give me hope
and let me fly
give me chance
and let me try
give me dreams
and watch me lie
give me more
and make me high
give me some
don't ask me why
give me rest
and watch me sigh
She lags behind.
The whole family walks ahead: Father, Mother, and her two siblings. Chatting happily on a Sunday evening, walking towards another lazy location to have dinner together.
She lags behind.
They talk merrily. They laugh heartily. Blissfully ignorant of the dull paces of the little girl behind them, downcast, and left out from the family.
She lags behind.
She can’t hear what they say, but she sees them happy, laughing. She’s used to this and drops no more tears in the wake of this knowledge.
She lags behind.
Because they may speak. But she cannot hear a thing.
Read the sign on the door of the house. It’s been 23 years since he was here. Everything changed on the left side of the street. On the right, everything seemed as before. A juxtaposition of past and present opposing each other in a stolid stance – separated by just one street. 23 years was a long time to be away. Now that he’s back, they could be anywhere. Across the road? across the country? Across the world? Helpless, he stares around for help. It was a Sunday afternoon and no one was about the street. Two worlds collided.
Too far off to see you before the sunsets light the skies. Before the moonbeams pierce the darkness of the clouds, I’ll be somewhere distant fighting this war I wish not to fight. Killing people I wish not to kill. On my side, the only thing that lights the skies is the flare of the bombs on people that would die for no cause. The only thing that pierces the skies are screams and gunfire that would find it’s their way, both, into the hearts of men who dread.
That old lie,
Dulce et decorum est,
Pro patria mori.
Our parents have been reinforcing this to us since young, it’s not who you are when a thousand eyes are trained on you that matters. It’s who you are when all the lights go out. It’s who you are when the camera stops rolling. Who you are when the doors are closed. It’s who you are when the curtain goes down and the applause has stopped.
So I salute those who know who they are, in backstage, or on stage. And even more so, you realise those two persons – the backstage and the on stage, are the exact same guy.
This year October has been a whirlwind of events. Globally, and at home, it’s been turmoil, it’s been war, it’s been disaster and destruction. Yet even on this ghastly façade that this month has painted on the world today, there’s still so much exciting things going on, that just make the world so much more a beautiful one to live in.
It’s these little things amongst the wreckage of the world today that brighten up this dark time we all live in. It’s these minute achievements that slowly culminate into something greater.
November has a lot to live up to.
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