I don't like what I've become and I'm not feeling the way I should now.
To-do list:
1. sort out
2. feel more hopeful
3. do art
4. find someone
5. countdown
6. embrace
7. feel happy-ier
8. let my heart do some talking
9. try to save the environment because I'm sweating as I type this
10. get a mental rebirth
Showing posts with label Unspoken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unspoken. Show all posts
Wednesday, 30 April 2008
Friday, 25 April 2008
My Pillar
My pillar, where goes?
Where do I lean against,
where do I rest my back,
when I have a broken purple roof?
Do I rely on just any wall
or do I curl up in that familiar corner?
If you can't keep this refugee for a day
where else could she find her pillar?
Everybody needs somebody sometimes.
-Keith Urban's Everybody
Where do I lean against,
where do I rest my back,
when I have a broken purple roof?
Do I rely on just any wall
or do I curl up in that familiar corner?
If you can't keep this refugee for a day
where else could she find her pillar?
Everybody needs somebody sometimes.
-Keith Urban's Everybody
Friday, 31 August 2007
Lost
No, not the over-rated TV series.
It's my on-off state of mind.
I feel lost...
...and I hope to find myself soon. Who likes the mental image of oneself being a abandoned buoy, vulnerable to the perils of the great oceans, unsettling weathers and occasional life? It's liberty with no solace.
...but to find myself I first have to be lost, no? Or at the very least, displaced. That's step one to the hopefully colourful and finally rewarding self-discovery. If not, how do we try to find something that has never been lost? So I think.
I pray for a guiding lamp to appear tomorrow but the todays have never quite ceased to happen, and my lamp never quite arrives. Sometimes I rely on a twinkling star, that tries in all its might to light my path with it faint sparkles...but have darkness resume when my star burns out. What short-lived moments of grateful treading along this beaten path. Stalled again.
...and perhaps all this because of my self-doubt.
Father Time, you see my wallowing in uncertainty. I feel my hair lengthen already but what can you do? I understand that you have a worldly rhythm to hum to.
It's my on-off state of mind.
I feel lost...
...and I hope to find myself soon. Who likes the mental image of oneself being a abandoned buoy, vulnerable to the perils of the great oceans, unsettling weathers and occasional life? It's liberty with no solace.
...but to find myself I first have to be lost, no? Or at the very least, displaced. That's step one to the hopefully colourful and finally rewarding self-discovery. If not, how do we try to find something that has never been lost? So I think.
I pray for a guiding lamp to appear tomorrow but the todays have never quite ceased to happen, and my lamp never quite arrives. Sometimes I rely on a twinkling star, that tries in all its might to light my path with it faint sparkles...but have darkness resume when my star burns out. What short-lived moments of grateful treading along this beaten path. Stalled again.
...and perhaps all this because of my self-doubt.
Father Time, you see my wallowing in uncertainty. I feel my hair lengthen already but what can you do? I understand that you have a worldly rhythm to hum to.
Monday, 16 July 2007
I refuse to
Dear Diary,
They keep giving me the encouragement. Saying if it is, it is. Flashing the cheeky secret grins. Turning down my every offer of pessimism (or logic, I'd rather it be).
Such is the sweet optimism. From them. I love them for it but...
I've made up my mind. Or so I loudly declare...with a tinge of rejected hope beneath.
It cannot be possible. My mind finds it ultimately boggling, unacceptable that I should be encountering with that that I coveted in the yesteryears.
It may have been a yesteryear story but who can actually so blindly let go of something that has been one of the biggest influence to them? I meant to be able to but I guess deep down, I didn't want to. I loved chasing Cloud 9. I loved the contradictory feeling of wanting while acknowledging the Mission: Impossible. And bluffing to myself and the world that fantasy is sufficiently beautiful.
However, I think my heart is mended by itself. Life can be cruel in terms of lying to us using scenes of a fantasy. (Ok, maybe the blame should be on myself, not life.) I no longer get the melancholic feeling. And no more wishful thinking.
Maybe I am over it.
Maybe.
Maybe it's better this way.
They keep giving me the encouragement. Saying if it is, it is. Flashing the cheeky secret grins. Turning down my every offer of pessimism (or logic, I'd rather it be).
Such is the sweet optimism. From them. I love them for it but...
I've made up my mind. Or so I loudly declare...with a tinge of rejected hope beneath.
It cannot be possible. My mind finds it ultimately boggling, unacceptable that I should be encountering with that that I coveted in the yesteryears.
It may have been a yesteryear story but who can actually so blindly let go of something that has been one of the biggest influence to them? I meant to be able to but I guess deep down, I didn't want to. I loved chasing Cloud 9. I loved the contradictory feeling of wanting while acknowledging the Mission: Impossible. And bluffing to myself and the world that fantasy is sufficiently beautiful.
However, I think my heart is mended by itself. Life can be cruel in terms of lying to us using scenes of a fantasy. (Ok, maybe the blame should be on myself, not life.) I no longer get the melancholic feeling. And no more wishful thinking.
Maybe I am over it.
Maybe.
Maybe it's better this way.
Saturday, 14 July 2007
GOSH, this bread story!!!
Dear Diary,
OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH.
I think that was him. Really. I think I saw him.
And I'm sure he saw me. Definitely. He saw me.
After heaven-knows-how-long, I think I saw my senior BRAT. Gosh, but all odds are against that very possibility! Okay, perhaps not. Perhaps I'm just finding it inconceivable, still swirling in my denial.
Who knows, though?
It might really have been him.
Oh well. It's the bread story that is going to keep me pondering for the mo.
OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH.
I think that was him. Really. I think I saw him.
And I'm sure he saw me. Definitely. He saw me.
After heaven-knows-how-long, I think I saw my senior BRAT. Gosh, but all odds are against that very possibility! Okay, perhaps not. Perhaps I'm just finding it inconceivable, still swirling in my denial.
Who knows, though?
It might really have been him.
Oh well. It's the bread story that is going to keep me pondering for the mo.
Sunday, 11 March 2007
Ecstasy
Ecstasy
is when you talk to me
even when I cannot hear you speak
Uncertainty
is all of the one-way greetings
your presence on the other end: not guaranteed
Loyalty
the character of my heart
since the beautiful autumn of that year
Impossibility
rationale of my thoughts
that cruelly analysed the distance and gaps
Contradictory
are my heart and mind
a dreamy hunch against a stack of reasons
Sempiternity
is that of the inspiration
I derived from knowing you
PS: Having met you basically inspired life into the shell I was wandering about in.
is when you talk to me
even when I cannot hear you speak
Uncertainty
is all of the one-way greetings
your presence on the other end: not guaranteed
Loyalty
the character of my heart
since the beautiful autumn of that year
Impossibility
rationale of my thoughts
that cruelly analysed the distance and gaps
Contradictory
are my heart and mind
a dreamy hunch against a stack of reasons
Sempiternity
is that of the inspiration
I derived from knowing you
PS: Having met you basically inspired life into the shell I was wandering about in.
Saturday, 10 March 2007
O Young One
O young heart,
That loves so blindly,
For this,
Find me a cure.
O young flame,
That dances so brightly,
With this,
Exudes allure.
O young dream,
That floats for eternity,
Of that,
I'm quite sure.
O young mind,
That imagines wildly,
But then,
Take only what's pure.
That loves so blindly,
For this,
Find me a cure.
O young flame,
That dances so brightly,
With this,
Exudes allure.
O young dream,
That floats for eternity,
Of that,
I'm quite sure.
O young mind,
That imagines wildly,
But then,
Take only what's pure.
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