A scene of an elderly woman with a young child in her arms, of a homeless man roaming at the streets, of children running around with their colored shorts and sandals, playing police and thief.

It reminds me of a dream I once, I thought, I had. To shelter these children; to tell them, that the things that happened may not be only looked at the surface.  That there is hope outside the cruel, unfair world that you think you’re in. I thought of encouraging them, that life can be beautiful, as how it turned out for me. The missing piece of the puzzle can be found in Him. The hurts, the pain, the anguish of a void in your heart can be filled up. You just need to accept this gift, you just need to believe, have faith. There will be playgrounds, books, Disney channel.  There will be comfort, refuge, love. That they are able to start anew; to leave behind the burdens they have carried thus far, that wounds would be merely marks and not scars, and to walk on this path that is meant for them all this while, with heads held high, hearts reassured. The path may not be smooth sailing, there may be bumps and hurdles to trip them, the past may return to haunt them and hold them back, but nevertheless they will make it though, with footsteps trailing with them side-by-side. The storms will pass by and the sun will shine after, the rain will pour to place the rainbows in their lives. Their loved ones will be proud of them, their mockers with dropped jaws at disbelief and envy. They will be pioneers, they will be reformers, they will make a difference in the circle that they are in. They will bring much joy to the people around, to me, and ultimately to themselves.
That was my dream.

Looking back, I have this peculiar smile written on my face. I wonder where I got the inspiration from. Where that slice of passion did went? Has it been devoured by the very reasons that the dream was borne? Probably, I lost the very hope that I wanted to share so much. The missing piece I thought I have found, suddenly seems so surreal. Is happiness external, or primarily from within? Is it from getting what you desire, or being content with what you have? Does it have to do with Him, or is it really in the mind? I wonder if it is true, or it is just some mental deception. I wonder if life is truly beautiful, if rainbows do exist, if making a difference is really that important. That dream became faint, it blended with the distress that emerges from life itself. The very same life that I thought would impart a testimony towards the dream had caused the shatter of the dream itself.
Ironic.

Do I really need a dream? Why do I need a plan? They say, it gives direction. It’s to lead your life towards something. I have a direction that is not designed by my goals, or passion, or dreams. It is formed by a logical mind, not an idealistic mind. What if you succeed in something you’re not passionate about? What if you need to put effort in something you despise? That’s where it strains you. You suddenly wonder, if you can be in a place you don’t want to, yet find contentment in it. If passion, maybe, is not as important as you thought it was. If goals can be formed from rationale and not desire. If shattered dreams, should remain as it is. That we should just follow this existing crafted path, wherever it may lead us. It isn’t about wants, it’s about needs.

Maybe I don’t need it all planned out, maybe I need to stand back up whenever I fall from being weary, and just keep walking.

Little-Pizza

There must be a reason. There should.

I admire the general Jewish view on the Holocaust. Of course, it is much easier in one’s attempt to accept the concept of Theodicy if life treats you well. However, for that moment when it hits hard, it’s difficult. You lose your faith. You lose what you believe in. You lose trust. But these people are different. They went through massacres, torture, fear; yet they still pray at night believing that it was a test given by the Divine. How can that make sense? How do you trust in a formless being that He has it all in control in the midst of cries, gun power and blood? Even if the faith needed is as small as a mustard seed, still it would be hard to cough it out; when you don’t even see a dim light, when it pushes you to the edge, when it’s a deep pit you’re in.

They told me that there are reasons. They say He has it all in His hands. They told me to accept episodes without knowing. They tell me to trust without hearing, believe without seeing. I want reasons with basis, not reasons formed by abstractions. I question the sanity of the idea of faith. How do you merely grasp something so conceptual; something truly unexplainable? But, they believe in it, with all their heart. They formed in their minds, something they yearn so much. They feel safe, secure. They feel happy. Whereas the silly ones that doubt, we doubt the truth and sensibility of it all. Yet, are we happy? Are we secure? Would it be better if we just believed in something that doesn’t click in our logical minds? Even if it was mere imagination, a deceitful mindset that has no truth; you feel safe clinging to it; you feel happy. I question the importance of logic versus contentment. How important is it that it needs to make sense, than to it being able to satisfy our emotional needs? We cry, we call out, we seek for an answer that will never exist; unless we merely believe, give up logic to the benefit of doubt.

There are times I long for these answers. Even with the knowledge that I will never be able to get them. I need these reasons. I don’t understand. It takes away from me; strength, belief, trust. What meaning is left without these? Where would I find the spur to keep me holding on the end of a burning rope? Absurdity screams at me. It mocks, it taunts. It laughs at me. I stay here merely waiting for it to pass. Answers would never come. My desired-for reasons will never come. I know that. Because there are no answers or reasons to begin with. We search for something that only comes in the form of illusion.

And I wonder wouldn’t it be easier if I were like them? But I’m not like them. But one day, when I am drained out and given up this path I take, I will be just like them. And maybe it would all get better. Giving up on the uncertainties and doubts, for an answer that would never satisfy truth, but at least the needs of a weary person. Even if truth be known, it is an illusion that we believe in.


Little-Pizza

“It should be alright”.
I mutter these very words over and over again.

Please, it would right? You told me it would. You told me it would be fine. The anxiety will pass as we get through this phase. It will, indefinitely.

Time and again, it appears without caution. Like a sudden blow when you least expect it.
The signs are vague, but the brunt seems so clear. They don’t even seem to correspond.
Tell me that it will be soon. At least tell me it will go by.

I take it back. I refuse to accept what I’ve been deceived with. I persist to the belief that it’s untrue. I cling to a possibility that it’s a variable. I would. Really, I would. I’ll try.
At least, I can say; I’ve done what I could. I have done what I would.
At least, I’d be able to pardon myself.

Just let it flow. Just let it pass by. I’ll catch up, I’ll ride the waves.
And I’ll hold on to the very words you whispered to my ears.
Because I want to believe; I want to trust; I want to go through it, once again.


Little-Pizza

It's eccentric how emotions work. Or maybe just too immense.

I wished we had a remote control to play "happiness" or fast forward "sadness". Turn up the volume of laughter and mute the cries of our hearts. And if it’s too overwhelming for one to withstand, just hit the stop button and play a different tune. Why couldn’t it be that simple?
I wished it wasn't simply the cause of inducers; both that we’re better or worse off with. Something seemingly out of our locus of control. It doesn’t appear fair, not at all. Hmph, such pretentious thoughts that perplex one into believing that it’s okay. Heck, no. I don’t want to consent it, I don’t want to adhere to the decrees or nature. As if it is dictating us from the freedom of joy.

Emotions are often contagious. As though it transmits from one person to another.
It’s like how the atmosphere could almost instantaneously change because of one person that just isn’t in the mood that day.
It’s like how you would cry as a child when your mom cries, despite knowing why she was being emotional.
It’s when there’s a little Ms. Sunshine that never fails to ease you and lift up your spirit with her sweet smile.

It’s not simply due to a powerful sense of imagination; to put yourself in another’s shoe.
At least I believe there are other reasons that could explain it. A strong tie between the two, maybe? Somehow people are simply connected. I don’t mean either the “one degree” or “two degree” friendship, nor blood relations that seem to be overly-emphasized where it is said to be the mandate from God or fate; blood may mean something, but certainly not everything. Definitely, there is more intriguing basis to it. It’s like an invisible string that forms overtime. You’ll never able to physically see how frail or strong it is. It’s there, but never fully explainable. By some means, there’s just this part in the imperceptible part of us that link the hearts of people.

This vagueness scares me;

You’ll never know the degree this obscured attachment would affect you. How it may bring you to cloud 9, or drop you to the pits. How much impact it would stamp in your life. And perhaps I’m afraid it doesn’t influence me as much as before; what implications would it then be? What would that mean? Does the change in magnitude suggest an advance or deterioration? I really don’t know. In some instances, I rather not know; fearing that it entails a relapse – that I will lose a part that used to mean so much, too much to let go.
Huge fluctuations in emotions may mean lost of control, but it may also indicate a gain in significance. Likewise, stability in emotions may mean a gain in control, but it may also indicate a lost in significance.

Maybe I rather laugh till I cry, or cry till I laugh;
Maybe I rather have this ache inside;
Maybe I rather bet on the faint assurance;
at least I know that it still matters.

Little-Pizza