“There’s nothing much to say anymore.” I don’t know what happened. It seems like a piece of log, drifted slowly by a peaceful current. It wasn’t a storm, nor was it a slight bit of rain; so to my knowledge. You wake up one morning, and realized you’re now at the other side, gaining new experiences but losing what you had. Is this how it flows in life? Every month, or every day even, you move from phase to phase. Each phase so different, that it brings a fresh tone. Yet at the same time you lose what you had from the previous point. I’m not sure if I’d rather live in yesterday, or tomorrow. Familiarity does bring much comfort. But now, the familiar has slowly become foreign, and what I thought was foreign had become familiar. The phrase “you have to give up something to get something” seems very true, even for abstract matters like passion, goals, values, friendship, and love.

To substitute – is to put a person or thing in the place of another, or very similar to replace. Does this mean that we throw the old after obtaining the new, or is it to take something to fill in the void in you after losing the old? I don’t know. But each moment will soon replace the significance of a distant past, and the current will be replaced by an unknown future. I don’t know what it holds, nor do you. But this series of substitution makes me wonder: How much of today will matter tomorrow?

Substitution – I suddenly regard it as a word of disloyalty. But how could we find strength to be steadfast to a dream that disappears at dawn? But there are also those that can never be replaced. It just leaves, and we just forget. We stand up; we move on, we learn to live without.

And when the morning dew refreshes me and gives me new meaning, I want to stay stationed forever, and ever. I don’t want to forget this instant of relief and bliss. Do I have to move ahead with the uncertainties? – Yes. But do I want to? – Maybe not. I could stay in this ecstatic moment evermore. But today will pass as the dusk arrives, followed by daybreak. Just as how history repeats over and over; will you still be here, or have you gone-by?

Will you, in the future merely be a past, or will you always be a present?


Little-Pizza

http://psy90.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-birthday-dianne.html

You made me tear, again, in a good way. I'm getting emotional again.

Reminiscing about the past really made me wish I was there to re-live it all over again. No matter how silly we were, running around as though we were 5-year-old kids, lazing around when it comes to bath time, or just about anything, we were, in fact, really, really happy. And you were one of the reasons why I enjoyed my high-school.

Sorry for being all “emo”, I just miss you so much.  I miss how I asked you what is “6 x 2”, knowing very well the next second that it is simply “12”. I still remember the “what the heck” look you gave me. I miss watching anime together, making sushi that some-what succeed (I suppose for 14-15 year olds), playing Pictionary, cards, everything. I want to return. I miss laughing with you. I miss being young, and innocent, and that our only worry would be if we passed our History paper.

There are all these memories flowing through now.  Knowing that it is all past, somehow makes me feel a little sad, especially now not being able to see you as often as before. Probably there’s just this tiny fear of losing all these sweet thoughts, and how we are not able to create new moments due to restrictions that I just want to tear it all down.

Don't worry. I know, the past is past. The future is what we need to be optimistic look forward to. I just wanted to tell you that at times, Dianne worries as well, just like you. :)

Love you lots dear.


Little-Pizza

It’s these times that make you learn.

There are so many strings of thoughts going through the mind. Some brief. Some seems forever. Some vivid, some vague. Some that you tend to laugh about. Some that you rather not recall.
Each day, we have about 50,000 thoughts. Most of them merely sprint through your mind. But there are these few special ones. They make you smile, yet they make you tear. You remember the sheer happiness. You remember the pain and anguish. You wonder, what went wrong. You wonder, what went right. Sometimes, you feel like re-living it. Yet sometimes, you wished you could just release it. It’s there. You still hold on to the edge of it. Some here and there, from years ago, months ago, days ago. Sometimes, you may think you had forgotten about that fine strand, but in fact, it has not been; just buried deep within. And when you sincerely look at that string again, past emotions would gush over, flooding your soul all over again.
It leaves you a sense of significance. How you lived in a realm that did not just merely pass by, but left behind a token; that fine strand that signifies a chapter that was well mattered. Al least, it meant something. Just believe in that; you’d find comfort in it.

I kept looking at this one fine piece, of how much I missed it; and of how much I feared it would turn to dust. It held a part of me that I want to remember, but at the same time, a part I want to forget. I wonder what it would become of; just another bit of the bunch, or one of the few that is noteworthy. I fear the case would the first. I fear it was an insignificant log, like everything I put in was merely astray to the back alley. It just proves the idiocy of a person fooled by their own wants, like throwing yourself in a mirage, believing it was an oasis. It screams the worthlessness of one self. It screams the pathetic wail of desires that one engrosses in. It leaves behind a great slump in confidence, in assurance. It leaves behind frustration, and anger. Of all these emotions that destroys trust, and belief. There isn’t a reason, then, to put faith in, but to just stop believing.
 If only one can know, and believe, that it was significant. If only one knew not to deem insignificance due to the fear of a wound. A cut is not just there to hurt, or to remind of hurts. It is, but to remind of reason and of importance. How much relieve would it yield, how much meaning would it bear. At least to acquire this last bit worth and carry it forward, and move on.
But what if it was otherwise; that your perceived significance is only an image created by your own need for acknowledgement? That never it was intended to be real. What if that piece of strand is indeed just another one; trivial and replaceable?
One was simply fooled. No truth existed then, nor will one know why. Probably, there’s not even a decent reason, but one that is better off unknown.

That strand. There’s no way I am able to dispose of it. It had carved a picture within, something that you cannot erase with an eraser. I suppose burying it would be sufficient for now. Let it be buried deep that it may be difficult to encounter it again, by all means. Despite it through being ignorant, or to disregard, to detest and hate, or even thoughts one would not forgive oneself for. As long as you use all means, it will be buried deep; even if it’s by selfish means. To sketch a false image of another, allowing acceptance of your egocentric acts. Disregarding personal principles, disregarding integrity. You will be immune to whatever harm it could have caused. You will be protected. At least, you will forget. I will ignore, I will detest. I will hate. I will bury it, no matter what. Whatever it takes, if I am able to, I will.

I rather take a short-cut, even if there’s a risk for regret.
Forgive me, I’m just weary.

Little-Pizza

"There's no place like home," a quote from L. Frank Baum's fantasy The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

The last three months at home, was yet the warmest feeling I had. It’s like going back to my habitual life, seeing people that I missed and love, sharing moments that would be nailed in my head for a long, long time. It felt like huge open arms welcoming me home, ever so sincere and tender.

When I left home in January, I somehow did not feel like I was leaving as much, because I knew I would return in Summer. Now, leaving again and probably not returning until 2011, I have this sense of realization that I’m leaving; I’m really leaving. I’m leaving the comfort of my messy room, the luxury of owning a car, the most awesome food place you can ever find, the familiar nag by my Aunt, the customary music from my brother’s cell phone, the silly and funny questions my mum asks, the laughter from “bullying” friends; all that, and much more. This time, I just know I’d miss home much more.

Both me and Natalie agreed on the fact that we just don’t want to return to the lives as a University student, the fact that we have to return to a life full of lectures, tests, assignments; remembering what we went through in the last semester gives us a sense of weight to return, after having a taste of home. But well, we still have to move ahead. Who knows? It may turn out better than we would expect, hopefully.

6 months ago, that was merely a test-run.
Now, it’s the real deal.


Little-Pizza