Loveless

The Thought Of You

2011-12-24T01:24:00.000-08:00

It lingers around this head of mine. Your name, your face and all that I’ve seen you done. I picture you in a puzzle uncompleted, with no box to guide nor shapes on the sides to let me figure how to fit in.

Your thoughts, your revelations - a void between me and my life. Coy rejections and avoidance was your answer to my confession. Yet time and again you never fail to make an impression.

I always have this thought of a perfect woman who would made me fall head over heels for, but then I saw you. And it was your imperfections that stole my heart and soul.

Something always bring me back to you

2011-12-14T06:55:00.001-08:00

You are the hole in my head, the void in between this space between my thoughts and reality. Images of you haunt me in the recesses of my mind, shadowing all over me like the light I could never escape.

Somehow something always brings me back to you. The places we’ve been, the things we’ve done, the words you’ve said. I can’t erase the thoughts of you even after a year has passed since we last met… Whenever you flash across my mind those scars still bleed though my tears had ran dry.

Our conscious mind can process 16 bits of information per second, our unconscious however can process 11 million. Maybe that’s why unknowingly, I kept dreaming of you… But my dreams never comes true…

And I hate it.

Alone

2011-10-28T10:36:00.000-07:00

It’s been sometime since I wrote… And in this new chapter of my life, time just passes by so quickly. Fleeting like the wind, I could not even remember some of the things accomplished, circumstances and people met. In this string of coincidences and a little trick of fate, I met people whose life intertwined mine in situations less often travelled.

Yet in this sea of people, I felt like a lone sailor… Going wherever the waves take me. That’s why sometimes in the midst of all the laughter I sat by in my melancholic self. Wondering what’s happiness and what’s in the future.

Maybe I need some time to warm up to people, or maybe I’ve never knew how to be happy ever since love left me…

Or maybe, I just need someone else to change me altogether.

Estranged Past

2011-09-26T06:51:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing how a movie can bring back distant memories, memoirs locked away as the hands of time spun relentlessly. Each second tightening the screws to these chests containing the past, waiting, to be unlocked by a certain key.

Then this movie comes along, like a replay of your life in episodic moments. The songs and plot so close you could literally feel how the characters felt. It is then you realize you have already been absorbed into this vortex of the past. Reliving each bits and pieces of the past. But as the story reached its happy ending, you start wondering what happens there after…

And after the credit rolls, you realized that the seats beside are all empty and you are still all alone… Those songs of reminisce are just an epicedial of a broken past.

Happily Ever After

2011-05-07T08:31:00.001-07:00

I love romantic movies even though I have this weird pavlovian response to tear upon them. A 6 month to a year journey condensed into a 2 hour story. A depiction of our lives in different aspects and angles framed against perfect people. Some stories reminds me of the times I had and will never have, some filled me with possibilities of another romance. And when the credits roll it filled my loveless life with some light, some hope. Like how an ending will always have a snippet of the happily ever after…

But time after time, movie after movies, this tinge of melancholy never leaves me. Like this grey line between the black and white, between your once yes and nos. As my heart and soul let you go, and as the places changed and the world moved on. I tried to detach you from the very fibre of my being… I know I could never forget you completely, but I still try.

I shouldn’t be paving the present with pain from the past as I have to let you go. Because I know you will be living happily ever after with him.

And that’s where the credits of our story roll…

Photography

2011-04-21T09:14:00.000-07:00

Behind this lense, I see people in different shades of light. Emotions and feelings burnish through the expressions on every picture. People whom I’ve never met or knew, I stopped them in my memory, and eventually in this digital space of eternity. Intrigued by their momentary action, I closed my shutter and froze these images in my mind, in my camera.

In this masquerade of the human condition, I see people in moments they least expect, a moment, behind this camera of mine. As the 7 colours of light epitomize the 7 facets of the human condition. I put them together, one ray at a time. Hoping someday to find the perfect combination for myself.

In each picture, I connect to a different perspective. And as I decipher the different views of each individual, I began to understand them. Their feelings, their reasons, the very essence of why I wanted them to be part of my life and me, a part of their memories.

Photography is not just about keeping memories, but defining them in a way by showing others what I’ve seen. That’s why a picture’s worth a thousand words.

New Year Resolution

2011-01-02T07:45:00.000-08:00

It’s that time of the year again. When pyrotechnics resets the count back to 0, and we just reiterate what we’ve done year after year. We count another 365 days before all these get rehashed again… We rinse and repeat and then write the same resolutions to each new year with mendacity…

Every year is like an elevator ride… We move on, up and down, between places both new and old. Hoping for new things to happen, waiting to make a difference… But at each floor, we somehow already knew what to expect. That with each level stopped, we gained and lost some people. Some exit; only to come back again, some just left the building; never to be seen again.

Yet in this constant traverse between the ups and downs, between the strangers and familiar people I see in and out. There are times I kept pressing the next floor button in this psychosomatic belief that by doing so, time will move faster.

By then I had became so absorbed in this process I fail to appreciate the things these people have said and done. Until this banal process is over, do I remember a bit of everyone. But by then they are gone…

I’m tired of resolutions, I’m tired of things I’ve said but never will do. But every year, I still make these superfluous assumptions, that somehow or another, I will be assiduous. In this cycle of constant reverberation, I’ve decided to cherish whoever and whatever I have… Not because a bird in hand is worth 2 in the bushes.

But because I never know, when I will lose them…

I was wrong

2010-12-25T06:22:00.001-08:00

It’s that time of the year again. A time when customary offerings are entangled in this merry ambiance. When consumerism betwixt the embodiment of love and reciprocation. As I assumed every year would be the same again, that tidal relationships do not extend beyond places I could never reach. I was wrong…

I thought a platonic connection would far endure the ravages of time. I thought that you will be there perpetually, and that all those conjectures and mindless thoughts are just a cat and mouse games for others in our sphere of influence. I was wrong again…

You are just like them… And I hate it. I hate why in this myriad cliques of strangers, you are not different. I hate how you extend deep into me, only to let it all go… That your conviction with this bond we share has faltered

I hate and miss you altogether at the same time…

This Line Between Us

2010-12-07T08:04:00.001-08:00

Imagine relationships as threads and strings, it runs down your bed, through your door, to your car, to the city and through all the people that encapsulate your daily habitual customaries. It brings you to places, to memories, to feelings you thought you’ve never felt before.

These strings weave and wove, forging relationships and anything along these heartstrings… With each thread pulled, our heart spins like a spool, twining out trust and a piece of ourselves with each circumvolution. The more we spun, the more we reveal our inner self, till we are able to find someone who could see the whites of our spools, someone who will eventually venture into our inner recesses. Even though we know at some point these strings will snap, we kept weaving. Searching of that someone whom we can face with no reserves. Someone whom we will truly open up to… And in between we colour the lives of others and ours as we became the seamstress of our own destiny.

And when the time comes, we either find that person or lose them altogether… Though the threads of fate have severed, but what ever has been woven in my heart remains. As we tied the knots to the end of our relationship, I know it will never be the same again.

Cause and Effect

2010-12-02T01:44:00.000-08:00

As lightning tears across the casted skies, the heavens cried… Mourning my loss and filling this void in between… As this ache in my heart swells with each torrential pour I found myself driving in circles. Like a boat with no sail and rudder, I lost all sense of direction.

Somehow I just can’t accept the fact that she’s gone from my life. Just a few days ago, we were still the best of friends, and days after it all crumbled down like a house of cards. Maybe it’s fated, maybe it’s providence, maybe it’s just never meant to be…

In her vivacious discourse, lies anger and resentment… There is no redemption, no excuse, no forgiveness… All that’s left is just acceptance…

Cause and effect… That’s how the world works… If only I could have more control over the cause…

Losing a Best Friend

2010-11-29T20:35:00.000-08:00

It’s amazing how the heartstrings between one another could turn the world of each other upside down... That deafening silence, cutting through this vessel of mine, each stab piercing nearer to the edges of my heart… I’ve felt this familiar sensation before, that pain and ache so close to making me become heartless again. So that’s how it feels to lose a best friend… It feels so much like the same of losing a loved one…

That unsettledness within me grew with each passing moment… Maybe she’s just a dream, just a pebble in this river of time from where I have been swept. Just as this stream of fate intertwine our lives, it tore us apart. In this eventuality, even a friendship couldn’t withstand the ravages of time. For it just takes one wrong to lose someone so important in my life…

Even if I’ll become nothing to her, I will still remember her… For she’s always here in my heart. I’ve made a promise… A promise to her, that I will become just a nobody. Just as how we’ve started from nothing… For that is the last thing I could do, as a friend…

As these echoes of emptiness resounded within me… I know my life will change without her here. In my life…

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul… Then my soul must have been flooded with tears of pain and regrets…

Non Existant

2010-10-14T09:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I feel like I would disappear the instant I close my eyes. The feeling that I’ve turn into someone that even I don’t recognize. Someone so small, so lost.

All these traces of loneliness, I tried to conceal in a smile. All these lies that made me falter… It’s just me losing my self slowly… I chose to come here, a cage which I’ve locked myself into. And now there’s no escape, no redemption. A meaningless struggle in this conscious subsistence, I’ve left all that’s left of me. As time seeps the life out with each breath I take, all that’s left is this tinge of melancholy.

Amidst this drop of time that ran dry, are the lies I’ve torn apart. What’s left is this shroud of darkness engulfing me… This thin world of darkness… Like I would just be forgotten… Like I’ve never existed.

If Only...

2010-09-28T04:33:00.000-07:00

If only I hadn’t loved before, I wouldn’t be so miserable. If only love doesn’t exist, I would have been happier. If only…

More often in life, we end up regretting the chances in life that we had, but didn’t take. Than those chances we took and wished we hadn’t. In this life of cross roads, there are no traffic lights, no directional lane, just empty junctions. We just move with the motion, in this sententious subsistence, we just keep moving, turning when our instincts tell us to. And sometimes you just get stuck in this round about…

I find that when my mind is riveted with work, I began to think of these senseless thoughts less. Thoughts that have no impact nor reason to who and what I am today. Thoughts that are all over this blog. A sacrosanct where little knows me, knew off…

If only there’s no love, I would probably be the happiest man alive. Or maybe not…

A Beginning

2010-08-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

Everything seemed familiar yet new. New subjects, new classmates, I even got new clothes for this winter’s end.

Everything is new except this foreboding stint of emptiness… Maybe everything is not that new afterall…

Here I am again, lost in the light of the moon that tears the dark into day. Gleaming across the horizon is a place I called home, a place 8000 miles away. Bathed in grey, the walls of my memory divide the thoughts from the past. I am just in between this cabalistic world, just a shadow casted by these walls of truth… I languish in this world of grey, waiting for something or someone to colour it, or I could just stay at this stop and wait for things to fade to black.

I’m not anywhere near the beginning… For a ‘beginning’ is just a state of mind, a valence of a pseudo cognition.

Change

2010-07-19T02:53:00.001-07:00

I’m always amazed at how the human condition changes… Perhaps that’s why I am so keen in finance and marketing. The idea of how people define themselves never fails to escape me. There are times we thought seclusion were best, and at times company heralds. But there is never a superlative form of existence, because we change.

Is it the fear of loneliness that causes us to search for those we’ve lost? Though we could not see their form, we do not give up because we believe. Believing that one day they would come back to us. In our dreams, in our thoughts. In whatever trepid states of despair or inebriation.

No one knows their true selves even though we both lose and gain by embarking on this long, journey. Even though there may be days when loneliness strikes and makes us weep. We should transform those tears and pain to a light like a candle to illuminate our tomorrow.

Farewells may be unavoidable, yet the seasons continue to change obliviously. Even if I lose myself, I will continue to walk… That’s the one thing I’d like, never change.

Estranged

2010-06-10T02:06:00.000-07:00

Estranged in this world lies a foreign man, a man who knows not even in the slightest heartbeat that he’s alive. As the muses guide his soul in life, time became nothing more than mere tickings of the clock. For he lives not in the present but in the past that had long forsaken him…

Yet in these memories he held ever so tightly, they just tears him apart with each waking. Like a broken recorder, snippets of past plays vividly in his mind, sometimes with the oddments of other imageries he conjured.

Though tears would form, he knows better that such despondency is just superfluous. For he’s just waiting, waiting for that right person to come. That person who would make him step forward again…

Or maybe he will never move again…

Lest I Forget

2010-05-10T17:53:00.000-07:00

At some point in life, we start to doubt the sincerity of people, we start to doubt fate and all the good things that happened. Maybe it’s the venal concept of evolution and the doctrine of cause and effect in it’s finest. Or maybe we just grew more skeptical in this Darwinian evolution.

Forgotten is the word, in a reverie spawned by one’s self fulfilling prophecy. In this congregation full of life and people, I felt this stint of emptiness overcoming… Everyone has a story, and I always thought mine was larger than theirs. But we are all no different from one another, not in any sense nor notion, not in any way nor another. Beneath our skin we each belong to a separate universe, a void in our human condition that encompasses all our emotions… Emotions such as grief, anger and happiness. And as each universe collides, we feel this tenderness of emotion in different forms and magnitude.

We are just lost souls in pain, looking for someone or something to numb the ache. Though I’ve never told you this, but I’m here because I want to forget you…

Still In Pieces

2010-04-10T04:02:00.000-07:00

Are we strangers in this space? Reaching out for a dream unknown… Wrapped in mysteries, we walked down this winding road. Stranded in places we hold so dear, afraid of all the new tribulations that has yet to unfold. Yet many of us pressed on to find the eventual happiness and ever afters.

Even after so long, I still yearn for a life that never would be, a life that’s a distant so past away. Did I actually move on, or am I still a stone in this river of time? I know she has moved on… Everyone has… Except me.

I thought leaving everything behind is a consign to oblivion, that giving up is also a way of loving you… Still… I miss your kiss, your mischievous smile, I miss your warm embrace, and all the things you did to make me complete… After so many years, I still can’t believe that you are no longer here in my arms…

Broken and still in pieces, I am no better than I am, when I started all these writings… and I thought, I should just keep on writing…

This Moment

2010-03-14T16:47:00.000-07:00

Reminiscing the past and the present that is yet to evanesce, 3 disparate people stuck in different dimensions of emptiness, each so distant yet synonymous. Then it struck me…

Why do I fall for women who are not possibly any good for me?

As a matter of fact, all the girls I fell for are pretty wild… They were free and uninhibited… It was like having a mythical creature to myself, someone so wild that could not be tamed but admired. Like a hunter on a tag and release basis, I could never hold onto love. In this world that shades of grey, love is not red, not for me…

And in this venture of finding a vessel for my heart, I found only pain and regrets. But however broken I may be, I have to move on… There is no room for selfness, no room for weakness, not in this world, not at this moment…

Soul Symphony

2010-03-08T07:18:00.001-08:00

You remind me of love, a picturesque name in all it’s beauty, the apotheosis of an angel in which even your alias define. Till it all ends in an apostrophe, I should never even attempt to apothegm nor even think about how it will even continue…

Time and again, people slips pass my fingers like the sands of time. Long have I last decided upon the concept of singularity, yet in this constant motion of reunion and separations are the familiar strangers in between. Strangers whom I could only name by face and nothing more.

I expect nothing, and that’s how it should be. Because, you’re just a beautiful symphony 5 keys down. You are just another familiar stranger in this effete desert of mine.

I have nothing more to give, thus I shall receive nothing…

Emptied

2010-03-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

I’ve been playing a lot lately in a bid to forget about the past. To create a diversion in this transition between the then and the now. To try and find an accompaniment to this monophony.

Sometimes we hope to miss someone and in turn missed by that particular somebody. A heartstring tied even till world’s end. With forlornness turned into strength and this strength into a force that persevere even as hopelessness draws near.

Now I have no one to think of anymore. No more love, no more missing someone, no more photographs by my bed stand and no more long distance calling. Maybe it’s better this way, maybe this is what it should have been all along…

Love is just a superfluous emotion in this dense mosaic of human populace.

Never Ending

2010-02-23T11:45:00.000-08:00

Why is it like this? A constant of pouring… Where a stream of consciousness becomes a river. Which a river of thoughts impinges a tear. When I’m drowned by the notion of just your name…

I thought it would end, and that my heart would empty. That time will make me stronger with each blow dealt in between. That all the pain would bled off completely. That I would finally feel peace from all these precarious relationships.

Instead of this never ending…

Sad

2010-02-21T05:11:00.000-08:00

So much has happened over this chapter in life. The pages short, but the contents divine. Like a book you could never stop but to keep on reading to the end. Now that all is said and done, I could finally put my heart to rest. For I don’t know if I were to ever love again.

As time evanesce like the evaporating tears I cried, I know it’s time to let go… These feeble emotions that weakens and distract me, these broken thoughts and things within me… They shouldn’t be here. Because some things are never meant to be…

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times people call this man cold when he is only sad.

The Longest Night

2010-02-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

I never thought a broken heart could still feel so much pain… As time abates the life out of me, a second at a moment, I begin to fall apart. Everything now made sense…

A part of me died, while another part of me understood her choice. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t hurt as bad… But still, a broken heart should just remain brokened… Like a broken mirror, the more you try to piece them together, the more cuts you get…

Sleepless nights and endless sorrow, a soul inveigle into believing that love still exists was killed by its own reverie. For it should have never loved again… Because without surmising the thought of a happy ending, it will never be contused again.

A Dandelion's Life

2009-10-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

How close are we in this ever expanding universe? How much self do we preserve at the eventuality of all things? At the end of the day, how much do you remember me?

We are like a dandelion’s life, ever flowing with the winds of change. Scattered across the many other places and people are the remnant pappus floating in their minds. We stay and play a part, even in the slightest instance. And as time went by, lest we forget, we keep them in pictures called memories… However overtaken by the circumstances that engulf the greater change in self, we will still remember everything that’s past a certain point in time…

And as I look back in time with her, it’s all coming back to me… The small and big things, even though the distance separates, the wind brought her back… With these pappus of serenity still runs deep within me, I can’t forget her…

Fallen

2009-08-30T09:13:00.001-07:00

Fallen hopes and sculpted angels, vacillating between the incarnate and fey ones… Thru thy smoldered reprise, fragmented thoughts lie beneath each moment in time. Each pieces smaller and somber, expanding into a vast nebulous of brevity.

As the world oscillates akin to my thoughts of you, is your world turning towards me? Or has I cease to exist… Your signals no longer spark of interest, your voice has long ebbed away in this noised recollection. As time flows away, so do you… You seemed like a reverie, a beautiful dream, and as such dreams, maybe it’s time for me to wake up…

Whatever has happened I do not know, but whatever has yet to happen, it’s coming clear. It’s just that your indifference is killing me ever so softly….

People

2009-08-23T10:02:00.000-07:00

As I see stories unfold, revelations past beyond my point of vicarious definition. Broken ties and severed relationships, only to form new ones and blossom like the change of a new season.

People come and go along this journey of life. Some stayed on, some moved on, and the closest we will ever have is our family. Yet in this yearn for happiness, mine has betide… Even if it did, it never lasted long enough.

In this world where everyone loves a happy ending, there’s not one… For life never ends, until you stop breathing…

And I held my breath…

I hope you wait...

2009-08-20T10:26:00.000-07:00

We all live in disparate moments, separated by the now and then, the this and that. In this gap of vacuous serenity lie just the memories of us. We are all connected someway, somehow and in this ever changing world, how much will you change?

As I fought against time, I hope you wait. For waiting is all I need you to do. I could comprehend the forlornness, and if you ever doubt my heart, just remember that it’s always been with you ever since the day I left…

I can’t wait for time to pass me by, to finally see you again. For I’ve decided to wait for you no matter how long it takes...

If you left today, I would walk an eternal spiral until I found you again. And if you changed your name, I would fall in love anew with whoever you became.

All I Need Is Your Voice

2009-08-02T07:42:00.000-07:00

In this distance we separate again. In this place where nothing about you ever lingers, photographs are what kept my heart alive. Even as your smell evanescence along with the wind, even as your voice fades into the noise of the crowded streets. Each night before I sleep, I see you, I saw us… And that’s what keeps me going…

Today I finally hear you again. Even if it’s in the slightest moments, your voice just brought me closer back to you. I want to feel that everyday, but I know that time is not a luxury to you… At least not for now… I just need to hear you, to aver your existence, to reaffirm that you are not a dream, and that we are real.

To love is to give unconditionally, without any reciprocation, without any gratitude. And I will keep on giving as long as I’m still breathing.

And as long as you don’t break this heart of mine…

Forgiveness

2009-07-03T09:00:00.000-07:00

I exist in a state of oxymoronic aesthesia - finding beauty in the juxtaposition of conflicting thoughts and forms, enraptured by the implicit poetry of literal improbabilities.

Stemming the tide of the humanist convulsion. The hemorrhage of reason and thoughts amidst the torrential emotion; anger. Actions misconstrued, words irreparable, bonds broken, unremedied mistakes floating about like an endless nightmare… Just as time cleansed us of our follies and sins, the revelation of the inexorable truth lays bare.

It takes strength to forgive just as it takes strength to say “I Love You.”

I believe everything should have a closure, an end, especially relationships...

Yes, even broken ones…

A Breather

2009-06-25T01:38:00.000-07:00

The requiem of time sung by the ticks and tocks. Am I closer to who I am to become, or further from who I want to be? Will fate close the gaps of uncertainty or bring me to another state of fluency? I ponder...

I came back in search of answers, but only to find more questions... Irrelevancy struck in accord with the spurious mind. Eventuality is never what one imagined, but one precedes. In this temporal reunion, I’ve only wanted one thing and nothing more... I just wanted your time, but that seems to be the hardest thing to ask for...

Time makes the heart grow fonder... It happened to me... But did it happened to you? I wonder...

I need a breather... I need to escape from here and there... To escape to a place where nothing ever matters.

And that place, is when I stare right into your eyes...

The Strangers

2009-06-08T09:43:00.000-07:00

In these choices I make, and the paths we invariably crossed. I got acquainted with the strangers I once passed by. The degree of separation amidst the density of population, succumbing to the flinch of mere coincidence or the perpetual work of fate; I exist…

Across the billions of statistical possibilities, across the continents that bind the Earth into one, yet in this quiescent vicinity we decree. Where lines of destinies intertwine, crossing paths in various directions, we subsist along the subsets of fate. Meeting and knowing the various characters that will change our lives forever.

At the shores of the dream to another world, you are the very reason for me to stay. The anchor of my soul to this very place I called, home…

I’m coming back…

That Call

2009-05-15T10:10:00.000-07:00

As each day passes, I find myself getting closer to seeing you. Yet with each second, I find us drifting further apart. In this hectic rota ensuing our lives, we spoke lesser. Everyday I thought of calling you, yet time and again, you’re never around.

In this solitude of an eternal linger, nights like these just made me think of many things… In this melancholic silence, I waited every night for that call. And every time the phone doesn’t ring…

I know it’s you not calling me.

Dreams

2009-04-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

Things remembered amidst the space between slumber, things forgotten when one is awake. Where the deepest laters of memories become the outmost layers of memories that in turn become the outmost layers of one's dreams.

Which is reality? Which are illusions? One cannot tell amidst the languor upon an awakening. Yet in this lassitude are remnants of the past dreams and memories.

Or perhaps they are: At the same time, both truth and fiction.

A vast nebulous with no boundaries... An emptiness equivalent to my own existence. I dreamt such a dream... A never ending dream... And in this dream I saw you…

I saw us.

Solo

2009-04-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

Solo

A singular entity mimicking the flow of time, in a constant drag against relativity. All thoughts and form, coagulates into a stream of endless circumvolve. A depiction of time in it’s endless dilemma, ticking into moments of trajection atop the numbered face. And as time unwinds… The Earth begins shifting…

Shift

Reflections of self, shadowed against the planes of life. What we see is not what we get… As we shift along the sands of time, we grow into a different perspective. Some shadows larger than ourselves, some conquered by our dislocation, yet they are all conjured by our own thoughts and imagination. No matter how taunting our past might silhouette against the now, it’s all upon the shift of ourself to conquer the then… As life fades to cessation, all that’s left are just two colours. White and black.

Two

The amount of movements at any one time. A dual plate against the balance of everything equal. But there is no egalitarianism… In this double edged sword of humanity, ideology separate us. But dreams and anguish bring us together. We are all just pushed into the circumstances that evolve along the prior and latter.

Push

Moving through the salient seas, against the waves that push us back. We build bridges only to cross them and burn them behind us eventually, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered. We are here not because we choose to, but because of the limited choices we are given…

And it ended…

I Miss Her

2009-04-09T10:33:00.000-07:00

I’m beginning to take things as they come, paginating each day and thoughts upon the leaves of expired time. As I pined for her on a daily basis, the only solace I could seek, was the photos of our past. Frozen bits of time, thawing at each reminisce. Conversations and messages, archived at the vicissitudes of various conjectures.

There’s so much I want to know, so much I want to say. But amidst the distortion of time and space, the closest we could ever be, was through the sonant quaver of digital remoteness surmised within the span of an hour, or less... Sequestered by the vast expanse of distance in kilo miles yet connected by just a few numbers.

Echoes of her resound in my head… Dreams of her brought me closer to where I once was and where I will be, and as our last touch still tingle at my fingertips. Rekindling the sparks of every single moment… I see her again… I just hope she remembers them like I do.

A hundred thousand miles away, how can I let her know that I missed her more than any words could ably say…

My Remedy

2009-03-26T08:43:00.000-07:00

In this life, we connect. However briefly, however fleeting. Across thoughts and various other forms. We remembered each other through the songs that bind our memories together… Time became our test on fate, and distance the strength of our faith.

At times I get back to my room and closed the door, unsure of myself, unsure of what to do, unsure if my decision to leave is even logical. Amidst these incessant questionings, I falter. Along the chain of thoughts, giving up has became a real option… But every week, she gave me strength; she says it will be over real soon and that each passing day marks a day closer when we will finally meet again.

Every week, I would seek solace on this day…, When I could finally hear her voice again… For she is the remedy to my soul, to save me from all these madness and caliginous thoughts…

Deathology

2009-03-16T07:12:00.001-07:00

Is the ideology of death itself, and each of us believe in different deaths... But most religions state that there will be this higher cognizance after life, and that we will transcend to another realm, freed from pain and the seven sins. I’ve always believe in this soul anecdote... I’ve dreamt about such a place, and the realism of it strikes me deeper than anything...

Especially when someone or something around my sphere of influence needs to define it, in someway or another. Everyone of us have a set of ideology on death, clouted by the the proliferation of information. Even as we are literally dying ater 20, we each hold a different perception of death… Be it a pet, a friend or a family member… At times we thought we are prepared to face it, but we aren’t… We are never prepared to lose anyone or anything, in whatever form death might come.

I’m not that morbid as this entry sounds… It’s just that death is just a process. And like happiness. It’s never about the end, but the journey that matters.

We are going to die anyways...

A Photo From The Heart

2009-03-04T06:57:00.000-08:00

I gave her my sights, my heart, my everything. In this place where coincidence could never occur, I could only make it happen. And in this accuracy of time, I got her where the zone of 2 continents collide.

Under the same moon we gaze, beside the window we sat. Yet in a different country we exist, the closest we could ever be, is only through the radiowaves of an eternal reverberation. As her voice touches me upon the quaint remembrance of subtlety, I felt right at home again… As I share with her the sights of my journey, I sent her a photo that meant something to me…

A photograph is a secret about a secret, it is a thought in a story; an eternal memory. And the more it tells you, the less you know. And in this secret between us, is a message from me to her that’s worth more than a thousand words… Perhaps she could never comprehend, but when she sees it, I know she will smile… Because it’s a message that’s only meant to be felt...

I Read You

2009-02-23T06:12:00.000-08:00

Your hurts and worries - carefully framed and angled against the light, that the shadows might spill just so. Your happiness and laughter written out in vivacious discourse, buoyant and sanguine.

Your anger, sharp and jagged against the page. Clinical observations and heated opinions. Brazen revelations and coy confessions.

Your disappointment, deep along the oceanic trench. Where even a diver like me could never venture let alone comprehend.

I read you in these things. In these thoughts you share. I read you and I guess - for guessing is all I have. Like trying to reverse engineer every raindrop in a hurricane - to discern the glorious colour of the butterfly's beating wings.

I read and arrogantly imagine I have some sense of you. However remote. However imperfectly perceived. However distorted by language and distance, by your inscrutable aspects and my implicitly flawed assumptions.

I read and I believe that the quintessential part of you that extends out here into your facebook and those other places where our lives ever so briefly touch - is knowable. Is something real on its own terms and however you choose to define it.

I’m not addressing your problems, because I don't really know them. But I know you - and you are wonderful. Broken and wound down at the bottom of a pool but still totally wonderful.

You’ll pull through this and all else. I’m sure of that. You’ll preserve when you need to and let go when you have to. And you don't need to hear any of this, I know.

But maybe I just needed to say it.

The Distance Between

2009-02-19T05:42:00.000-08:00

Miles and continents apart, across the seas and sands that separate, lies the ligature of a mutual need that bound us together… Through the space between the time lapses of a geographical distortion, we managed to find each other in the midst of a thousand waves.

Connected through fiber optic wires and a wireless correlation, our thoughts collide. With each word, she grows closer to me. Yet with each thought I miss her more than ever. In this gap between my heart and reality, is a sacrifice I must endure… A pain that’s so acrimoniously acute - yet saccharinity runs through it, like the very blood that flows through me.

No matter how subtle, how vague. I’ll be reminded of her as she is of me… For the distance between people is not measured by how far they are from you, but how close they are in your heart…

Away

2009-02-17T08:09:00.000-08:00

I surmise time is but a measurement of our presence, a measurement of other’s presence, and a measurement for all things present. Be it a thing or people, relationships or animals, it somehow changes all of them in one way or another. To good or bad, from present continuous to past tense, they all change in time - Eventually into the irrevocability of conclusion and full stop… Yet in this trajectory change of no return, are the things we fail to see and realize…

Though the evanescence of time has brought me to accept this twist of fate, I find it a blessing instead. Freed from the heartstrings chaining me to this place, I’ve decided to seek a new life somewhere. Away from my friends, away from the succor of my comfort bubble, I’ve decided to move to a place where no one knows me… A place where I will start with a clean slate, a place where I will never lope into agonizing things like memories. That is until before I met her…

Anchored by the affections that bind us, I can’t confess my sentiments to her due to my moral conscience. I want to be selfish, but I can’t… Because she is the best thing that has happened to me.

This saccharine taste of love… These moments between the now and then. In this silence between the distance and universe, in this momentary lull in the speck of a thousand glimmer. I’m telling you that “I Love You” in silent consonants…

You can’t hear it – But it’s there…

A Week Before Departure

2009-02-12T07:39:00.000-08:00

A decision solemnly decrees; a ripple effect extends through the future. Opening up new doors and closing some. In a path I now regret in modest, time became the only thing that could attest my resolve.

Nothing is a constant in this capricious fate. In the strings of sentimental baggage I left behind, the heaviest lies in this new found affection. I try to check them in, one at a time, only to find that some remained unsent, and some could never be sent... In all these mixed sentiments, I’ve decided to just let everything fall into place when the time comes...

In this twist of fate, I’m besotted. Within the span of dates, I’m infatuated. Though I’m leaving soon... I know I could sleep better after knowing her. For I now have dreams, instead of nightmares...

Envy

2009-02-02T10:27:00.001-08:00

A moment in time; a lost confession. At the end of everything lies nothing but cupidity. Barren of all hopes and thoughts, I still linger around the gates of sanguinity. In an attempt to open the gate, I only found more locks instead...

The irrationality of a thing or emotion is not an argument against its existence, but rather a condition of it. Yet in this ever losing battle for coherence, I find myself biased against what I want to feel from what my mind tells me. In this war between logic and intuition, analysis and feelings, I have lost control in choice.

I no longer judge as impartial as I did. I no longer exercise fairness. I no longer seemed to have any more common sense...

Envy is a sin, I plead guilty for...

No Filler

2009-01-24T01:36:00.000-08:00

We gain and we lose and vice versa and whatever. That’s change. That’s just the concept by which time acquires definition. Energy collected and transformed and released and collected again.

We are "this" because we are no longer "that". Because the universe has moved on. Because everything occurs in this fateful transition. Between seconds, between people. Between then and now. Between now and whatever comes after.

We aren't just moments scattered far and wide across space and time. It’s only our fragmented memory-sense that makes it seem so. We aren't individual photographs. We aren't 24 film frames per second.

We are every event of our lives and everything that happens in between. There is no filler. Then, now and when whatever comes after: we are this...

...and this is everything.

So Near Yet So Far...

2009-01-16T19:56:00.000-08:00

With the nearness in time, I stood aloof. Peering through the multitudes, hoping and wishing... Yet as time passes and each riposte breaking both the latter, I find myself repudiating all optimism...

Some things are best left unsaid, some actions are best forgotten. Yet in this craziness, I hopelessly hope. Only to find myself getting less marred as immunological resistance built up along the endless balk. Perhaps we have run out of fate. Perhaps it was never meant to be... For so many times, we are so near yet so far...

The closest I could ever be with her, is to be at the same place at the same time, but she doesn’t knows I'm there...

And it’s killing me...

Crestfallen

2009-01-14T06:14:00.000-08:00

Crestfallen, heart’s asunder... In the twilight of every passing day, I try to remove a piece of love in me by breaking down my vessel with fatigue. Until every fibre of my being is freed of emotions, and ache becomes but a dominant sensation.

Pain is but a condition, forlornness is just another ineffectual consciousness. Brokened is what sums it all...

Shattered against radio-shadows. Dead planets and specks of stardust loomed titanic through lensed distance and incalculable perspective streaming in light years. Washed out by sun flares and electromagnetic radiation, any remains were nipped at by gravity wells. A failing fragmented signal. Some final dates unanswered. Some past promises unfulfilled. Now lost forever in the chasm of universal facade.

Everything is taking a turn... Gyrating down the spirals of fate...

I just hope to see her again, at the other end...

Anticipation

2009-01-10T17:11:00.000-08:00

A heart half filled, half emptied yet brimming with anticipation. It makes the mind go mad, and logic senseless. As I lose grip to realities and perspectives, my mind plays back the fond memories. As I try to feign indolence, the worst came... I would rather feel pain once and for all and let my heart vanish in the void of emptiness than suffer such incandescent anticipation...

Yet time and again, hope refills like a free flow night at the bar, only to evanescent at the heat of each morning sun. Expunging from my system are the unrealistic dreams, unfulfilled expectations, fantasized thoughts and many other beautiful things. I want to find a way to forget it all, to revert back to being a loveless soul. A soul devoid of love and emotions, at least it felt better that way... At least time passes faster... At least I could sleep...

But somehow I wanted an answer or a closure...

Is it love? Or is it just pure infatuation?

I can’t decide anymore...

Festivities...

2009-01-05T06:52:00.001-08:00

First there is Christmas

I think more people kill themselves at Christmas time. It’s something to do with fluctuating end of year profit margins and the ironic loneliness of high density living in a culture of strangers and social affectation. The rising costs of expectations and the presents within...

Like how Thierry de la Villehuchet had committed suicide amidst the Madoff scam, like how phone calls to lifelines sky rocketed around this period and anti depressions are a hit among stores this season.

Christmas is not as joyous as we see it to be...

Then comes the New Year

In the midst of creating new resolutions we dissolve our previous ones in procrastination. We decided to achieve this on the first of January, but it was never done by the 31 of December. We write the right things but done the others, we inject our sense of optimism in, even though hard facts tell us another.

Year after year, we rinse and repeat, in hopes of realising our beatific resolutions. And year after year, we fail spectacularly once and again, and again... And again...

In this new year shuffle of numeric distortions, I’ve decided to stop resolution-ing and just live my life as it takes. Just like how she came as a surprise into my loveless void. I’ve decided to use the “one step at a time” approach this year round...

I’ve decided to just live and let love...

Fates Collide

2008-12-23T10:50:00.000-08:00

Fates collide, emotions defined. In the midst of time and space, I thought I had long forgotten how it felt like... To be remembered at various interval, to connect however densely on a daily basis.

I thought I will be able to leave here, without any hopes or reason. I thought I am just a hunter on a tag and release basis in this thing called love. Where I could only catch and not possess love. Where everything was just as fast as I had caught and let go. And just as I thought I had ran out of ammo to be in this game of love. She appeared and made me realize; love is not a hunt, it’s a chase. A chase against time, in relativity... A chase to cherish whatever moments we are left with. No matter how short, how fleeting...

As each date passes by, I find her closer to be who I want to be with. As we connect across the radio waves of text and voice, each wave reverberates us closer. Closing the gap of anonymity, bridging our expectations, weaving an understanding ever so personal, only we knew...

First Tryst...

2008-12-16T10:34:00.000-08:00

It’s amazing how our thoughts can change with the people we meet. No matter how brief, how random. As each day flips through like pages of a storybook. Lines and paragraphs counting down to the end of each page. Unveiling new characters and plots; revelations which we have no control over.

Among the lists of characters we meet, are what defines us. Friends, lovers, allies and adversaries. With each, comes a different theme to our story. A vicissitude to an unchartered tale. And among the many we’ve met and lost, are the special connection that binds us along this high density living.

Each line of fate, weaving upon another to reach out to each other. And as this great tapestry of fate wound through time, our lives intersect with other lines. Creating the fabric of providence, meeting the people that could change our lives...

With just this one determining moment in time...

Our first tryst...

The Last Word

2008-12-09T08:04:00.000-08:00

The end is a word, and that’s the way it had ended...

A poignant perversion, the travesty of love. Once part of a great legion of works, in eventual catharsis. Enchanting as it sounds, as eluding as its spelt, it is just an amalgamation of pre conceived ideas along the lies of emotional congruity. Love...

The acquiesce of a fissured bond, split literally between the physical expanse of various others... Laconic argot phased and paraphrased into obeisance of a different kind. Our locution meant nothing more than just consonant waves fitting astride the convivial ambience. The farthest anything has ever gone is the barrier of an eternal stillness. A wave indecision at near infinite attenuation. Broken...

A blithe indifference, in modicum sensibility. The last glimmer of the human matrix as all things are rendered useless and broken. Nightmares became just reminders of the dearth in hope and will. Time is just poisoned along the evenness of death. Life as an entity has lost all intendment, varying into the stratosphere of emptiness. Gone...

Love... Broken... Gone... There is nothing left, and that’s how it should end...

My last word...

Alone

2008-12-04T08:50:00.000-08:00

These few days I find myself staring more at still waters than starry skies. Asking more of the what not than what if’s. In an attempt to adjure angels, I spawned demons instead. And these demons are past abominations, drowned along into the still of time, now only to be back into the abyss of my mind.

I find truth in deceit, life upon death and among the various antonymic conjectures; I solemnly swear. I am not infallible. I have down times and up times like a rollercoaster, I have times when I write simple and times I go in riddles. Then there are times when I thought my predicament would be worst of than others, and that it had imploded into a global endemic. Even I admit that’s not how it should be...

As my mind screamed through the inner core shedding the skins of my emotional sore. I closed the gaps between the void of my soul in writing. I find this close amidst the openness of everything, and realise this is perhaps my only chance at salvation... For there are too much things on my mind...

Things that have no meaning, no impact upon who or what I am. I don't even know why I have these broken things within me, inside my head. But I have to record them anyhow - because I have to tell them to someone, someway, somehow. Because I need someone else to know. To maybe, possibly, understand.

Because I don't want to be completely...

Alone.

Cerebral Seepage

2008-12-01T07:48:00.000-08:00

These few days I find my mind wandering more and more from the places it should be to the places it wants to be. I find myself waxing, with greater frequency, as my thoughts ebbed and flow down the ripples of eventuality. And I looked back and wonder... Why do I still think of such broken things...

Sometimes I'll catch myself mid-sentence, about to explain how I believe the global population explosion has rendered the communal consciousness not only incoherent, but totally dangerous and dementia inducing to anyone who hears it. How the uber-thought now makes no sense, leaving us without a prevailing zeitgeist and thus no soul. How recurrent exposure has sewn corporate symbols into the fabric of comparative religious sense, raising golden arched effigies and bespectacled antichrists asking: 'where would you like to go today?'. How the eventual demise of businesses became the genesis of an economic triage.

More and more I wonder if I'm doing everything I could to stem the tide of global erosion. If I am fighting the system from the inside - or if I have really gone native in the land of the enemy. If a stint of social sabotage or paradigm terrorism isn't in order to reaffirm my position as an avid seeker of the long lost human spirit. If playing the everyday zombie hasn't sucked away my lust for karmic redress and sophoclasm...

...and then I'll come back here to you and realise revolution can start with a few simple keystrokes.

Time I Have Wasted

2008-11-20T07:59:00.000-08:00

Tree trunks grow bigger each year by adding a new ring of growth. It takes place in the cambium, and the amount of rings is the measurement of a tree’s age. It is only after death that we could count those rings. Humans grow old each year by adding a year to their age. At the end of our lives, our bones will be the only remains as the only indication of our age... And it is only after death that we could really determine our exact age; down to the very millisecond.

And inbetween, we try to remember ourselves as the second hand unwinds. The notion of numerical remembrance blurred to the stage where calculations has to be done to remind a self of time. Diffusing the right with the wrong, happiness from sorrows; in an attempt to qualify the chapters at each vicissitude, we use such flawed words to remind ourselves how we felt. Until we ran out of it, until we could no longer find a different word to depict these assortment of emotions... Until eventually we are obtuse by our own scales of measurement... And we just stopped one day; trying to understand how we felt...

Presents, celebrations, party and cakes. They are just economic arbitrage upon the disparate soul - A provisional gratification upon the faculty of thought. At the end of the day, the fad dies out, and you just find yourself older by the year...

Today is a reminder of how much time I have wasted, of how long I have existed... I don’t want to be reminded of such intricacies but the numerical reverberation somehow reminds me otherwise...

A Bad Hair Day

2008-11-12T08:26:00.000-08:00

A belief is not merely an idea the mind possesses; it is an idea that possesses the mind. In this myth there lies neither truth nor fiction. Conjured within the mythology of this loveless void is itself, an idea... An idea wherein lies my profound comprehension of the human condition...

I assert human dignity and our capacity for fulfilment through reason and mythical methods. Yet every single individual is an antithesis of each other; one way or another. This is not really about others after all... After a year of writing, I find this ideology more than just a fleeting emotion.

In every one of us lies another us; a person that feels dejected, rejected and abjected. You may not admit it, but in your sub conscious, you acquiesce halfheartedly to this other self. For we are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves. And over time, even the face forgets what to do facing a certain emotion.

At the end of the day, there is nothing you can really do. Maybe comb your hair a few more times? Add some make up to cover the impalpable lines of flaw? Smile when you are happy, sad and every other sense? Sometimes we just do needless things to reassure ourselves and the people around us...

Mood...

2008-11-06T08:44:00.000-08:00

One of the deepest and strangest of the human condition is the mood which will suddenly strike us perhaps beside a pool at night, or deep among the sloping meadows, the feeling that every flower and leaf has just uttered something stupendously direct and important, and that we have by a prodigy of imbecility not heard or understood it.

There is a certain poetic value, in this sense of having missed the full meaning of things. Quagmire into the materials of life and failing the big picture. I see myself as part of a system so caught up in the covetousness of everyday living, that I had failed to realize the allusion of it all... In this factious decorum, I have long veered past the sedated state of melancholy...

Such pulchritude, such coruscation, such intoxicating allure just interests me in so many levels... There is beauty, not only in wisdom, but in this dazed and dramatic ignorance.

Finishing...

2008-11-02T09:30:00.000-08:00

No one wants to finish what they start. Like love. Like life. Like spending time being with the person you like. I think I wrote these somewhere before, but I just can’t help repeating... It's the malaise of the human condition: Everybody wants forever... But nobody wants to wait that long.

This is all finishing. But I’m finding it exceptionally complex to finish the finishing of it. What if it never stops ending? What if there is no final, full stop? What if after years, I would still be back to this place, with this similarly faint emotional remembrance? What if love will come back to me after a year of detachment?

What if it just keeps collecting exponentially around me? This colony of brain cells I call a mind, accruing cluttered thoughts eternally. Filling each space with gigs of memories in some hard drive in a rundown consciousness at the wrong side of my mind.

There is no sense in it. There never was. Writing it down didn’t make it easier to deal with. It made other things. Conjured different demons. Created a cosmos of thoughts akin to nothing real. Things said for the sake of saying, and I try to make it as approximately close to my thoughts as possible...

I don't reflect here. Here is not an image even remotely indicative of me. I don't know what "me" really is - but it can't be like this. Or can it? Surely there is more form to it? More pattern? More reason and acuity? I mean how do you even portrait me after reading all these entries...

Who am I kidding? My head IS like this. I write as I think and that's why this should end. Because having a record of it, however imperfectly distorted, still hurts sometimes.

I am coming apart and I am tired of describing it to you. It’s best to let your mind finish - What you think you knew and thought of me.

Words...

2008-10-25T10:18:00.000-07:00

I'll try to fail spectacularly in an attempt to succeed...

I find metaphors in the now and then from the eventuality of those here and there - but all words are bad metaphors. All words are vague descriptions of the amorphous thoughts that flow through our minds. And we are imperfectly describing what we actually mean when we decide to commit those thoughts to anything as fickle as language.

Even though I have to. Even though that's the very basis of communication. Of society itself. Language has and always will be the weakest link. I say "this" when I really mean something that "this" roughly resembles. You'll respond with "that" when you really mean whatever approximates a response to what you misconstrued as my intent, when I used "this" term.

And the degrees by which we are moving away from what we really meant, continues with each imprecisely proximated response. Until we are no longer dealing with the original ideas - but instead wrestling with the intricacies and nuances of language itself.

It all fails the macroscopic concepts. We use archetypical words like "love" because they are the closest approximation we have to a broad range of concepts and emotion. That is a major flaw in the human condition. One which causes more heartache and false-hope and even more emotional destruction than anyone cares to fathom.

I've stopped writing here because the hypocrisy of it cuts me like razors. Because explaining the problem is obscured by the problem itself, and that I should probably leave it as it is... I strive for semblance and failure is my success.

Like how love should be... No matter who, when or where... I try to the best of my ability to prevent myself from loving... Ever again...

Somehow, I think I’ve failed once more...

Love...

2008-10-19T09:50:00.000-07:00

When alcohol becomes a remedy to a broken conviction, all that is left is to expunge the sobriety out of a person. To numb the pain with trickles of inebriation, like worries flushed down the faucets of reality. Heartstrings soaked in wine and sinful eye candies, with smiley facades the only asylum to keep the forlornness within.

Once I was the person in front of me. Now I am, the person facing the past me. I never thought such a day would come back full circle to me - To shine light upon the lovelessness of another. Hypocritical admonishments the only solace to a broken heart, presence and company became a tranquilizer on drip to a loveless soul, rendering it still and keeping it sane a drip at a time.

Brokened hearts, shattered dreams, splinters of the mirror shying back at me... When a connection detached between a man and a woman, this became the eventuality... It is times like these, I pray that I do not fall in love again... For love is a condition falser than the vows made in wine.

Because when I drink in love, I sink faster than you can say gravity...

Love and Lust

2008-10-15T07:54:00.000-07:00

Love is the mental condition in which a being finally feels affection for another. Lust is the physical condition in which a being finally feels attraction for another. And to feel both at the same time is the molecular ordinance of the human condition.

Between the relationships we share with the opposite sexes, we draw invisible lines in which we prevent ourselves from crossing. Lines guided by the ruler of principles and morality. Lines in which different people draws differently... Yet some exceeds the boundaries of others, crossed by the lust and their selfish desires. Like how one could become a third party, wedging themselves between two others. Fissuring the trust between them and leading to the eventuality of brokened hearts.

I strongly believe in karma and that Lerner’s Symmetry Theorem also applies in the deeds we’ve done. Thus, I draw lines too, in an ocular bid to keep me in check. These lines conspicuously separate love and lust, friends and flings. However when circumstances changes; I alter them to suit the course of fate. Erasing and realigning these lines of segregation in accordance to changes and societal norms, evolution and the ever widening openness of humanism.

Love is just a thin line between fornication and communication. I am human, and being the quintessential man... I do stray from the lines.

Old Songs

2008-10-11T10:05:00.000-07:00

Why do old songs make us reminisce... Is it because of the cultural gap between the genres of the past and the present. Or the impossibility of a time warp to a previous generation, that we have missed yet yearn to participate in a way or another.

I like old songs, oldies that could date back to years before I was even in liquid form. The work of past artists, glories of ashen flames, I live them back one song at a time. To place myself back in time where people who are old are young again, to an era of black and whites, to a time where the music players we now epithet are called gramophones.

I transcended time through the verberating portal of music, and lived the present with the hymns of the past. Pop maybe the genre I grew from, with each songs charting a different place in my life. But these old songs, they came before even I exist. They reminded me not of the phases in life, but how each song portrays an emotion so close and nostalgia. That even after a few decades, I could even relate to what it meant...

Science

2008-10-04T08:56:00.000-07:00

Science tells us that ice floats in a body of liquid because tiny air bubbles make it bouyant.That density is measured on a numeric scales and that the higher digits will offset the lower numbers, and that the molecules structure of frozen H2O is lighter than that of a liquid H20.

I think ice floats because that is the optimum method by which my Vodka and Redbull stays chilled on a hot day. That it is the ultimate pleasure of going into an inebriated staid. That this mixture of bitter sweet concoction resembles the closest to life I've ever tasted. Probably, literally, and drunkenly...

Science describes the principles which order the universe - but it is only through practical observation that those principles acquire any implicit structure and meaning. That's why I've never studied science, it never made any sense to me...

I Am Melancholy

2008-09-24T10:44:00.000-07:00

I believe that everything has a soul, even an item so superfluous such as a receipt. They live in everything tangible, obscured and quiescent. Lying there, absorbing every moment of our lives as if it’s their only sense of subsistence. They are the essence of life, a living legacy ready to evanesce and disperse into our thoughts to invoke the lost memories...

These things; they are the spiritual embodiment of emotions through the passing of the space time continuum, a living thought amidst the passage of past and present. And when we pick this “thing” up and reminisce, it threads into our sub conscious, pulling every bytes of memories it can find associating it with this “thing”. When our mind finally process the thought, reliving the snippets of our pasts... We find ourselves crying or laughing, at this end in time.

The nostalgia of dejected heartbreaks, the end of a love lost not to death but a social divide. Bleeding from the broken mirror that I tried to piece, I can’t feel nor find pain anymore, for melancholy has overtaken my state of mind...

I am melancholy... Which is like happy for deep people...

Photos

2008-09-19T09:45:00.000-07:00

Primitive people believed that the camera will capture the soul of a person through the window that connects it... But I believe that it is time that captures the soul and greed that corrodes it. And that the camera is a time piece, a matchless instrument in the stoppage of time...

Flashy lights, frozen moments, time broken into bits and pieces, literally. If humanity were to define eternity, photography would be the closest we can ever achieve. For it is what we had lived and lost that time acquires its definition. And the commonest we could ever come to stopping time would be to frame them behind a glass and hang on a wall or archived into the albums of past illustrations.

As I try to stop time like catching the raindrops of a heavy rain, all I could ever hold on to are the remnants of the past. Evaporated particles counting down to the end of the day, cascading memories rushed in torrents through the disparity between each finger. What’s left are these images; the only prelude to all that I have and could ever visualize.

As days and months passed by, I looked back at all the past portraits, and I wonder...

How is it possible that one could miss a person to the point of tears...

Armageddon

2008-09-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

In this dark world of Necropolis, clouds overcame the sun’s radiant light, the bull that once rallied has been devoured by the bear and darkness engulfs the spectrum of every mind and thought. Rumbles of tremor can be felt at the outskirts of the cities as the news sets the mood on the moment of despair. Leaders of greater force braced for an impending Armageddon, no matter how futile it might be.

Men dressed in dark clothing, coats and flashy tags mourned in the front of the plasmas and LCDs drenched in the seas of red, in this part of the world we call Asia... Sharing the same sentiments along many others chained to the ripple effect of globalisation. We bled not through our gelatinous cage, but through the numericalness of our lives. We mourned not for the deaths or tragedy that is isochronous in this world, but for the demise of conglomerates and banks.

The end of the humanity is at hand, not by god’s will nor Mother Nature, neither is it by a plague that ends all breathing. But the devastation of a system we humans advertently crescent.

At the end of day, we have only ourselves to blame...

Tomorrow the bloodletting continues...

Ambitions

2008-09-11T09:42:00.000-07:00

Exchanging our time for the pecuniary satisfaction of this materialistic world, we adhere to the doctrine of “Money can buy happiness”. Or at least somewhere along that line. Some of us work for the subsistence of our loved ones; for the better future of our next generation. In the process to become a slave to the economy, we try to find a balance in doing what we like with what we have no choice in... We try to find something closest to our ambitions and we work around it. Eventually to realize what we started out to, or get stuck in the middle of a gratifying paycheck.

At times, I would debate within my sub conscious. About the endless probabilities in future, about the limited knowledge I have, about finding a way to do what I want and living the life I want. Though careers and decisions do change along with the hands of times, my dreams and ambitions never change. Some of those in my sphere of influence love the arts of culinary, so they chose the path of being a chef. Some others shares interests parallel to mine, thus the decision to be associated with a bank. While some prefers the logical explanations science can endow them, hence the resolution of being the next Einstein. Then there are also some of those who want to be the next Rambo, and joined the army and pledged a few years of their youth to the government. I guess the saying of “Everything will fall into place when the time comes” does exist.

Articulating ambitions into words is simply too hard, for I could write a million and one words, yet I still could not fully convey it. Thus there are such things as “Jobs”, with less than 10 words, it recapitulate our aspiration into a universal motif.

I Drink...

2008-09-07T02:03:00.000-07:00

I drink and I drank and I keep on drinking. Until I cannot place myself exactly. Physically. Psychologically. Socially. Emotionally. Morally. And this I confess.

I think I am drunk. But I prefer the term to alcoholic. I drink until I am nothing and no thing. And less. And lesser than that. To the eventuality of nothingness. In entirety, I planned to drink this world away. To drink another world in. Through a rush of sensation, one gives to the other, until I can insinuate myself inebriatiously through the osmotic portal. Into a world of giddy delights and softer consequences. Into the world of fuzzy visualizations and indistinct avowals.

I’m good at it. At being drunk. The semi-liquidise existence of a professional verdant. I can be more drunk than anyone has ever been, ever in the history of everness - and still I can drink more. For I have plumbed to the highest depths and aspired to the lowest pinnacles of inebriation - and am none the worse or wiser for it. It is who I am.

And I drink to confessions that beg no forgiveness.

Coffee Bean Girl

2008-08-30T10:33:00.000-07:00

Swept away by you, my mind has turned my senses to you. I looked at you, and yet ironically diffident of your reciprocation. You looked into me, and that metaphysical monologue within fades into oblivion. I slipped into the mode of transition, between the thought of you and the quandaries with me. But by the time I’ve realized, you have already stolen my heart, my mind, and everything that embodies me.

The void between us is just three tables away, yet the mental block feels so insuperable. I am no longer the player I used to be, and the skills of the trade have long ebbed through the brokenness in me. I wanted to speak, yet my mind could find no words to illustrate my infatuation to you. All I could do was stealing second glances at you - though you caught me red handed a few times...

As relativity sets in, you left. Leaving your possessions behind as you walked towards me. And as towards transfigure into passing, the molecules of air you infused around has reached into my ambit of smell, basking me in that tantalizing scent of yours. On your passing you gave me that grin, that playful, seductive beam... Is that an approval of sanction or what? I contemplated for the whole day in circles thinking about what I should have done and not did. Even as I write this now, I couldn’t recollect my self, my thoughts and anything else that you have stolen from me...

We never knew each other; Damn, I don’t even know your initials. The only thing I knew is that you are the Coffee Bean Girl at the corner seat... I remembered how you look like, and I hope you remembered me too...

The Coffee Bean Guy at the entrance seat...

Random Walk

2008-08-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

Often we predict what the future may be, like a gamble upon pure luck with the chips of time. We bet them on relationships, on education, on work and the eventual self realisation. The perpetual wins and losses tallies in intangible forms, for each chip used are a lesson gained. But most of the time what we betted on greatly deflects from cards of reality, for life’s a Random Walk.

I muse and ponder, reflect and deliberate; upon the wide array of endless possibilities. And I came to a conclusion that the doctrine of, “Everything will fall in place when the time comes” is more than just a theory. It is a force working its way through time and actuation. Falling in unknown places are the people and circumstances orchestrated by the many other individuals... With each of anything changing the course of everything and the eventual place we will be when the so called time comes. Through the inconsistencies of many, it ultimately comes down to a stasis of equilibrium, and we name it reality.

We ask question on our future and take assurance from others on how bright and correct it may or might be. In the end, only to come to this realisation of self. That our future is shaped by our present actions, and not the macro dialogues of corollary disposition.

Life is written by actions not alphabets, that’s why most books are penned by people who have acted...

Lovelessness

2008-08-23T13:10:00.000-07:00

I came down with lovelessness – read the symptoms – discovered that I had loveless syndrome, must have had it for months now...

I wondered what else have I got; searched up on the net – found, as I had expected, I am heartbroken too – curiosity calls. As my interest of the human condition sank in I became determined to sift it to the bottom, and thus started alphabetically...

Read up on atrabiliousness, learnt that I was ailing from it, and that the acute stage was far from over. Balefulness, I was relieved to find, I had only in a modified form, and as far as that was concerned, I probably will get used to it... Cheerlessness I’m in, with several complications and depression, probably the only medical term, I chronically seemed to have contracted since nativity.

I drudged conscientiously through the remaining twenty two letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got, was love.

Money Does Make The World Go Round

2008-08-15T08:15:00.000-07:00

I usually don’t write on a consecutive basis, but the revelations of this day have brought me to this understanding and thus, back to the screen of this window of thoughts. The understanding that money does make the world go round...

From the day I started to understand things and learnt how the world works, money always had the power to assuage the troubled minds... From family members to close friends, it never fails to work its magic... Perhaps that’s why I’ve chosen the path to understand the complexities of this sinful spell, and hopefully the power to wield it.

With a middling pecuniary strength, there’s only so much I could do, so much I could help. Everyone has their own story to tell. Yet I always pondered on the poignancy of my own story, as if my story superseded all of theirs. But once I realised I am part of this whole plan in life, I started to feel obliged to help in any way I can, unconditionally...

I thought with will and determination, everything would fall out well. Then I try to find expiation to redeem myself after I am unable to deny my instincts... That there is a limit to will, the limit to this world in which everything is closed.

Price Of Life

2008-08-14T08:53:00.000-07:00

We pay and get paid in this life, in a cycle so tenacious no one can break. A cycle that involves time and currency, moments and numbers – The price of life.

Every day we measure people and things in prejudices and biases we don’t even understand, from the social affectations to a person to the very basics of human consumerism. Even the policies the government adopts and advocate, every single dollar transmitted through the plastic cards we unknowingly expend, lies the fact that a valuation has been made. An indication of a price we are willing to pay for this life.

The valuation of choosing time over money, people over time... We trade the seconds of each day in an attempt to build stronger bonds with people we want to be with or continue pursuing our materialistic dreams. And in this process, we have placed a price tag on almost anything or everything... The valuation of people epitomized by the gauge of time, the monetary measurement of the things we eventually buy. We have pasted a price tag on everything around us in incoherent numbers we could never comprehend, even if nobody has been honest enough to own up or admit to themselves...

Individually, we make decisions to place a price to our surroundings, our lives, our time... Like a quiet getaway to a remote village at nowhere, where we implicitly place a value on peace and quiet. Like how being fat is never an inheritance or a genetic disorder, it’s a life style choice. And we pay for vanity by the pain and the discipline of opportunity costs.

However when we make any of these decisions to measure anything, we probably don’t come clean to others, or even ourselves about the price we have put on our environs, our lives, our time...

This Moment Between Strangers

2008-08-10T09:17:00.000-07:00

Somewhere between the strangers who turn into us, and the strangers we inevitably become - are the lives we occupy briefly and imagine to be the whole of ourselves. We step into the realm of others only to leave in a moment - hardly appraised by time, yet decreed by the things we have done.

These transient identities, these masks of masquerades that others mistakenly remember are what we actually are. These dust motes on anarchic tumble-tide trajectories. These momentary illusions coalesced from the quantum cause and ripple effect of all history, ready to evanesce at the slightest shift in neurochemistry or universal whimsy.

It seems I can no longer find time to define time... and meaning... and underlying form... and all those other things that occupied my mind so completely. Is life distracting me from the thoughts or were the thoughts distracting me from life? Am I better off where I am or where I was?

Was I a better stranger once? Will I become a better stranger next? Am I at least half as far from who I was, than from whom I want to become? Can these minutiae be measured with any accuracy or meaning?

Alas I can’t find any other words to fill this void - A vector agent of cerebral seepage.

Everything Happens For A Reason

2008-08-04T09:25:00.001-07:00

Along the path of uncertainties, lie endless possibilities. This is especially true in every endeavor in life… Sometimes, it is not the effort or time we put in that constitutes the end, but rather the element of luck.

But everything has a cycle and that includes luck, as everything had to be restituted at the end. For I suppose that apocatastasis is the very basic principle in this world - Within the cycle of Earth lies the cycle of life and within each cycle lays millions of other cycles in between and beyond…

Along the vicissitudes in life are the various junctures many had deliberated upon. But along the decisions made and opportunities missed, are the ways we look at things… Everything happens for a reason; her leaving is one of such reason, and I am believing it day by day…

Some Of The People

2008-07-28T08:10:00.000-07:00

Along the sea of people we meet and know, we remember some, forget some, hate some and got close with the others. Those that we got close to left a deeper impression on us than the rest, and for that few, we will always remember them for as long as we live... Even after many chapters of our lives.

Some of the people became our lovers, soul mates, some other became close friends and the rest just fades into the appendixes of our memory. Archived into the back of our brain, into pages where the names rings a bell but not the person themselves. Along the selective memories we keep, some of those we forgotten remembered us... And when they call upon us, we conjure the events in our minds to bring us back to the time where we first met. Sometimes we finally recall who they are, sometimes we just act as if we remembered so as to swathe the discomfiture surfacing from within...

Yet along the lists of people we encounter, are the emotions and sense of belonging; the nous of the very human essence. For that we only choose to remember those we like, those who are beautiful and handsome; those that fits in to the characters of this book of life. For this book is not written by ourselves, but by the people that and circumstances around us...

And I admit, I do forget people along the way...

I Don't Want To Finish

2008-07-19T02:14:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I read books and end up never finishing it... Sometimes I played Role Playing Games, and ended up at the last save point without ever completing it. Be it a book, a serial, a game or anything as paroxysmal as the end of life. The opprobrious invectives of an ending, is but a respite from all the chains of impossibilities we’ve seen in life...

Thus, I find it better to stay real... With each story I embark upon each new book, new DVDs or whatever medium along the visuals and audio peripherals, I tend to wax along the impossibilities of everything within me... The evocation of cataclysmic thoughts is what I’m trying to circumvent. The idea of hoping for the best and preparing for bliss is not what I want to become... So, I don’t want to finish...

The thought of finishing something equates to the zilch of anticipation. An ending is a full stop, an answer to all that is left. An answer which we could never change or work out... An answer that has been decided way before the story materialised in illustrations and thoughts. I prefer to make them out in my own ways and time...

Nothing ends up the way we want... Yet still, without the happy endings, are the lives we unexpectedly indulge.

I want to die happily ever after...

Now, how do I start...

The Erasers Of Reality

2008-07-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

Tired of the mundane lives we rinse and repeat, we often seek for an adventure, or maybe just an hour or two of digression from reality. For those well financed, we go travelling to see people in their own routines. To muse at how altered the meaning of “mundane” could be. But when we could not afford such luxuries, we just immerse ourselves into the stories of imaginations in front of a silver screen.

For the hour and more, we inhabit another world. A world brought to visuals ever since the advent of technology. The anecdotes of characters summarised into hours of action and drama. In stories that we find amusing with just a few minutes of trailer or synopsis, we decided to let our mind escape and drift into them for that moment.

I love watching movies, even if it’s all by myself. It’s not because of the escapism for that moment nor the companies with the show. It’s because some shows seemed like a past reminiscent or a déjà vu from a dream... The stories and characters may be different, the themes diverge, yet the consciousness of my mind reminds me otherwise.

In these movies and shows, animations and cinematic graphics, I see the illustrations of life. A depiction of snippets of my itinerary for the past years, and those I’ve seen and passed. The realism of actualities, cut and paste to form a totally different but profitable story. I abrade upon them on a weekly basis in an attempt to erase off what’s left of me...

Movies are the erasers of reality, and for that, I pay to erase myself... But still, there are still things we could never erase. Like how I have written too hard on some of the pages in history, that even such erasers could never remove...

Even if they did... The imprint is still there...

The Smell

2008-07-05T02:14:00.000-07:00

A week of hectic schedules to keep up, with the occasional ail in a year. I thought I had moved on… Mundane as it may be, work has made every moment in time engaging. Though thoughts of her flashes by momentarily, work has seemed to prevent me from dwelling much into the past…

Traversing through the crowd on a daily basis, scents and smells lingers around from random sources. Some remind me of my friends, some of my colleagues, and some led to her…

This sensation one gets when smelling his favourite food – Something rich, familiar, and wonderful that makes a person want to have it right there and then. I get that whenever I pass by a girl wearing her perfume.

And it’s killing me…

Partiality Perception

2008-06-23T08:33:00.000-07:00

Like how we visualize clock as a round object with disproportionate hands moving in a circular motion. Like how we drew a fish as an oval attached to a trigonometry figure. Like how we say a person is good and bad by just mere looks. Like how the past is always better than the present. Our partiality perception… A driving of the mind set on an automatic gear, it turns away at times and makes us believe the other… It makes us perceive in a way so ordinary yet with such predisposition…

Clocks can be rectangular, squarish or even in any other shape and sizes along the list of geometry. Fish can take the shape of many other figures, and the saying in the orient of “Do not judge a book by its cover” seems to be true after all. Yet time and again our logical drive makes us believe things of certain vestige to be somewhat conniving. A twisted mind in a twisted world, we turn visuals into fictional interpretations which we always find easy and coherent to believe in - And most of which, are inaccurate…

What are we to judge in the first place, what are we to find reason to construe and debate the existence of others? We are nothing better than just mere living proteins gyrating round this cycle of life, and the difference between us and other organisms is our ability of thought. A gift so unique yet so jaundiced…

Thinking Too Much

2008-06-17T09:29:00.000-07:00

As my thoughts congeal into a seemingly whole, they burst and shattered into the stratosphere. Like the death of a star, these stardust, these fragments trailed along the winds of path. They scatter about in every possible place I could think of... Settling upon the people and things I’ve once came upon, and they change.

In thoughts, in emotions, in ways I could impossibly describe. For words can never frame the changes I’m blinded to. Yet along the words and things I’ve probably spoken, the things I’ve done, the pain inflicted and received, is the present me that stands now. A person that still doesn’t change much...

In this world where thoughts drips from the faucets of society, into a concept so huge and meaningless to men, these thoughts just got flush down along the plugless sink of actuality.

I think.

I am thinking.

And I thought.

I really do have a proclivity for thinking too much...

Dream Girl

2008-06-12T09:02:00.000-07:00

In a sub reality where everything could fade away at any time, where my inner most desires materialised, I just wanted to stay there... Sometimes, I just hate to wake up. To be inundated by the troubles and loneliness in this high density livid world.

Every day I try to get myself exhausted to a point where I could dream again. And at times I do dream, but most of the times I just fade into oblivion. In these dreams I saw a girl. She stole the stars in my sleep; yet through the grips and correlation of reality I could only figure her name... Though she’s not exactly the type I imagined I would like, still I fell in love with her... In love with an imaginary girl who probably only appears once a week. In love with someone whom I could touch but not feel. In love with someone whom I could not hear myself when I speak... Is this how love truly is or should be?

At least in dreams, couples don’t quarrel; they don’t break up or say things that hurt... At least I could seek solace in the fact that she’s never going to leave me, or my mind...

A Walk Around Graves

2008-06-09T09:33:00.000-07:00

There's always this proverbial saying, "The cycle of life"... But walking and reading the old epitaphs all around, life seemed more like a terminal illness than a cycle. In time to come, there is no cycle in our life, but only a small stone slab that summarizes our entire itinerary. That is death...

"Rest In Peace", "Taken Too Soon", "Misunderstood"... These are some of the many summaries... All these words made me ponder about that person's life and the way they passed on to another world, especially the last one. Ruminating over such words has made me wonder about a whole lot. - About the increasing fatalities on the road. About unrequited love; a lover waiting for an eternity in vain and all alone. About the imperfection of memories, for after a hundred years of wear even the tombstone forgets your name...

I'm not as morbid as this entry sounds to be, it's just that cemeteries reminds me as much about life as they do about death. They're as much about keeping our memories alive and dealing with grief, as they are about holding the physical remains of a love one lost.

They are a reminder of how transience life is, how one day we will also be under these stones. The blessings of life itself and the need for action so as to not let others summarize our entire motif in such few words.

Death

2008-06-04T07:46:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about death a lot recently. From the movies to the friends whom once were, death seemed to be the theme at this point in time... Withered flowers lay upon the threshold of death, burnt incense delivering the thoughts of our prayers to another realm. We abide by the traditional rites of communicating to the departed; in ways science can never explain...

One day you'll be dead... so will I... and so will everyone you and I both know. It's just a matter of time. By then what will be left of us?

Our memories may linger on in the people who once knew us - the good and the bad. People we never met may someday gaze upon our works and accomplishments and wonder who we were and how it feels like to be us at that time. Our children’s, children’s, children might still carry a diluted set of our genes and perhaps know our names and the few statistics of our lives. A record will be kept somewhere of our death and the circumstances involved.

But eventually down the great tunnel of time - we will disappear. Our genes dispersed in the generational winds, all memory and records expunged under the weight of swollen history.

We will be nothing then - It is then will we be finally, truly, utterly dead. Nameless and forgotten?

By then will we finally be free?

Climbing

2008-05-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

It’s been sometime since I last did this, so long that the calluses built up over the last training have long worn off… I don’t know what inspired me to just do it again, nor do I know where this strength and resolve came from… I just wanted to climb…

Away from ground level, away from the earth that we humans have encroached… I scaled the rocky limestone, clipping each bolt as I ascend up the horizon. My arms grew weary with each passing move. My legs struggling to keep up against the laws of gravity. With each leap and grab, my mind has transcended beyond the threshold of pain. Searing through my palms are the cause and effect of friction… As I painted the rocks with the colours of my resolve, all my earthly emotions flows through my hand back to this land that spawned me, and I realized… Pain is my only salvation…

Pain is a reminder to the soul of the bonds it shares with the flesh. Failure is just another reminder that not everything is within my grasp… Perhaps I’ve never done enough, or maybe I’ve never done anything… Retreat and I will age, hesitate and I will die, my only notion is not to stand still. What is there to fear, when I have nothing more to lose.

Climbing is all about failure. Ask anyone who has worked on a project for days, weeks, months, years… There are no conquerors of mountains and king of this land; only the rabid desire to surpass what the climber was only a moment ago. 1 more moment, 1 more breath, 1 more move closer to fruition. When, if ever, is he satisfied?

Me…

Never…

Money Friends

2008-05-24T07:55:00.000-07:00

How long has it been since we made mistakes, volunteered for something even when we don’t know what we are expecting. How long has it been since we last believe what someone says to be everything; that words are pure truth with no hidden agendas... Just how long...

We seemed to have lost this innocence in life as we grow, surrogated by the realities of people and the expectations within. As we grow, we make friends in a more cynical manner. Afraid of what hidden intentions people harbour, afraid of being used and be used. At the same time we also lost friends we used to know, friends that we used to hang out over with just a few cents of coffee. Just what changed us, or rather, the people around us... Is it the realization of monetary needs and the need to be more selfish than giving?

As I see my friends change, I can’t help but ponder the human revolution, the doctrine of “Survival of the fittest” and the incorporation of the sins into our once pure fortitude. I’m amazed by what money can do as well as the evil it’s capable... Somehow, I have yet to drift to the dark side, and I just want it to remain this way...

Hope

2008-05-16T22:04:00.000-07:00

How long has it been since I last hope for something... Fragmented memories, crossed between the space of remembrance and the appetence of convalescing mentally. Piecing me together is the daily work and schedules... But now, I’m free from the mundane life again...

As I see people come together and fall apart, much hits me... Like how fragile love can be, like how ever after is never a fact but an illusionary facade. I begin to see stories unfold... In a friend’s point of view, in a third party point of view, and I am starting to admire the will of humanity. Like how people moved on even after a close one passed on, like how failure only makes another more successful, I’m beginning to see it in a more frequent interval. We stumble and fall, we fell and halt... Life just hits us like an avalanche, burying all that we’ve ever cherished and lived for. But in this barrenness of solitude, is a chance to start all over again...

I guess what’s left of this loveless world is hope... Though I’ve lost much of it, though I only adhere to the “Hope for the best and expect the worst” doctrine. I still hope... Hoping that one day, I will meet someone who will love me as much as I love her, someone who could understand me in every way possible... I just hope...

A balmy breeze from the west is said to bring prosperity. The other name of wind is "Hope"... People forgot long ago that they hold the power to renew the dried up earth. People's heart can change the world, but if we would to change the world, we must first let hope change our heart…

Darkness

2008-05-09T09:37:00.000-07:00

Distant days spent in that beautiful paradise are an illusion to me now. My dream now is not in the future, but the distant past... How long have I been here, banished into the realm of nothingness? It is only by relying on my anger and sorrow that I have been able to retain my sense of self here – In this darkness where all existence is nullified, in this realm, where all love has been disintegrated. I have just barely managed to preserve my sense of self by continuing to think and to write.

This is a place where even time has lost all meaning. Eternity is but a moment here.

My heart is finally being overcome with repulsion towards her, possessed by the darkness, and with the anger I felt for stupidly allowing myself to fell in love with her.

When the soul leaves the body, its vessel, life gives way to death, but what about when the heart leaves? A being does not perish when the heart leaves its gelatinous cage. My heart is already a captive of the darkness eroding at every dreams and thought of her... When will I ever truly become heartless? Loveless?

A Wedding Night

2008-05-05T06:25:00.000-07:00

The unification of two becomes one... The vows of an eternal love, crossed between the junction of hope and faith, tolerance and acceptance. They are revered to as the pinnacle of happiness, a state of contentment filled to the brim by bliss. Many experienced this for a while, some for some while, some never in their brief moments ever...

I capture these times of joy and celebration. The congregation brought about by the marriage of two individuals. They brought laughter, joy and many other emotions that are beyond words, - Emotions that could only be captured by light and light alone. I try to freeze them in pixels and resolutions, to capture what is left of a night abrogated by the laws of age and time.

Whenever I see such pure happiness, such confessions of love, such brief beautiful moments, I can’t help myself but continue shooting these portraits of perfection. I went on all night, until the lights are out, until the guests have left... I went on...

In my own futile attempt to keep happiness, I seek solace in the pictures of others. Even if it does not belong to me, I keep shooting... For it reminds me of how human I am, of how love should be and how it should not end. In the end only to realize how much I miss her, how long I have last saw her...

When two people meet, there are six present... There is a man as he sees himself, each man as the other woman sees him, and the man he really is. If only three of her had fallen in love with all the three man I really am...

Empty Days

2008-04-28T08:46:00.000-07:00

Time passed with each tick; seconds flow through my fingers in great lengths of discursiveness, and what’s left of it became the emptiness of hours and days... The clock stares blankly with its tentacle hands, sounding out to me in regular intervals. Reminding me of the times I have lost and am going to lose. I lay on my bed, figuring obtusely for things to keep me occupied, to keep my mind from wondering to thoughts it shouldn’t be...

I don’t understand why I took a day off anymore when all I need is something to prevent the melancholic cerebral discourse between me and myself. That invisible battle that relinquishes all reason and logic vice versa. I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to be tormented by the ghosts of past histories...

Asynchronous strands of memories, fragmented dialogues and blurred past narratives... The re-enactment of previous tragedies... I just want to put them all behind... I want to move on...

But how?

I Write

2008-04-23T09:10:00.000-07:00

I write to stay alive. In a futile attempt to remove the broken bits in me, I write and I write again… On paper, in my mind, on the web, in this blog, drafts of me scattered all around in physical and ethereal forms… I wrote stories of her, of us… Stories of what I wanted my life to be, to what it has been. I wrote many things, things that now I no longer even remember… I have hundreds if not thousands of unpublished thoughts, thoughts that deliquesce along space and time only to be isolated and coagulated by emptiness, thoughts that for no rhyme nor reason just came crashing into my mind.

Even as I ran out of inspiration, I turned to aspiration… Like breathing, I have to continue writing… Even if it’s just for the canvas to see and feel, even if it is on a tissue that will end up being smudged and rendered illiterate. I write… I don’t know who I’m writing to or who I’m writing for… Heck, I don’t even know who reads these crap…

I wanted to write a book and I even got a title for it, but I figured along the lines of cost and profits - It will not work out. For I harbour way too many thoughts that would interest no one, no things, no beings… Thoughts stored along the bytes and folders of archive, written and stashed under the forgotten pages of yellowed history. As long as I live, I have to keep writing… To leave a piece of me, to leave a piece of memory, no matter how short and insignificant it may be…

Here, I’ve written again…

Dreams time and again...

2008-04-20T04:37:00.000-07:00

As I lost myself between the crossroads of life, directions no longer make any sense. They all seemed to be pointing backwards, and I thought I had moved on... I told myself that the end is the dissevering of my soul from the heart, so that I will no longer feel nor love again... I thought that way I would totally forget her... I thought that way, I would totally forget love. But somehow she just appears in my dreams time and again...

Is it because of the human faculty? That equivocal gift of thought that give rise to dreams and imagination... But I don’t want to dream anymore, especially not her. It just drives me crazy whenever I fall into a world with her, just to wake up alone again. That disappointment, that anger, that antagonism, all spawned from the drugs of sub reality...

No one can comprehend the rage that drives me, that impossible anger strangling the grief until the memory of your loved ones just poison in your veins... At the end of the day, you catch yourself wishing that the person you loved never existed so you'd be spared the agony…

Growing Up

2008-04-16T07:46:00.000-07:00

Life is never easy, but I did not know it could be so hard. Once we figure out we are on our own, that we are adults with life decisions that could change our future forever, that is when we finally find out what kind of a person we are… Be it choosing which university to go to, what girls to fall in love with. Ultimately, the decision is up to us, for good or for bad. It is how we live with the consequences of our actions and decisions that matters…

Poring through the vestiges of past deliberations, my predilection to play on the safe side has seemed to have gotten the best of me… Be it in relationships, investing, or buying something I desire. I always seemed to dwell too much into its repercussions rather than enjoying that brief moment of pleasure and exhilaration… So much so, it made me stay stagnant in a spot for too long… So much longer, that everyone has moved on except me.

Somedays, being an adult is vexing and tiresome… Imagine being a kid again, when homework is the only least favourite thing. Just at what point do we lose this innocence, that we finally realize the way of the world. Every individual will eventually discover how the world acts and reacts; it's just a matter of when…

For me, I think it was due to all the past perfidies of people whom I have prepensely lost contact with – The realization of my morality, not just family or friends, but my own… That betrayal and heartbreaks are real. That I too someday will die, that one day this blog and all I have lived for will no longer exist or matter.

At which point do we realize we are no longer a child? To each his own, the answer varies. But to me, I think it is the day I see that I will die and understand, it's not sleeping, and it’s not a dream… It is a matter of fact…

Back to Work

2008-04-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

Back to work, back to the banality of daily subsistence. I took the passage back to my robotic schedules. I ride back on the trains of familiar strangers, at the same cabin waiting for that same exit... That portal back to the 4 walled partitioned cubes with only a window connected to the world via electronic fibre optic cables.

As I consigned myself upon the seat of a civil servant I tap the plastic medium with the familiarity of breathing, creating works of reports and searches to information for some to see and some into the shredding machine. Wasting my life to this national servitude and waiting for the impending paper race. I sat here, hoping for any defining moment that would make me feel something different. Something besides emptiness... Waiting for change... Waiting for love... A love that will never come to be.

Love has died, that is if it ever was a living thing. Along with it is my anticipation of freedom... Solitaire became my favourite game, and like every unitary leitmotiv, I’m just sitting here, rehashing every moments of before... Saturdays and Sundays became days of escapism. Staying at home becomes a repeat infliction of dolour. I wanted salvation, so I indulged in everything... Now I want to seek forgiveness, but what can a mortal ask, after all the 7 sins...

Tears became a momentary deliverance, yet along the discourse of voice boxes and elucidation are these writing I left behind...

Rebirth

2008-04-10T09:50:00.000-07:00

Back in a foreign land that seemed all too familiar, I see life emerging from the bowels of death. Rebirth after the barrenness of winter. Beauty phasing through the cycle of life. Regardless of how short their ephemeral stay may be, they bloomed for the world to see. Painting their existence through the pink of what we epitomised as life.

Nature is a great teacher, and I took down her lessons of death, life and rebirth in stilled images. This is especially so along the transition of winter to spring - The allegory of rebirth. Where the trees take on the barrenness of apparent death, only to be revived through time. Yet their beauty is so transient and fragile that mere wind and rain could them take away.

However short-lived life may be, she has taught me to embrace even the slightest moment of beauty and happiness.

However in this loveless dessert, beauty and happiness is a taboo that only those with it can solace.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

2008-04-01T03:21:00.000-07:00

Brokened. Shattered against radio-shadows. Dead planets and specks of stardust loomed titanic through lensed distance and incalculable perspective. Washed out by sun flares and nipped at by gravity wells. Many stars alike hovers around the invisible ring of oscillation, yet this one star struggles to stay alive...

Darkness is the word, the very abstract of my heart. It looms across the universe of emptiness. Vacuumed into an eternity of solitude... A lone planet, or so it is... A star hanging between the balance of life and death. Waiting for a day that living things would start flourishing upon its embrace... Yet all there is, are loveless...

All hope and faith expunged across the shades of black and white. This sole planet survived... After the eclipse of the heart, ice age dawned upon the millennia of civilization. Freezing every organism on this fading star, absorbing every degree of warmth it has harnessed over the years of exposure. As love left, this planet sunk into darkness, all ray of life filtered by another star... A star so close and dear to it... Yet even propinquity could not daunt the change of the heart... In this eclipse, all shades of light are bent and distorted, all lines of thoughts ebbed into an inebriated state, all hope and faith evanescence along the disintegration of life.

What’s left is a desert, barren of thoughts and emotions... Even after a hundred years it remained. Stilled and frozen by the ice that numbs all pain. What’s left behind the Moon is just a heart in cold storage. Awaiting for the fenrir to devour the very Moon that meant so much...

A failing fragmented signal. Some final plea unanswered. Some last warning unheeded. Now lost forever into the abyss of emptiness...

Broken Hearts, Brokened Me

2008-03-27T09:32:00.000-07:00

I see me in him, a mirrored self a couple of months ago. Brokened and despaired, casted away by the love we held so close. Eschewed by the very people we once considered dearest. The only thoughts that circumvents within has became nothing but an intoxicating venom. A poison that chokes the very life out of us, rendering us emotionless and loveless. This poison feeds our very subsistence, surrogating necessities into the very air we breath... We became nothing but zombies... Zombies that crave not blood, but the acceleration of relativity...

Nothing became an interest anymore, and time seemed like a merciless reminder that keeps her in my head. Words like “There are other trees in the forest”, “You will find someone better” and metaphors alike became the tagline of many others. Yet now I could not bring myself to say such hypocrisies. For I am not god... I can’t say if the other tree would be there, I can’t say if there would be anybody else far better than who he ever had.

All I could do, was only to drown myself upon the pain we shared. Along the same boat adrift, I just hope I am the rain... A rain that will bring respite along the battles we fought within. But I wondered...

If I were the rain that binds together the earth and the sky, whom in all eternity would never mingle. Would I really be able to bind 2 hearts together...

The Battle Within

2008-03-26T08:45:00.000-07:00

With every step and muscle flexed, shrouds of pain and fatigue engulf me. Fighting between the basic mental responses of giving up and pressing on, my mind fought the battle within. And as my will finally overcame my mortal shell, pain became nothing but an anesthetized sting. The legs continue on their own, obeying only to the biological signals programmed from the mind… When was the last time I was sliced by a pain so intense and perpetual yet numb and deaden?

When my flesh surpassed its threshold of pain, a familiar sensation overcame me… In the disparate distance between pain and sorrow, is that void of emptiness. The hollowed numbness equated by the zilch of mathematical equations. Amidst this vacuumed space she has left behind, I look for all sorts of things to fill it up again… But like a bottomless black hole, nothing seemed to suffice the kind of feeling she made me felt. Not even pain, perhaps not even death… But I just keep on trying, keep on finding. The alternate ways, the alternate people, my alternate providence… Superfluous and meaningless, but that is what keeps me going…

It’s funny how we humans work… There are things we do even though we know it is pointless. No matter how senseless it is we must do it in order to collect ourselves. Even if it is a useless waste of energy the action will be repeated, until the mind could finally find a reason to stop. A reason which explains that everything is ok… That the end is something you can’t change - and that particular something you can’t change, has became a matter of fact…

I Have To Keep Breathing

2008-03-22T11:53:00.000-07:00

I'm spending more and more time not writing what comes into my head. All the bizarre, sinister yet melancholic psychosis that I’m afraid to share with anyone. Not to anybody, and to a certain extent - not even with myself. Like all the nightmares you don't want to believe you had or were ever capable of having.

I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not... And i don't have to keep telling myself that right? A poignant rendition of a loveless life. Is it better when you stop asking or is it better that you still ask? Is it worse to be worried about these things all the time than it is to rush through feral thoughts without consideration?

I keep feeling the need to retract. To not go as far as I do. To be critical of the random excentricities of thought. To remember that normal people, whoever or whatever they are, don't do that. They don't go into places that scare themselves, they don't dwell around broken thoughts and try to piece them one by one... They don’t stop by graveyards in the midst of the night to find quietude.

Normal people don't feel themselves pressed against the countenance of now. The rush of personal history crushing them against the present moment. The overwhelming force of it all spreading them impossibly thin.

Normal people don't chill at the thought of opening up like a door and having something else step through and out into their lives. Into the space they occupied. However briefly. However badly. Something clear of purpose and place, perfect and righteous and free of all the tethers and chains that hold me down here in the dark.

Something I don't think I will like very much.

I guess normal people don't have to worry about becoming normal.

Angels and Demons

2008-03-18T10:15:00.000-07:00

The loss of self is often the real tragedy of a traumatic brain injury, yet I experience it on a daily basis without the physical impairment. The loss of direction, the loss of hope and piteous supplications. This loss is so profound that only some understood… Some took days, some took weeks, some others – Months and years – In a bide to retain and cling on to something called sanity.

This loss is a soul shattering experience, passionate and intimate. It is so intimate that society as a whole averts its eyes and closes its ears to the pain and despair of such a naked soul. It is a soul bedeviled by infantile demons, the very stuff from which neurosis and psychosis is made. We apply strange and frightening remedies, trying to mend what’s broken into something not. In the vain attempts to effect a cure for a pain that doesn’t exists in the medical books, we perform modern rites of exorcism to rid us of such demons…

These demons are the very angels that made us love in the first place. Without wings, and only a broken heart, they transmogrify into the very darkness that made us do and feel what we did and felt. Perhaps the only thing that’s left of this flightless self would be our instincts. The instinct of survival, the instinct to find love, and to love again…

I wonder if mine are still intact… Or perhaps, they are buried somewhere, under the denial that I desire no love, incapacitated by the fear of falling from such heights again…