Every fairytale has an end, and mine ended this year... On the 9th of November... In life, there is no happily ever after, only the transitory cessation of solitude. At the end of the day, it still comes back down to one person, me... It's just how I live with it...
When our relationship ended, many thoughts about life, love and women ensued me. Everything changes in life, objects, people, even me... Ruminating over the many question marks, I find that my affinity with women all never lasted long... Though one by one they left me like passengers on a bus, I just kept moving along the road of time. Hoping to find someone better, someone to finish this journey with me. Even though time and again I am the one getting hurt, I still somehow fall in love with them... Maybe I am built this way; programmed to love... I've never hated any of them for leaving me, only the faint regret that maybe I didn't do enough...
Life is the reason why guys like women, they are the symbol of life, the bearer of life. Our consanguinity to children too has the same reasons...
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Songs & Lyrics
Recently, I find myself listening more and more of English songs. Not because I dislike other languages or so, it’s just that I find them more profound and meaningful than perhaps, Chinese songs. Songs are supposed to blind our senses, and transit us into another world of existence; its cadence a healing hand when I am feeling at my worst, their words a trivial demarcation between fiction and reality… The amalgamation of these 2 is the one perfection man has ever achieved.
But listening to songs and reading lyrics are 2 different experiences altogether… It’s amazing how I can hum to the rhythm of songs and sing to it, but not realizing their actual meaning and purpose. It’s like reading a literature text and watching a play. The text makes you cogitate about the thoughts and feelings of the character, while the play accentuates more on the storyline. A song’s rhythm and tempo need not resonate the true meaning of each words penned into the lyrics. Like how Maroon 5 sings Nothing Lasts Forever, the beat, pace and genre is not something many of us would associate with breaking up…
Maybe its pieces like this that has drawn me closer to English songs. Though they could be a manifestation of my loveless life, but at least they do not sound that heartrending… They hum sorrow into happiness, death into rebirth, heartbreaks into new beginnings… I admire the lack of self pity such songs depict, perhaps that’s why I stopped listening to Chinese songs. Chinese songs take in the saddest form of the human condition, pain and agony at its finest rendition …
Is it a sign that I am moving on? I just hope what I thought is truth…
But listening to songs and reading lyrics are 2 different experiences altogether… It’s amazing how I can hum to the rhythm of songs and sing to it, but not realizing their actual meaning and purpose. It’s like reading a literature text and watching a play. The text makes you cogitate about the thoughts and feelings of the character, while the play accentuates more on the storyline. A song’s rhythm and tempo need not resonate the true meaning of each words penned into the lyrics. Like how Maroon 5 sings Nothing Lasts Forever, the beat, pace and genre is not something many of us would associate with breaking up…
Maybe its pieces like this that has drawn me closer to English songs. Though they could be a manifestation of my loveless life, but at least they do not sound that heartrending… They hum sorrow into happiness, death into rebirth, heartbreaks into new beginnings… I admire the lack of self pity such songs depict, perhaps that’s why I stopped listening to Chinese songs. Chinese songs take in the saddest form of the human condition, pain and agony at its finest rendition …
Is it a sign that I am moving on? I just hope what I thought is truth…
Deathology
When I was small, death was like a sleep away, a painless departure into another realm of subsistence. I remembered feeling my grandpa’s wrinkled hand, the icy touch of death, that lifeless shell that lies before me. I shook and called him, “Grandpa, time to wake up.”, I wanted to play with him, I wanted him to give me sweets. But my mother came in and told me, “Grandpa is sleeping”…
An eternal slumber it became, I never fully realize his death until a few years later. I began to question my mother, and she just ended my memories with him in 2 words… “He died”… These 2 words so simple, yet forceful, like how Shakespeare ended King Lear existence. Is that what happens when the soul finally leaves the confines of our viscous cage? Just 2 words to tell others the end of one’s journey?
At 14, I wished I was 18, so I could get a driving license and go into bars and pubs. At that time, I have an affinity to trouble. Everything I did and thought was not right in this civilization, this culture. Finally, my creativity evolved into practicality, dulled by the societal skeletons of humanity. All my thoughts and works, all my ideas of life just melted into oblivion. At this age, I learned how to think, work and play like a puppet under a puppeteer.
Then at the vicissitude of 18, I wished I was 21, so I could freely enjoy independence and also to openly enter more bars and pubs as well as the theatre for R(A) shows. I began to grow out of my shell, I began reaching and eating forbidden fruits. I began having my own life. I got into love, only to fell out of it time and again. At last, I finally reached here, at this time, at this moment, a few years past the independence state of 21.
Until then, the flow of time seemed stagnant, incarcerated by the warden of youth. But now, time seeps through my fingers like sands in an hourglass. I’ve lost her, now, I’m also losing time… Often than not, I switched on the news to watch people die, flipped through the papers to read about others death… At such times I realize how real I am, I bleed when I am cut, I cry when I am hurt, I feel pain at both the physical and mental altitude. I am just like these people who was once alive…
Over age, I have grown out of my juvenile ideas, ideas that I am invincible, ideas that I am special in some ways… But now I know, I am just human, a mortal, a soul trapped in this decaying flesh and bones, and I am withering together with the evanescence of time… I am not Peter Pan, and never will I be, there is never a Neverland, only a tombstone at the end.
In this world where everyone is either a capitalist or an opportunist, death seems like it is the ultimate equalizer which will finally make strangers shed tears for one another… The counterweight to bring balance to humankind. The final recapitulation of one’s itinerary on Earth. All in just 2 words, “He died”…
An eternal slumber it became, I never fully realize his death until a few years later. I began to question my mother, and she just ended my memories with him in 2 words… “He died”… These 2 words so simple, yet forceful, like how Shakespeare ended King Lear existence. Is that what happens when the soul finally leaves the confines of our viscous cage? Just 2 words to tell others the end of one’s journey?
At 14, I wished I was 18, so I could get a driving license and go into bars and pubs. At that time, I have an affinity to trouble. Everything I did and thought was not right in this civilization, this culture. Finally, my creativity evolved into practicality, dulled by the societal skeletons of humanity. All my thoughts and works, all my ideas of life just melted into oblivion. At this age, I learned how to think, work and play like a puppet under a puppeteer.
Then at the vicissitude of 18, I wished I was 21, so I could freely enjoy independence and also to openly enter more bars and pubs as well as the theatre for R(A) shows. I began to grow out of my shell, I began reaching and eating forbidden fruits. I began having my own life. I got into love, only to fell out of it time and again. At last, I finally reached here, at this time, at this moment, a few years past the independence state of 21.
Until then, the flow of time seemed stagnant, incarcerated by the warden of youth. But now, time seeps through my fingers like sands in an hourglass. I’ve lost her, now, I’m also losing time… Often than not, I switched on the news to watch people die, flipped through the papers to read about others death… At such times I realize how real I am, I bleed when I am cut, I cry when I am hurt, I feel pain at both the physical and mental altitude. I am just like these people who was once alive…
Over age, I have grown out of my juvenile ideas, ideas that I am invincible, ideas that I am special in some ways… But now I know, I am just human, a mortal, a soul trapped in this decaying flesh and bones, and I am withering together with the evanescence of time… I am not Peter Pan, and never will I be, there is never a Neverland, only a tombstone at the end.
In this world where everyone is either a capitalist or an opportunist, death seems like it is the ultimate equalizer which will finally make strangers shed tears for one another… The counterweight to bring balance to humankind. The final recapitulation of one’s itinerary on Earth. All in just 2 words, “He died”…
Saturday, December 22, 2007
I Am Hollow
Void of a soul, I roam this realm of life in a gelatinous cage. My thoughts are antecedent of past revelations, the harvests of past experience. My emotions are the human clauses that came along with the contract of life. My reactions, the weird Pavlovian response bounded to the laws of emotions.
Time is a remedy that does not heal, but merely narcotizes. Alcohol is a mitigation of the eventual reactions, an exclusion clause fine printed underneath the chapter of emotions. Bounded by such humanistic laws, I couldn’t help but think if I am hollow… A shell which subsistence lies in the very meaning of purpose...
Today is Christmas Eve, but here I am, transversing through the net to find everyone unavailable... I guess everybody is celebrating the dawn of a new Christmas. But life goes on here, in this cell of mine... Tapped and knocked upon by essences such as love and hope, I could only respond to them in a constant sepulchral tone. The reverberation, an answer of my own...
Time is a remedy that does not heal, but merely narcotizes. Alcohol is a mitigation of the eventual reactions, an exclusion clause fine printed underneath the chapter of emotions. Bounded by such humanistic laws, I couldn’t help but think if I am hollow… A shell which subsistence lies in the very meaning of purpose...
Today is Christmas Eve, but here I am, transversing through the net to find everyone unavailable... I guess everybody is celebrating the dawn of a new Christmas. But life goes on here, in this cell of mine... Tapped and knocked upon by essences such as love and hope, I could only respond to them in a constant sepulchral tone. The reverberation, an answer of my own...
The Anniversary
As I feel her skin and tasted her lips, I was engulfed in euphoria. A dream that looked so distant had came true, a dream that could last at most 7 hours has became reality... The dream of being with her... I never thought we could be so close. As our souls connect and her touch rests against mine, the flames of love began burning red. Her scent is the very oxygen that feeds it, her touch is the very fuel that kept it alive... At that moment, I thought to myself, “She’s gonna be my wife.”
365 days had passed, and I came back full circle to this fateful day... In the very same room, at the very same time... But this time, I’m all alone. What’s left of her is just the faint smell and remembrance of her presence... Flipping through pages of past narration, those photos, those letters, those videos... Those reminisence of past gaiety. People say the eyes are the window to the soul, but now, these windows are blurred. As droplets roll down these frames, the red flames of passion has already turned blue... Dreams do come to an end, and mine has long ended...
Every day I think of calling her. Every day I wonder what our lives would have been like if things had gone down differently.
I can't say they would have been better.
But that's the closest thing to solace, I've ever been allowed.
365 days had passed, and I came back full circle to this fateful day... In the very same room, at the very same time... But this time, I’m all alone. What’s left of her is just the faint smell and remembrance of her presence... Flipping through pages of past narration, those photos, those letters, those videos... Those reminisence of past gaiety. People say the eyes are the window to the soul, but now, these windows are blurred. As droplets roll down these frames, the red flames of passion has already turned blue... Dreams do come to an end, and mine has long ended...
Every day I think of calling her. Every day I wonder what our lives would have been like if things had gone down differently.
I can't say they would have been better.
But that's the closest thing to solace, I've ever been allowed.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Chain Of Thoughts
Transiting back to my mundane schedules, I find myself scouring through my life, searching for something so obscure such as love. It’s just so intangible; an ethereal veil of comfort that I could never grasp and hold on to, yet the pain of losing it is so excruciating. Love is just so surreal; it just makes me conjectures if it even existed in the first place…
Searching in and out of myself, my thoughts gyrate down an eternal spiral, taking stops at some steps and skipping through some. My cognitive and volitional states of consciousness just surface up through the equidistant of space and time… But as my faculty of thoughts crystallizes into words, I began jotting them down, on my mobile, on my hand, on pieces of paper, on any medium I can find that could be the canvas for my thoughts. Even within the confines of my mind, I scribble them down like how a child doodles their imaginary lines of thought onto drawing blocks.
Finally, I reached home, and switched on the portal to the sea of information. Here, I unload all these bits and pieces of fragmented thoughts. Piece by piece, I unload them, joining them like pieces of puzzles. Here, my broken thoughts coalesce into something else - Constituents amalgamate and formed into alphabets, into words, and eventually sentences. Here, I make them whole, to give them meaning so that someone could understand.
Finally, I click the “publish” button to let the world access my mind… Hopefully, to be heard, to be answered…
Searching in and out of myself, my thoughts gyrate down an eternal spiral, taking stops at some steps and skipping through some. My cognitive and volitional states of consciousness just surface up through the equidistant of space and time… But as my faculty of thoughts crystallizes into words, I began jotting them down, on my mobile, on my hand, on pieces of paper, on any medium I can find that could be the canvas for my thoughts. Even within the confines of my mind, I scribble them down like how a child doodles their imaginary lines of thought onto drawing blocks.
Finally, I reached home, and switched on the portal to the sea of information. Here, I unload all these bits and pieces of fragmented thoughts. Piece by piece, I unload them, joining them like pieces of puzzles. Here, my broken thoughts coalesce into something else - Constituents amalgamate and formed into alphabets, into words, and eventually sentences. Here, I make them whole, to give them meaning so that someone could understand.
Finally, I click the “publish” button to let the world access my mind… Hopefully, to be heard, to be answered…
Computerised Me
As the decibels raises around me, I prepare to return to a place I called home. Immersed in a culture so different from mine, they have drowned off the melancholic me. As days passes by with celerity, I have assimilated the norms of them. Installing myself and my mind into a different platform, how I wish I am just an artificial intelligence...
The acculturation of the people from this new place is far different from any I have seen. Everything is so different there, from people to buildings to items... But somehow, my logical drive tells me I like there and it’s filling into the gaps of emptiness. Such is the matrix of a new experience - Invisible numbers that forms a logical thought and processed it into a sensation which eventually equates to mixed emotions. I just hope these unfounded numbers are the answers to everything, the remedy for a broken me...
Though these imperceptible digits are no sagacity, but I believe that irrational numbers are a prelude to a whole stratosphere of irrational concepts that will prove to be the secret math that closes all the gaps in rational sciences. Like how one could get over someone whom he has deeply loved before...
The acculturation of the people from this new place is far different from any I have seen. Everything is so different there, from people to buildings to items... But somehow, my logical drive tells me I like there and it’s filling into the gaps of emptiness. Such is the matrix of a new experience - Invisible numbers that forms a logical thought and processed it into a sensation which eventually equates to mixed emotions. I just hope these unfounded numbers are the answers to everything, the remedy for a broken me...
Though these imperceptible digits are no sagacity, but I believe that irrational numbers are a prelude to a whole stratosphere of irrational concepts that will prove to be the secret math that closes all the gaps in rational sciences. Like how one could get over someone whom he has deeply loved before...
Saturday, December 8, 2007
A World No One Understands
Day breaks, and I'm awake, but dreams of her made me close my eyes again... Hoping to go back into that dream again.. It's been so long since I last dreamt of her, talk to her and see her... Do dreams connect to one another? A sub reality we experience everyday.
Here I am, playing with those memories again. Just when I thought time has set me free, thoughts of her keep taunting me. Living life in disparate moments, connected by something tenuous known as memories, it makes me wonder if its a blessing or a curse. Fragments of now, seperated by moments of superficial inbetweens, lingering behind it is all the past regrets. From the narrative past, I could only hope that eventuality will outweigh the repercussions...
I know memories are meant to be kept and sometimes swept behind, but the frequency of bringing it up is wholly dependant on the amount of regrets. I guess I have too much to regret, but there's no more way to mend these mistakes...
Behind this smile of mine, is a world I don't want anyone to understand.
Here I am, playing with those memories again. Just when I thought time has set me free, thoughts of her keep taunting me. Living life in disparate moments, connected by something tenuous known as memories, it makes me wonder if its a blessing or a curse. Fragments of now, seperated by moments of superficial inbetweens, lingering behind it is all the past regrets. From the narrative past, I could only hope that eventuality will outweigh the repercussions...
I know memories are meant to be kept and sometimes swept behind, but the frequency of bringing it up is wholly dependant on the amount of regrets. I guess I have too much to regret, but there's no more way to mend these mistakes...
Behind this smile of mine, is a world I don't want anyone to understand.
Wave Existence
Ever wondered what our lives are like? I often muse about that question, ruminating over the probable chance of even finding the slightest answer, but often than not, it just pushes me deeper - Deeper into my crevices of self. Are we just mere existence with zero correlation? The parallel difference amidst the trajectory touch of human relations... Today I found the answer, but the answer is only cogent for today...
Our existence are merely waves, hundreds, thousands, millions of inconspicuous waves. It ebbs and throbs at the very mere things we did and decided to do. It resonates our purpose through a medium we could never understand. It speaks to us in a language some called “Answers”, the voice of the consecrated one some revered to as “God”, but still we can never read them. It is a cryptogram moving along the seas of fate, a matrix which we can never decipher... Yet somehow it exists and takes form in our lives, somehow or another.
Between the now and then, the here and there, the past and the present... Our waves picks up and slows down, crashes onto shores and carried on briefly. One constant that delineated it, is that it will never stop moving... Not even for a slightest moment. Even as it dies, every single ergs will be passed on to the next. That is our existence... Our wave existence...
Our existence are merely waves, hundreds, thousands, millions of inconspicuous waves. It ebbs and throbs at the very mere things we did and decided to do. It resonates our purpose through a medium we could never understand. It speaks to us in a language some called “Answers”, the voice of the consecrated one some revered to as “God”, but still we can never read them. It is a cryptogram moving along the seas of fate, a matrix which we can never decipher... Yet somehow it exists and takes form in our lives, somehow or another.
Between the now and then, the here and there, the past and the present... Our waves picks up and slows down, crashes onto shores and carried on briefly. One constant that delineated it, is that it will never stop moving... Not even for a slightest moment. Even as it dies, every single ergs will be passed on to the next. That is our existence... Our wave existence...
The Anger Within
Anger, an emotion so negative yet unavoidable… It surrounds us, erratic and capricious like the stock market. At times it engulfs us and brings out our altered persona, at times it is just a fleeting moment in between this space and time. Yet when anger consumes us, even the most sagacious and logical can become perverse and dangerous…
As present turns into past and experience evolved into memories, I grew weary of these human emotions I feel. The short malevolence of anger… The feeling of betrayal… The thirst for revenge… And the eventual emptiness... I tried to let them go, I tried to transit myself away from such feeble feelings. Yet whenever I dreamt of her, these negative feelings just come surging back like a tidal wave… Each wave more devastating than the other, until I finally felt desolated. I thought I had let go of all that is not mine, those relationships, those things, those people… But a thought is all there is to it… Hitherto, time has told me that acceptance is the only conduit to happiness.
I find myself changing along the cerebral and corporeal facet. Changes which I could not put into words, but felt within… Changes which I do not know are for the best or the worst. Changes that made me fit more, into this loveless world…
Is this because of all the broken things within me? Or is it just me, shifting along the winds of time… No one knows…
As present turns into past and experience evolved into memories, I grew weary of these human emotions I feel. The short malevolence of anger… The feeling of betrayal… The thirst for revenge… And the eventual emptiness... I tried to let them go, I tried to transit myself away from such feeble feelings. Yet whenever I dreamt of her, these negative feelings just come surging back like a tidal wave… Each wave more devastating than the other, until I finally felt desolated. I thought I had let go of all that is not mine, those relationships, those things, those people… But a thought is all there is to it… Hitherto, time has told me that acceptance is the only conduit to happiness.
I find myself changing along the cerebral and corporeal facet. Changes which I could not put into words, but felt within… Changes which I do not know are for the best or the worst. Changes that made me fit more, into this loveless world…
Is this because of all the broken things within me? Or is it just me, shifting along the winds of time… No one knows…
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