In Death We Trust.

The past few days have been filled, with both activity and food. As busy as an international jet-setter yet the mind never fails to drift and wander in the moaning moors of contemplation, of disdain and sickening speculation. No doubt I have been happy but that malingerer of a thought has been loitering in the back of my mind throughout. I know not what to think and when I think of what is to happen I can only feel sorry. I can only stand behind the one-way mirror and watch, a spectator and almost an accessory to this heinous crime.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I smell blood in the air. I hope that it only comes from my own wounds...

Beautiful Letdown

'tis the season of the festive yet again. Every year brings difference which is both merry, refreshing and new but that solemn feeling of these 3 months is still with me. I may not have gone travelling far and away this time around but even the short trip to Bentong and the time I get to spend alone brings the same sour taste in my mouth and the long drawn breaths with their flavour of inadequacy.

Is it true that there is a difference in silence? I could swear the silence in the air of Bentong and in the countryside of fair Taiwan are vastly different from the silence I share with my room in which I sit at this very moment.

The year draws to a close yet I feel I have accomplished nothing. I have been told I am prettier, I have been complimented upon by some yet I feel I have let down so many more. I look to the turn of the decade to tell me where I stand in the world. I know that it is my choice and effort which places me where I want to be in the big bad world but what if I just want to know where I am now? Oh wait, I know where I am. The bottom. I guess I can almost see it (*wink*).

Why the Kookaburra Doesn't Laugh Anymore.

The Kookaburra sits on the old gum tree and a very merry king of the bush is he but why can he no longer find reason to laugh? Has his song gone awry? His little equilibrium had been disrupted. He had found something that changed it all for the better. Laugh Kookaburra, laugh but why can he not find the slightest chuckle easy anymore?

Equilibrium was what he rejoiced in escaping from. His vicious little cycle had been broken and maybe instead of sitting around the bush all day, he found a friend to visit the billabong with. Someone he could swoop the swoop and loop the loops in time to. Laughter alone always ends up in horrible blight to the self.

The mate he had found himself to laugh with seemed to have been there by accident and maybe through a chuckle-gone-wrong, he had scared his newfound friend off. Maybe the loops were too loose, maybe his perch was awkward but he was still King of his Bush.

Equilibrium again. His old gum tree. Himself. Let us now laugh at him.

Blah.

The past three days I have been without Internet in my humble abode. Every night I wanted to blog. Every night I had an entry in my head that I was determined I would get down here. Now that I have my Internet again, all the artistic and cryptic content which had so easily found its way onto my mind's slate is lost to me.

I am certain that I will come up with something suiting to weave into an intricate little boy scout badge to stitch upon my sash here but for now, I believe that one phrase will suffice.

Fuck me.

I will further elabourate at a later date.

Propagation of the Truth.

Midnight. All is quiet. The silence is both soothing to the soul as it reeks with its indiscreet slither of insanity. All is still. All but that silent thump. *thump* *thump* *thump*, it goes slowly and - as if growing impatient - it slowly becomes louder and louder until *CRASH*.

What began as an innocent little pat would slowly become an incessant flurry of mad flailing and pounding upon the walls. The masons, the guards and gatekeepers are diligent. They stand fast and hold the fort. The walls will hold. There shall be no defeat this day. This day. What about the next? What about the month ahead? What about the future? Will fatigue not find its way into the souls of these obstacles? These shields of meat? Will not we succumb?

The city will soon tire of the ringing in its ears. Blow upon blow, it grew from a silent rhythmic harmony to a skippy beat and when the cacophony reaches its crescendo, will the city still be there? Will the walls hold? Not on this day. We are tired, we are hurt, but we have yet to be broken.

Hold fast and still my dears. Perhaps they can't see us shaking from the outside... We will win and they will never know of this...

D.A.R.D.

What we can always rely on with confidence is who we are - our own personal Northern Stars to guide us through the sins we commit. The blank slates of our life continuously imprinted upon by grace, marred by betrayal, caressed by romance and love, defaced beyond recognition by loss and missed opportunities yet embroidered with memories of beauty and the mystical. The sins of our fathers, they haunt us like they were our own. Countless folds upon folds of unvoiced agony alongside the multitude of tears shed for joy, sorrow, grief and anger emanate within us. Silently dictating which path we take along the labyrinthine journey of life. Every step one takes along their path inevitably becomes an indispensable part of them, becoming one with the traveller's personal vat. Personal. Who we are. Who are we?

Some believe that we are the product of what we are put through, twisted metal scraps regurgitated from the grinder. Others believe that we are what we were taught to be, perverse images of flamboyant ideals.

Although I cannot invalidate the two, I must add that there is more to the equation. We are also the fruit born of what we want to become. Our capability to learn through interaction and through observation allows us to take a look at the bigger picture and decide what we would like to become. What I speak of has been labelled as intra-personal intelligence. Such introspection exists but is not practiced by all. Looking into one's self is not always simple and may be harrowing for some.

It is the examination of what we have become as a result of the collective trauma and glee which we have seen and been put through. We do actively choose what we become but it may not always be a choice we readily or even consciously make but there is always a choice. Heavily dependent on what one believes in for him or herself: True Justice, True Love, True Peace, True Joy, the list continues. The quest we embark upon is for the personal development of ourselves as engines of our beliefs.

Alas, through the twine of some lives, there is not time enough for such petty self-indulgence. Life carries on and little or no concern goes along with the decisions which are made with repercussion to the neighbour. The road is rocky, worn are the wheels but the truck which is them will still trample upon the livestock it ploughs through. The collateral is of no consequence to the actor. The injured lie broken and spiteful and decide to bring their truck to the fields...

Thankfully, I have no car yet.

The incoherence. I love it! I love it!!

True.

It's true, when I am not so exasperated with my life, I stop posting here. Not to be mistaken, we all have our little exasperations in life. It's just that I believe that I can deal with this exasperation for now. So much so that I feel no need to spill my heart out here. There have been times where I wanted to but could not be bothered to do it.

I've found myself angry, moody, agitated, enraged and sad but lacked the initiative to bring it here. Been keeping busy with gaming, performances and convincing myself that I've got a job. What a farce. For now, I believe that I have better things to do than this but I am fairly certain that I will be back though.

Where The Yellow-Brick Road Crumbles...

Life is but a dream. That is what it seems to be at the present. A mundane, meandering, slow-boating dream filled to the brim with subtle chaos.

'lo the pressing of those on the other side of the glass as they smear their faces upon the dome of the life I would like to call my own. Watch as they attempt to leave an impression of their hideous grimace upon the frames of my mind. They leave nothing but more; more shit on my wall to face.

It seems a custom I hold to myself that everything I attempt will end in failure. The confidence I portray is but the presence of the Masque or care (which in the case of the latter would be the lack thereof).

Less than a moon has past since I was told that I had spent close to two years working on something which might be deemed insufficient or irrelavent. Would I face the axe for the shame which currently dwells within me? The bile of bitterness returns directed otherwise at not only those which shot me to pieces but to the shards over the ground which made up myself.

Far from eager to learn of the fruit my labour has borne, far from ready to approach strangers and request that I be compensated for my 8.30-6.00 hours and far from ready to deal with everything else being smeared on my face.

Escapist, guide my path. Where shall I hide next?

Standing Alone In Time

Second Upper eh? Good job brother. I am truly proud.

A conversation between a friend and myself a handful of days ago entailed some reminiscing and recalling of some of the memories which I used to run away from until recently. Honest and true. Oddly enough I never believed in running away from problems yet I still ran. I ran for my dear life. Or did I run away from everything else as well?
This new place I find myself in, this strange new place is soothing and somewhat carefree yet I feel empty. As corny as it sounds, I have lost a part of myself. I ran away from it. My friend insisted that I could find it again, I just needed to do some back-tracking. Not true. I have dropped it. I have lost it. It is impossible to reclaim. I could try to rebuild what was lost but I believe that it would never be what I used to be.

The masque. Beautifully decorated and an essential piece of my life. The layers it holds protects me from who I really am, it protects those around me from what I do not wish to share. Friends are beautiful people and they offer to help but this journey, as I have reiterated on countless occassions, is one that I alone have to face. Face. Funny. The masque is something which I still have with me and something that will be with me for the rest of my life. Of that I am very sure.

I do honestly believe that many live like I do. Some keep to their masque together very well, others cannot help but hold the broken pieces of theirs together in the hopes that nobody else is paying attention. There are so many of us out there, we are the same yet all alone. Hiding from something which we do not think we deserve. Hiding from society and cliques who do not need to know, who do not need the added salt upon their own wounds. Common courtesy in some circles, secrecy and mistrust in others. It is interesting how being polite can also be seen as mistrust which is a very unattractive yet unessential component of good manners.

I also finally admitted that I had learnt a thing or two from someone I once knew. Alongside the masque, I now have my very own personal fortress. How about a little bit of Wayne's Great Wall of Shit to hold people at the border? Beautiful. As unfair as it seems, I doubt anyone will get hurt in the process and hopefully I would have let these walls down by the time someone else comes into my life. For now, I just want to snuggle up in my blanket on my bed and in my fetal curl, be lonely, with these four cats.

On This Gusty Night.

How I love the rain and all the stormy friends it brings along with her.
This night was beautiful. It continues to be as the breeze rolls in through my little window and caresses my face in the night as I type this out in my little lamplight. The beauty of the night seems to call for melancholy almost naturally. Nature's own little calling for a dark and slow groan, to remind itself of what within resides.
What a clever cellist the wind is with my steep abode's eleventh-floor windows and balcony.
How the tempo besmudges me with this beautiful state of emotion. How it droops my eyelids and sings to my heart to remind it of the darkness which still resides within. Slowly as It brushes against my lips and my chin does it enchant me with the memory of the requiem my own hollow self would hold if I held it against a listening ear.
I gaze outside and notice how Man's little decorations of light and bricks only seem to feel so still and stagnant amidst the life of tonight. The life of the night and the canvas of the world in symbiosis, in agreement that I should see and recall what I do:
Pristine white, pure and flawless, keen and guiltless, she mounts her ebony steed. To be beside her was a gift for that sun and moon. Quite like this one but with less beautiful scenery. I know not what else would bring about this beautiful little frame to mind and heart other than the yearning of this night. This gusty beautiful night...

Objectification.

Yet another revalation.

It is odd how this one still feels light and freer than it once did yet in not questioning it, this one has no answers for what happenned earlier. It is still confused as to what this all means and it tries not to ponder too much upon it. This one yet ponders. It ponders about what could have caused this great crevasse between the two so great that even a wave would seem hazardous.
It would like to believe that It was over everything that has happenned and that it was free from whatever dredges it felt were holding it back and despite no longer feeling any weight from the little past yet this one cannot help but feel the sourish tinge when it was again reminded of how cold the ice-box really was.
Noticing in how this knot in the yarn is far from unravelled and smoothened out, this one will retract its thesis upon which this one presumed that it was over everything and that it could thenceforth enjoy the gaeity of life's bounty. This one must ponder more upon it.
T'was said that true love be eternal yet they never spoke of what would happen to them if indeed things ran awry. Does the immortality of this silly noun called love carry on and become a walking cadavre oozing with perversions of its former self?

This one gazes upon its wall of shit and smiles at the curves which seek to eke out an intricate design of irony which although appealing, destroys itself.

Ah yes, this one ponders too much, it thinks.

A Rant??

The past few months have been beautiful. The melancholy and pain were an artistic twist in my life which will be remembered for quite a while on my account. Alongside that, I have learnt to enjoy myself and to do what I want without much thought of repercussion. I sit here now with very little time left for what many would have already completed. Many people rush here and there and up and down all day long for weeks and months on end for what I have in my hands. I on the other hand have left it hanging for months untouched. My final academic leap before I see the end of my undergraduate academic life yet still I feel no urge to complete this last mile in the journey.
I shun the responsibility upon me to do this not because I cannot do it but because I do not find myself in the condition to want to complete it. I believe that I will eventually come to and have to rush the work but until then, I will continue to smother my conscience and continue my life as it is at present.

I Guess Not.

Well, as unconventional as this is for me, I believe that I should say:
Haha.
Although the past six months and more seem to have been an utter waste of time and a complete escapist path, tonight I feel fine. I feel so free tonight that I simply cannot believe that I own this blog :P.

I feel bubbly and warm. A feeling which has long eluded me in genuinity. I feel free. As if a great burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I am not sure what has happenned. Nor do I believe that it is important for me to find out. I shall revel in my mood for as long as it lasts. No brooding, no regrets, just thoughtful joy. At least for the moment =).

*bump!*

Regret?

Many people have told me that I should carry on and that I should never have tried so hard. Many people who care about me told me that I should not have done what I had done when I was doing it. They called me stupid, they called me less than a man for what I had done for it. Now I look back upon it all... I look at what is happenning now... although I had wished for it to end better but we can't all have our cake and eat it can we? If that were the case we would all lead simpler and happier lives. Despite discouragement from a myriad of people... even the very person I fell for, I held on. Because I was stupid? Less than a man? Because I had bad taste? I held on through the toughest of times, through the roughest of treatments that the ordeal could throw at me. I never gave up... because I believe in You.
There is no typo there. I still believe in You. No doubt I cannot imagine myself with You ever again but I believe in You. I would like to tell You that but I am afraid it has been long since You have had ears for me. I would like to tell You that I still care. I still care about how You are feeling, how your day was, what You are up to, how things are coming along for You. I've wondered for about a year now. I would like to ask You of all these things but life is never that simple is it?
For all those "stupid" things, for what the situation is now, the only regret I have is for being bitter for too long.

And now we wait.

After a night and more than half a day's worth of sleep, I have come to better terms with what I learnt earlier last night. However that currently is not the main concern. I learnt even more last night. This further knowledge was not of the same genre of its predecessor. It hurt. Disappointed. Instilled disbelief. Made me feel betrayed. Made me feel like the fool in a very cruel game.

All I can do now is to try and get things sorted out and to ask to talk with You. I want to clear things up. If only You would agree to talk with me... Till then I wait.

Whirlpools. Chaos. Havoc. I am lost.

Lost again...

Tonight I asked a question which I wish I had not. An innocent question with all the best of intentions seemingly created another limbo for myself. I would like to apologize to BB for asking and for putting BB into a difficult situation. You have not betrayed your friend nor have you done anything wrong, which is why I apologize.

The hopes which I had built for myself in trying to pick up the dredges of our friendship has come to a halt for now. It will not progress any further until I find myself capable of digesting what I have learnt tonight.

I rage not for what has been revealed. I merely feel like I am a broken bottle taped together again and someone has just spun me and then tossed me into a brick wall upon which I have been scattered. The shards are everywhere. I am once again, lost. Dazed and confused.

I hope time will help me with this one.

This side...

Another dream. About less than half a year ago, the dreams were of things we had done together, things we used to do, things I loved to do. I would wake up angry, angry at myself for having let such bliss slip, angry at You for having let these times fade. Today's was different. They have been different for a little while now. Perception. I feel somewhat happier now. I have always been somewhat happy inside. Just to see that You seem happier since You left me, more free, more... You.
I am happy for you. Apologies for the lack of physical distance between us sometimes. I have tried my best to give you space and time. I know not if my attempts were successful so I can only hope that they were of help. I know not what You are going through, I did my most to pay as little attention as I could but never could I stop wondering about what you might be doing and how you might be feeling.
With this, I might reiterate that I wish You happiness and that I hope someday soon, like we once talked about almost a year ago that we might one day sit down and enjoy a meal together like the friends we want to be. I can only hope that it is not only "the friends that I want to be".

No further pinch.

Now You Tell Me...

It's been a while. Apparently I'm not like Pomme-Pomme or others who seem to have a lot to blog about. I don't have photos of my lifestyle which I'm ready to share with the world, a specific interest which encompasses what I do and what I blog about all the time. You notice my labels? Look for wall of shit. That's how I treat my blog. It's my wall of shit and when I feel like taking a dump, I do.

Monday, after my exam I was waiting for Pomme-Pomme to have lunch. An old friend came out of the exam hall before she did. We had a cigarette and my friend asks about You. It was interesting how she did not yet know of the break up but then and again, we were not particularly what one would call close friends. Her question was "how are you and that girl?" and my response to that was "it's almost been a year since we've broken up" but on hearing half of my response she remarked "you've been together for so long?!". "Oh...". Interestingly enough, my friend decided to promote You further. Commending me on being able to get such a "cute, pretty" girlfriend.

For people who know what my blog is like, sorry to keep you waiting, here's the pinch. I was stumped for a while once I heard my friend call You that. My mind could only say, "?!". It pains me to say that I had forgotten what You used to look like to me before it all went South. I have long since not seen the same thing for a while now. It would seem to be that I can no longer remember how I used to be able to drown myself in those eyes and all those times I corrected my cousin that the girl on the street he was checking out was ugly and when he said "yeah yeah, *name*'s the prettiest!" and I would reply with a wide grin and go "of course!". I really wonder where that all went. Does beauty really belong with the eye of the beholder? Has my perspective changed so much? I would like to believe that there is no more venom between the both of us but I can't help but feel the sting every now and then when You appear or turn up in a conversation. 5 hours on the balcony tells me this much, I'm not over this relationship but it would seem that I am over You. Where is the "cute, pretty" girl now? "Not bad, not bad".

I'm lonely, dejected and I miss someone. I just wonder why I really don't give a shit about anything anymore.

Drizzling.

I remember holding you, holding you so tight.
I remember feeling the warmth of you in my arms once again.
The smell of your hair always seemed to sober me to the fact that I loved you.
The stuff of magic, how simple I thought it would be just to hold you like that,
just to engage in that embrace, be the embrace.
To be able to feel your heart beat,
to lie next to you listening to you breath,
to try and breathe with you,
like one being,
To watch you sleep.

Seeing that again brings memories so dear to me,
but the words you spoke and what you asked of me was no short from baffling.
It reminded me that it was not real.
That question awakened me and slapped me out of it although I kept dreaming.
How could it be that you would ask that of me?
How could it be true that you would want that still?
How could I answer that?

We just lay there, as I held you in my arms.
So simply, so close.
The tenderness of your lips still tingles on mine,
I saw it all again, the way it was, the way I thought it should be.
But I knew.
Once you find out you're dreaming, you rise in disappointment.
I do not know how I would answer what you asked of me.
Impossible.

But I fear the answer should fall far from yes.

Hail?

Hail to the year of 2009. The festive season has come and will be coming to an end pretty soon. It is times like these where the feeling of lonesomeness peaks. 2008, a year of change according to the Oracle in my life right now (my dearest Panyang). I could not disagree with her. I saw many things change in the said year and what choice does one have but to adjust (or try to) in an attempt to be able to live with the changes.
I have found myself overwhelmed with some of these changes and my attempts to cope seem to have failed and are probably still failing. Unlike the intelligent sentient being which I supposedly am, I do not seem to be changing my approach to coping with these changes and making the best of my "resources". Instead I still cling onto the failure of a scheme which I have devised for myself in which I live for the moment and not pay a cent's attention to what is to come although it is haranguing me constantly. I seem to be able to constantly tell myself that I can succeed in ignoring the fact that it (my action plan) is not working and I am still suffering from what seems to be withdrawal-most-vile from the dredges of a relationship which failed so utterly. I seem to have let it toss myself out of whatever direction I had vaguely shaped for myself prior to falling head-over-heels.
Today it seems normal for me to feel that grunge in my belly everytime I am exposed to anything which hints at romance (or loneliness) and hold onto the thought so that I might further brood upon it as I throw myself back into flashbacks of what has been and what could not have been. Even my little getaway trip to Taiwan was not spared as every waking moment in that stupid little vacation, every bit of lovely scenery, every step I took in that strange and foreign country was taken with the wariness that I was there alone essentially despite being surrounded by family.
It would be a vile and malicious lie if I were to now say that I was not in love with You back then. It would be a second vile and malicious lie if I said that I was in love with you now. It would seem to be that I just have a case of absurd lonliness.
My coping mechanism is a primal one. Hedonism. Ever since that day, I have paid little attention to what consequence many of my actions and decisions would entail. I do what I can, when I can. I have joined a gaming community, I've shrugged most classes for half a year, I've let myself get silly drunk without much thought for others anymore. I've lost track of who I am. I've lost track of who I want to be. I sit here now because I have had a moment where I could lay back and think about what I will be doing in 4 month's time... I have no idea. With the grades which I have achieved, I do not see much of a bright future. I do not expect to be able to do what I had initially set out to do. I may have passed most of my papers but I am still essentially a failure. I am lost at what I am to do right now. I have no proper working experience to boast. I have not a rich family to buffer me as I try my hand at setting up my own business (nor the drive, interest or knowledge).
I blame not You for this. I might add that You have probably contributed but otherwise, like my old self, I will not blame You for it. Explaning myself stops there. I have made decisions most unwisely and the consequence of my hedonism is that I have a very blurry - if not bleak - future ahead of me. I do not relish what lies ahead.
On an ending note for this post, I would like to revise Shakespeare who was quoted: "T'is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all" and say that I believe he was wrong in my case. Losing my virginity has altered not my appetite for sharing a woman's bed but having loved and lost without the benefit of actual physical distance from one another is chilling, cruel, frustrating and nothing short of agony.
The incoherence here is astonishing... I am still myself.