Falling Slowly

The soundtrack from irish film "Once" remains one of the most beautiful soundtracks that exist out there.

I knew I loved the songs. I just never had the opportunity to indulge myself in something I loved so much (music) lately. Ever since my Macbook died and my phone was stolen. I had nothing I could use to really listen to the tracks I own.

Yesterday, I decided to have a listen again. And without warning, tears started to well up in my eyes. I've always believed music brings you to places of your past which your mind pretends it has forgotten. I was brought back to the time, under a duvet in the cold, watching the film.

Feeling the sting at the ending, wondering what went wrong...or right.

When I was younger, I used to see things in black or white, with no grey areas between. I'm not quite sure anymore, now. Everything's grey. All's right, and all's wrong. We are as right as we are wrong.

Always happy for the future we get, but unhappy for the past we left behind. The past never leaves you.

I think of all the people I've met in my life from time to time. Friends, acquaintances, lovers. And I wonder where they're at now. I wonder what they're doing, if they occasionally were kind enough to place me in their thoughts as well. If they hated me or loved me, if they thought lowly of me, or highly. If they wished the best for me or the worst. If they'd ever want to say hello again.

Empty.

So I clicked on "New Post", and found myself staring at the screen for the past several minutes, fingers ready on the keyboard, but no words to describe these emotions I'm feeling.

What am I feeling?

It's been a massively long time since I wrote. Self censorship is the worst form of censorship. I fear judgment, fear the inadequacy of my choice of words to express myself resulting in distorted messages, yet my complex mind craves to be heard, to be known for what's within this shell - It gets all too lonely to feel 'unknown' by people closest to you. So each time I publish a post on a portal so public, my heart beats that little bit faster. I scrutinise every word, and struggle between lines of ambiguity. Treading on this very thin line, I often tempt myself to switch sides from the one I'm on.

Oh how wonderful it would be if our words can be fluid and free, with readers only ever patting your back, letting out cries of acceptance: "You're not alone! I feel the same! I understand! Oh how very human you are!"

How beautiful and free.... I wish I wasn't so afraid of my own thoughts.

Always & Forever

Such a delusional concept. Romantic, but hold no expectations of it, for forever is only tentative. Nothing's unshakeable, nothing is safe from the inconstant and turbulent events of life.

Timing the intangible, timing time itself is an act I can't wrap my mind around. What is forever anyway? We are as permanent as our minds are able to make us out to be. Self fulfilled prophecies.

Sometimes I wonder

Why do I still cry when a Snow Patrol song plays?

The morning of the new year, I woke up feeling destroyed and positively empty. There is just nothing I could think to say to anyone. I realise I often think about things that I don't own which others do. And thought I ought to change that mentality to pondering a bit more over things that I have, that others don't... But, what DO I own?

I thought I would wake up to a brand new morning of the year feeling happier. But who was I kidding? My life could not change drastically within one night.

I write, and write and write and write, and I cry and I write somemore. But most remain unpublished. Because, there is just no point. Things don't change with words.

The hummingbird.

What that was. The audacity to try and evoke the stillness of my life, stirring up waves of anger in the midst of serenity. Evidently the power he holds over me, has to finally be put to rest.

Because the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.

And I am getting there, with the help of friends, loved ones, ...and myself.

I will not allow myself to react at all, anymore.

Tonight I will look up to the stars and thank them for the clarity I received in the times of darkness. Day will come once more.

Science & Faith

Tonight marks a brand new start to the rest of my life.

--
Everything dissipated into nothingness. I don't even want answers and to know why.
It was fun while it lasted I was naive and ignorant.

Fix you

I miss writing. I miss writing regularly, feeling how amazingly therapeutic it can be.

I was in the company of a very dear friend some days ago. We were talking about the future fraught with uncertainties, and inevitably, started to travel back in time, and talked about our pasts.

I guess it never leaves us behind, our past.

As much anger I have for myself, I am equally angry at the beast who stole it all away from me, and the trauma I was left with. Sometimes, I am so angry, I wish I could meet him a second time just to give him a cold tight slap against his wretched face. I wish I could slam the keyboard furiously and delete him from my life, my past. Time provides such clarity. I was terribly foolish, lost in the game of words, vulnerable to a situation I was not satisfied in. Fair enough, I wasn't already the happiest by that time, but none of that could possibly have made it better.

I see now the lack of remorse. Like my dear friend agreed - the epitome of what makes an asshole.

I was happy in my little bubble. And now, I'm just a mess, trying to fix myself, in order to fix the people I love around me. In order to not hurt the people I have hurt before. I need to fix me.

Silent thoughts

I know nobody comes here anymore. At least, nobody that personally knows me, and vice versa. I know, because that little box in the right column of this page tells me I am the only visitor from Singapore, and the rest are people from the States. Probably the random internet visitors that chanced upon this hidden forgotten blog, due to my old posts that were shared or listed by google searches.

Just individuals that breeze through the page without much impact or interaction, like strangers on the street, and in the cars wheezing past. They were there, but their existence were not quite felt.

It gives me the freedom to write without feeling as judged. Yet sometimes, you wish the subject of your posts - the people you'd been writing for - would chance upon the posts one day. But the likelihood of that is close to zero, and maybe it isn't a perfect idea either.

Perhaps this blog is going to be good for that. It'll be a perfect outlet for me to pretend you know and understand me because I'm always writing for you here, and you always read my thoughts...even though in reality you don't. You don't understand me, and in this growing distance, you will realise you never did.

Music

It's funny how the music I used to love, and used to bring me such joy, only serves to make me cry now - every single time.

Snow Patrol, I (used to) love you.