BEAUTIFULLY

Three months ago, I didn't feel the need to recount every detail of my high school life. Instead I desperately tried to cling on to the last shards of it, telling myself college would be just as bittersweet for me. I was apprehensive. I was scared. I just wanted to fully comprehend growing up. I was too preoccupied steeling myself for the impending abrupt transition I forgot to savour it one last time.

Those five years are still magic I've just started appreciating.

Everyone grows and develops in high school. But strangely enough, it seems as though time paused for that brief five years, where we waited impatiently for college doors to open. Doubtlessly, opinions and friends formed, releasing a different 'us' into the volatile grasps of society.

Yet

As I developed. As I started seeing shades of grey in a hypothetically black and white world. High school kept life in check, kept the going seemingly constant. I saw the same people I had been seeing since I was thirteen, hated the same teachers, had the same deliciously unhealthy food. Even as I made new friends, I would inevitably meet the old and we would sincerely make empty promises to do everything that was once the centre of our universe.

Even when the unnecessary skiving and naive pacts amounted to nearly nothing, high school kept me as sane as humanly possible.

Perhaps its the stress of college or the lack of dear friends in close proximity,

but I'd go back in a heartbeat.

THE TRUTH IS

i have this intense need to write about something, anything. but what?

i'm supposed to be packing. i'm supposed to be envied by. four nights in paradise then off to another three of laughs and drunken haziness. but all i really want to do is sit here and muse. i want that old sensation of being in my own world, where i could determine the axis and how the ball spun. where i was eternally sixteen and the person i always dreamt of being.

when i was young i thought i'd be either the mainstream definition of awesome or the ironically widespread individualistic version of it. instead i'm the listless dreamer who doesn't have a clue what to even desire. still picking petty fights and changing my mind. still living my imagination. still going with societal norms.

i thought i would have grown a backbone by now. or at least a solid perspective. i thought i'd choose my friends instead of hope they chose me. i thought i'd value the same things. why do others' stamp of approval still matter? why does pleasing them still matter?

i once wanted to be like her, like him perhaps. but i never will.

why is life disappointing?

will i lose whatever beliefs i have miraculously held on to? perhaps next year, perhaps in ten. but i don't want to. right now i want to be the girl who naively believes she can change someone, something and perhaps have a life worth living. part of me isn't anymore but i never want to be a disillusioned forty-year-old who desires bills more than smiles. deny it, of course you will. we won't be our parents, our predecessors, you say. yet. what are the chances of us straying from the evil we know all too well?

humanity is everything. without it, there is no life. there is only existence.

existing means nothing.

SHOOBEE-DOO

I still have no other social media outlets. So here.

Just listen. Its too amazing.

NOLITE TE BASTARDES CARBORUNDORUM

i want to write. i want to vent. i want to tell the world how i feel right now. i want you to know how my hands tremble from cold as i type this. i want to shout about how a mere memory is dominating my life right now. how old songs slowly calm me down, their odd familiarity as comforting as snuggling up to an old friend. i want to lament my lack of inhibitions of late. i want to scream out begging you to pay attention to this inner tumult. but no words come.

no eloquent ones i mean.

I wrote that a long time ago, at the height of an immense frustration at a sudden loss for words when I needed them so. Somehow acknowledging it has jolted me into realising the alarming frequency at which this is occurring.

I don't know what to feel.

lie to me please. lie to me.
perhaps one day i'll delude myself into believing you.
we'll be happy. honest.

ORT

I'm seventeen. Sometimes I still fumble and say sixteen. Because that was the golden age the young me always wanted. But its gone. Like the wisp of the wind, sixteen is but a memory.

And I'm still here. Wading in uncertainty, testing the waters, never daring to take the plunge. I can. I want to. I just don't know how to.

How do I decide? When I stammer soundlessly when asked what I want. Cowardly fearing uttering words I may regret.

To be the idealistic dreamer or the grounded realist?

Desire. Desire to unleash my naive belief in perfection. Out of the confines of the moonlight, into deep-rooted permanency. Comprehension. Comprehension that nothing but something, anything tangible would bear more fruit.

How does one trade life for passion? How does one barter away passion for life?

People say there is no life in a loveless existence. Yet. They never talk of an obsolete passion, hollowed by impotent endeavors.

Decisions. Decisions.

Wretched decisions.

Can I ask you something? he said.
Yes. Of course.
Are we going to die?
Sometime. Not now.

-Cormac McCarthy

Not now.

SALVATION

I live for poetic justice. I look for it in every crooked twist of life. In the sparkle of a chandelier, in the death of a stray dog, in the illusion of a falling star. Then I sit and toy with the slightly distorted thoughts in my mind with the wonderment of a child. Devour the quaint satisfaction.

Today, I sat in an old shop-lot. I've spent many a dinner sitting in the same shop-lot. It reeked of Chinese Tea and paint-coated metal chairs. But today. The constant Cantonese chatter reduced to nothing but a distant din. And suddenly the walls started to cave in. My mind cringed internally. The chicken felt slimy, distasteful. I set it down. Fingers on temples now.

Then I felt it. Injustice. Despondency. Pandemonium of inadequacy. Looked up. Looked around. Then I absorbed it. All around me. So many lives that would never amount to anything. Lives of routine and returning to bleak flats. Punctuated by pregnant dissatisfaction and old, crushed dreams. Black and white lives struggling in a technicolour time.

I searched but I couldn't find any poetic justice in this. No sparks of beauty to make it all worthwhile. No immense inner struggle to keep one strong. No silent mantras of I am, I am, I am. Just a facade of contentment with sub-par lives.

The room became too oppressive.

I don't want to end up like that. Fear transfigures from that.

I fear it.

I AM NOT A CRAZY PERSON. PROBABLY. POSSIBLY. PARTIALLY.

Bitch please.

Stop bugging me. Its the middle of the night and I haven't responded in the past 30 minutes. Its my prerogative if I want to load on hoodies and sweatpants for no apparent reason. I can blast my Beats and listen to Cobra Starship asking girls to get off their dicks. I'll watch Kingsley rant about how the Ipad is the new tampon. I'll cry my eyes out to the Igor Breyman Every 15 Minutes video if I want to.

This doesn't mean I hate you cause I love all you crazy people to bits. I do. Mostly. Perhaps.

But honestly, shut the fuck up. Let me do my shit. Alone.

IDEALS

i get attached very easily. to a book, to an oversized sweater, to my new earphones. to a person perhaps. i relish in every beautiful detail that enters my life. i hold it, memorising its contours, twisting every tangible object between my fingers. its so bloody perfect. something happens. a word, a look, a scratch, a lie. then the dream shatters. it may take an hour, a day, a year even. but sooner or later it ruptures.

and then my heart breaks a little on the inside.

i clutch on to the jagged pieces desperately, believing that the memory of its beauty will reign supreme. but it never does. disillusioned and ruined, i let it go. but months and years will pass. and one day a sudden touch, an old picture reminds me of what i once had. its frightening allure but never the aches of the aftermath.

and my heart breaks a little more, wondering how i ever let such a thing go.

yearning takes over and i would wander around in the narrow alleys of my heart until i find what i want. and then the cycle starts again. and i allow myself to. because a fleeting pleasure, a temporary liberation is worth everything. even if i curse reality a thousand times through it all.

PROCRASTINATION

things change so quickly. i just want to remember here and now. i am thankful for these people in my life.

and then some.

WANT. NEED.

Writing is incredibly scary sometimes. All forms of it. Texting, chatting, essaying. Sometimes I have a vague notion floating in my mind, sometimes an incessant worry or even a faint doubting of something, anything. I never want to pen it down. Seeing it in writing, my deepest thoughts and hidden ideals, just makes it so real. Suddenly its no longer a kaleidoscope of tangled words I can ignore. Its there. Its real.I thought this once. I felt this once. A second ago. A year ago. It doesn't matter. I can relive it, desiring to or not. A longing turns out to be an infatuation [hi Mabel. ;)], a fear becomes a lifelong aversion. It does make everything better sometimes, spilling it all, even if just to a white space before my eyes. But when things change, it just makes me cringe. I don't want to remember some things. I don't want to know how I felt before. It just changes how I feel about it now. I don't want to long for something in the past. I don't want to continue loving or despising something desperately just because of the concrete past glaring at me every once in a while. I want it to be perfect. I want something to be perfect. Its may be just my nonsensical schoolgirl ideal or fantasy but I just want something to be perfect. Something so perfect I could cling to it forever and believe in infinity. Infinite opportunities, infinite dreams, infinite human relationships, infinite changes, infinite stability. Infinity. What a hatefully amazing word it is.

Wow I sure drifted.

No paragraphs. Just how thoughts are formed at nearly 2am. :)