Epitaph of Misery

2012-01-16T23:05:00.000+08:00

how did it come to this, a bitter taste is all i'm left with.

2012-01-16T19:33:00.004+08:00

i somehow always fall short of what other guys could do for their girlfriends; send them home across the country, read sweet poems to them over the phone, buy them expensive bags, make them feel like a princess. i somehow never seem to be able to do what other guys do. i don't think i ever can. i give up on this. i give up on myself. i never was cut out for love. 4 failed relationships testify to that.

2011-12-20T02:31:00.000+08:00

this roller coaster's got me feeling nauseous

2011-12-09T18:48:00.002+08:00

tomorrow's my birthday, but i don't feel anything with regards to it being just a few hours away. and right now with this update, just 10 minutes away. maybe because this week has been really shitty. maybe because it isn't getting any better, even on the eve of my birthday. and the prospect of having half of my guests not turn up for my party just.. makes everything seem pathetic and pointless. this is probably the most fucked up birthday week i've ever had.

Thanks for your present <3

But I guess you're right..

I'll watch you gloat

2011-12-08T22:10:00.002+08:00

i sit on my rocking chair, and above me the sky is ablaze. rocking slowly, i look up to regard the fireballs tearing the sky apart. nothing much stirs in me, and i remain unperturbed. my eyes are dark against the whites. i rise from my chair and walk back into the house, i open the door to my bedroom, and find there is nothing there. i feel puzzled because there was always something in that room. but this time, it was completely empty. i close the door, and walk out to the backyard. a lone tree stood there, with its branches stretched out in a large umbrella. i walked up to it and reminisced the time i had spent sitting under its canopy, watering it and pulling out weeds from amongst its roots.. alas, i did indeed spend a lot of my time and effort with this tree. and as i stood and looked at the tree, it began shedding its leaves. green turned to brown as they fell to the ground, descending slowly. the tree awakened and said to me 'i have decided to shed them, for i would rather let them fall than let the conflagration above raze everything.' i look up, but the sky no longer burns. instead, an overcast sky has taken its place. i look to the tree, and it says 'pick up my leaves and put them back onto my branches.' i gaze at the fallen, browned out leaves, and sigh. it would be a seemingly impossible task to place all its leaves back on, and even if i did manage the task, it would be a tree full of brown leaves, no longer the lush green canopy it once had. and i wonder to myself, if i would have to water and nourish this tree once more to grow its leaves once again. and as i slowly ponder, droplets of water start to fall about me, as the clouds above start to erupt in precipitation. i would continue to speak my mind if not for lack of metaphors. i guess now is not the time.

yes, he did after all.

2011-12-06T16:20:00.001+08:00

I hope you'll be happy now

clocks

2011-11-30T23:46:00.002+08:00

i sit at the desk, with a book of memories before me. the words etched in ink on the pale yellow paper brought back visions and voices of events long past. a clock sat elsewhere on the table, with its complex inner workings and mechanisms ticking away. i marvel at the beauty of its complexity, with a thousand over tiny pieces turning and clicking, accurately keeping time. i turn the knob on the back of its face, and its hands rotate around the central axis. counter clockwise they went, for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. i sit and turn the clock backwards, until i finally stop. the place around me looks different. everything looks different to me. things were different back then. and it seemed like i viewed everything through glass. i walked to the place where we first met, and there i was on the couch, and there you were sitting opposite me. and i went on, where i was in bed, clutching my phone and texting you. and i moved on, to the times where i had your head to my chest and you were in tears. and i travelled further to when you were in the car with me, speeding down the highway. and when we were on the phone, talking about what to do about ourselves. alas, but now, i was nothing save for a casual observer, unable to change the past. and yet looking back, and seeing how things could've been so much better for us. i awake at my desk, only to find the clock back to its original time, ticking away. tick tock tick tock went the clock. and the future became the present, and the present became the past. and i looked on, as i had only the future to look to. whereas the past, the past remained forever etched on the book that lay before me, its words never changing, its lines ever staying.

Moby Kraken

2011-11-28T23:24:00.003+08:00

so i sailed on my galley over the crests of waves. storms battered the seas and hurricanes ripped the skies apart. mother nature was ever unrelenting, and i was but at the mercy of her wrath. powerless to do much, i rode out the storms, in hopes of brighter dawns. with time, the weather settled. the winds calmed and the ship rocked no longer. but the air was still thick with the pervasive atmosphere of more bad times to come. i stood on the deck of my galley. with no one else on ship, i was alone. the kraken rose from the depths, and clung to the starboard face of the ship. it spoke to me, with its years of esoteric knowledge. it spoke of visions of a brighter future, one of happy times and less tense waters. but as with all other ventures, the route there was never going to be easy. and alas, much was not within my grasp. the kraken, with its tentacles, handed me a map. and from there i saw various places to go too, some of extreme lengths. the map told me what i already knew, the journey wasn't going to be easy, and i may not make it back together with my ship, the forlorn hope. i thanked the kraken, and it submerged back into the abyss. setting off from where i was, i took the ship towards my destination. i sailed for two days and two nights, with mostly myself for company. out of the sea, a monstrous whale surfaced, its yawning cavern of a mouth open to the world above. the forlorn hope, too slow and too small to evade the monstrosity, had no choice but to enter the whale's mouth. i clung on to my beloved ship as it was battered on the journey down the gullet. eventually it came to a halt, as it ran aground on some strange part of the whale's organ. all was dark, and i lit a kerosene lamp to light my way. i looked at the map, but it was of little use, i never thought the kraken would have been inside the belly of a whale before, even one as big as this. i left my ship behind and explored. the area where my ship ran aground was empty, save for a single mirror, intricately designed with a carved wooden frame. i stepped forward and saw myself in the reflection with my kerosene lantern in hand. i said to my reflection 'what is it you want from me?' my reflection cried, and replied 'how would i know what you want me to do if you wouldn't say anything?' perplexed, i moved on. i walked for days into the endless tunnels, searching and exploring but to no avail. at times i asked myself what i was looking for. i asked myself what was i in search of. the tunnels looked familiar at some points in time. but then again, everything looked pretty familiar. how different could various parts of an intestine look like? after days, i found an exit into a large cavernous space. i looked further, but somehow wasn't surprised at what i saw. i was back in the stomach of the whale. i questioned myself, arent intestines supposed to have an entrance an exit? in this case i seemed to have entered some kind of labyrinth and ended up making a huge round, only to arrive back where i started. exhausted from my travels and depressed and disillusioned by my failure, i returned to the galley. i opened the door to my quarters and lay my tired body on the bed, placing the lantern on the floorboards. the world grew dark around me as i closed my eyes to rest. now, i had nothing left, save for forlorn hope.

2011-11-20T16:20:00.001+08:00

I'm sorry I can't make things as good as they should be.

2011-11-20T02:13:00.000+08:00

still my fault

2011-11-03T23:38:00.003+08:00

the feeling of disappointment always gets worse when you expect something to go well. and that's exactly how we all felt when we heard the bad news about the deployment site. i thought it was a prank at first, but eventually it turned out to be true. i didn't think it would be that bad until we got to the site. it was a mess. they had only completed tech deployment. and even then, they did some of it wrong. nothing else was up. stores were all over the place. we hardly knew where anything was. the admin area smell of piss and there were bags full of trash left undisposed of. we probably would have been better off heading over at night and deploying everything ourselves. in the heat it took us damn near forever to get things done.

after the first night things got a little bettter. but the heat was horrid. i had a headache the whole day and my skin was peeling. there wasn't much to do before, between and after engagements and i didn't have my blackberry. it was pretty shit. i felt detached and i was missing my girlfriend really bad. we didn't have much opportunity to text cos i had to conserve my batttery. but in all the spare time i had, i reflected on the things we tend to take for granted; a bed and pillow (i slept on a bench/safari bed and used my lbv as a pillow), a shower, toilets, lights, clean clothes, clean environments (ours was filled with flies and mosquitoes) and the time spent with your loved ones. i missed her to hell. i sat in the tentage thinking about what she wrote on her livejournal, jogging back my memories of our relationship and the times we spent together; supper at valmia's 'territory', our vday date, our first month 'celebration' at phuture, sittting at scape and talking, squeezing her hand while we walk and feeling her squeeze back, watching her walk towards me with her arms outstretched, watching her lying with her chin on my chest looking up at me with her bespectacled eyes, driving down the highway with he, running through the queue at the mummy ride at uss, having her potato salad for breakfast. all the time i had gave me the opportunity to think about things. but well, i'm back in camp and i'm glad i'll be seeing her soon. other than that, i think the outfield was pretty fun. i guess it is pretty shitty to be shitting in the forest and all but well, how often those one sleep and shit in the forest?

inherit these traits, so who's to blame?

2011-10-29T08:28:00.000+08:00

on the eve of this exercise.

2011-10-29T01:03:00.005+08:00

this is nothing new. and yet i am still troubled by it. i only ask that you don't do anything that would get you into trouble, thereby undoing all your effort in building a future for yourself. i wouldn't know for sure if you'd do it. there're still a few years before you head to australia. i don't want to make any presumptions on what's about to happen. if you feel like this is the same as what he did to you and you dont wish to go through it, then you're free to go. i don't want to control you. i don't want to hold you back. if this is the life you want to fulfill, i don't want to drag you away.

i have asked myself if this is what i want before. i have reconsidered in my head. but like all things else, there are good points and bad points. i too have good and bad points and i'm sure at some point in time you would, or would have, weighed them out.

2011-10-28T23:40:00.000+08:00

i worry, because i care. and i care so much.

and i care, because i love you.

i dont want to see you sad.

2011-10-26T13:24:00.000+08:00

i tend to take things very hard on myself.

2011-10-25T09:26:00.001+08:00

sorry for giving you such an unhappy 8th month

2011-10-24T11:02:00.001+08:00

Let's not live in denial

2011-10-20T00:10:00.000+08:00

don't make it seem like it's nothing.

it means so much more to me

I don't know

2011-10-18T23:26:00.001+08:00

'but actually one day i wouldn't give a fuck anymore'

2011-10-14T11:20:00.003+08:00

"It's not like I haven't tried, I tried very hard. And I don't just give up like that"

"He got buy you anything anot?"

"Just birthday present lor"

gratitude

2011-10-06T23:39:00.002+08:00

thank you, for all you've been doing the past few days. it has made me happy. i would add in a couple of hearts here but somehow i cant do it on my bb when blogging :/

Uneasy hearts, they weigh the most

2011-10-05T00:31:00.000+08:00

old feelings die hard.

2011-10-03T23:09:00.002+08:00

i guess i cant be good at everything. and i guess it all has to start somewhere, one thing at a time.

2011-10-02T22:16:00.001+08:00

sigh. i guess i never was good at buying gifts. then again i never really made a good boyfriend to begin with. and i never really was a good clean guy, like how you thought i would be.

2011-10-01T23:31:00.002+08:00

Was any of that really necessary? Was my involvement really needed? Would I have to damage my reputation even more by having to tell him in the face to back the fuck up? How long would he want to continue living in denial? How long more would he want to be so sure of himself only to be disappointed?

Blunt Axe

2011-09-24T13:11:00.001+08:00

You must be happy, now that I'm out of the way. And my presence is no longer significant. Then again, I never really mattered anyway.

2011-09-23T02:21:00.002+08:00

Think before you speak, if you even speak at all. I believe in kindness, I don't believe in taking things for granted.

2011-09-21T23:39:00.000+08:00

and there i was, in disarray and disbelief, begging you not to leave.

2011-09-21T09:17:00.000+08:00

It's all for you

regret

2011-09-14T23:49:00.000+08:00

i hate myself for what i did.

getting a grip

2011-09-11T22:07:00.003+08:00

it hasn't been easy. looking back.. it wasn't easy. coming to terms with certain facets of what has been and what is about to be. accepting the truth and taking the time to exercise some understanding. come to think of it. it still isn't easy. i gave myself for this. put myself in as far as i could for you. i just hope it's enough.

douche

2011-09-07T20:58:00.001+08:00

it sucks to be stuck under someone like this. such hypocrisy, such blatant hypocrisy. add that on with poor discipline, sarcasm and the inability to command respect other than that which has been so easily rendered unto him. staying like this is really shitty. so much to demand, and yet so little to deliver. so many ugly facades. so unbecoming of one with such a title. and the sarcasm. the endless sarcasm on all fronts. they say organisational culture is a top down phenomenon. in this case, yes, that statement has been validated. the use of underlings for personal duty, too, is a self undermining act and i think that has been a cause for much displeasure.

i wouldnt know if this is related to other matters among other people. but lately it seems like the bonds that hold this raft together have been coming loose. what was once used to serve the greater interests of the whole have now been turned against each individual. and i could relate that partially to a lack of a better thing to do. to create something for everyone to see, to do something for entertainment.

alas, such dark days.

2011-09-03T23:32:00.000+08:00

getting every bit of what i deserve. karma bites after all.

what excuses do you make?

2011-09-02T00:14:00.003+08:00

it's the 2nd of september. a week and a day ago, i was forced to make one of the most difficult decisions i had ever made in my life. come to think of it, it didn't even feel like a decision. it didn't even feel like a choice. it was like being kicked into a corner or chucked under a bed and forced to take the only way out, because it was the only thing left to do at the moment.

a week and a day after that and we're still together, relatively happy and somewhat 'better'. i'm glad you're still here with me baby. the thought of losing you forever hurts so bad, it feels like something's reached into my chest and crushed my heart. i can literally feel constriction in my chest, just thinking about it. i'm grateful to you, for helping me understand where i went wrong and letting me see what i was like so i can better understand why you behaved the way you did and sometimes do. and i'm grateful to you for not ditching my ass and giving me a chance to try again.

i'm also thankful for your patience with me when i get insecure. i do get insecure at times.. (no, i'm not being vindictive nor am i getting back at you for anything) i'm worried you get sick of going to the same places, eating the same food, doing the same thing, being exhibitionists etc. and it does make me very worried at times.. i'm afraid our relationship grows stale and boring and you wouldn't enjoy yourself with me. and i do get worried about how i dress and my horrible fashion sense. i get insecure about how i am in other stuff too :( wondering whether i'm good enough to match up to what you once had. i know i'm physically inferior, but well.. i guess that's just something i have to accept.

but anyway, the bottom line is, i'm really happy to be with you, and despite the times that you made me upset or angry, well.. i've never really stopped loving you. even if i'm angry or upset, i'd still hold your hands and give you hugs because i wouldn't want you to feel left alone.

so yea... i guess that's about all i wanted to say.

i love you li yan.

Horndog

2011-08-29T22:51:00.002+08:00

For our sake, I really should exercise more self control. I tell people that stuff like that could be detrimental to a relationship, and yet I myself do such stuff. Don't know why I'm like that. I'm disappointed in myself.

But no, I shouldn't ever let history repeat itself. I would never want this to be the death of us. I would never want this to undo all I have been working for to keep this together, to keep you happy. The prospect of losing you over something like this, just hurts. .

2011-08-28T11:15:00.001+08:00

One day, you tell me not to leave you. And the next, you push me away.

why?

2011-08-24T22:35:00.003+08:00

i think i've put you through enough. i think i've burdened you enough, tormented you enough, hurt you enough, pressured you enough, broken you enough, destroyed you enough, demoralized you enough, confused you enough, made you feel inferior enough, made you feel inadequate enough.

enough.

i can never understand why i'm like this, why every relationship turns out this way. why the ending's always the same. i can never understand why i've never been able to maintain a happy relationship. why i'm such a fuck up. why it always seems like what i do ends up hurting someone. why i always seem to care so much and become an intolerable burden when i try to change things and make them better. maybe some things are better left untouched, some things are better left unchanged. i guess i'm not ever meant to be in a relationship. everything i try just ends up hurting someone. i dont know what's wrong with me. i cant seem to be able to make any girl truly happy. some part of me really wants to just give up. bury myself in the ground and lead a solitary life, without gaining the attention of anyone, without being noticed, without having to hurt anyone. i think i've put you through enough pain and tears. i think you've had enough. i cant bear to watch this go on. i cant bear to see you cry anymore. but i cant leave. i cant bear to. i dont want to. i dont want to come into your life and fuck it up and not do anything to make it up to you or to make things better. but yet i think you'd be a thousand times better off without me. i dont think you need anymore of this bullshit. i dont think it has benefitted you in any way. i'm sorry. i dont know what's wrong with me. i'm sorry. i cant be a better boyfriend. i'm sorry i cant seem to be able to leave you alone, unchanged and untouched, just the way you were before you met me. i guess you would've been so much happier if we never met.

i'm sorry.

Sad to say goodbye

2011-08-20T15:22:00.002+08:00

So yesterday, the Gun 2 detachment and I were shifting stores from one cage to another, making everything look neat and tidy and accounting for whatever we had. Outside the hanger, the specialist cadets were busy with their training. Manual jacking the gun and doing deployment drills. And Warrant Chua Ping was sitting on a field chair in front of the cadets, watching as I moved iron pickets around. I saw him and waved. And he gave a sad smile and waved, and looked down. I feel sorry for him. I know he's an emotional guy, but I guess he misses the platoon. And I don't blame him. A1 has been said to be the most lively platoon.

On a different note. .

I get angry at myself for getting angry at you. I was never this way. I always saw myself as a guy of calm and reason. Thinking logically to find an answer, using analysis to find a way out. And after the recent unhappy events between us, I feel disappointed at myself. I've never really been one to burst out like that, saying things out of anger or frustration. Saying things that I don't actually mean, but just saying them to vent whatever is in my chest. And sometimes, I look at you, and I forget everything. Everything that happened between us. And the past just dies, and the moment where I'm looking at you, is all that counts. Sigh.

Happy day

2011-08-15T16:27:00.002+08:00

So. . . In light of recent realization that my girlfriend actually reads my blog, I've decided to write more than just shitty feelings. I guess we just got back from our early 6th month celebration. It was funnn. And I'm actually quite glad we had the time to celebrate, despite my monday to friday imprisonment and her busy schooling schedule. But yea, if you're reading this. . .

<3 you bby

More of them, less of me

2011-08-14T01:33:00.002+08:00

So now, I wonder if I should ask what's wrong. But you wouldn't give me a reply. You would tell me it's nothing, and put on that annoying smiley to make it seem like everything's okay. When it's obviously not. I guess you think it'd burden me to tell me how you're feeling, guess you probably think that this is the way to make me happy. It's not working very well. And I guess you'd rather tell your friends everything than tell me anything. But I guess that's the way it'll be. You won't ever listen to me, I won't ever have your trust.

Oh this is terrible

2011-07-30T03:00:00.002+08:00

I guess you probably don't ever read this space. Probably good that you don't either. Sometimes I don't entirely know what to do. I don't know if I should be patient, I don't know if I should attempt to reassure you. Nothing I do ever seems to work. "Get used to it" doesn't sound like a feasible option either. I guess I will try, if you wish to insist that I am this way . . Well, I guess I can only take a deep breath, and repeat myself. I guess I deserve this don't I? After all that I have done, I deserve every single bit of this. I guess I'm expendable. It doesn't mean shit even if I have all life leeched out of me. Eventually I would have given my all, and collapsed to the floor, too dead to bother about what else happens anymore.

I don't see why you're pretending that everything's okay. Maybe you don't feel like giving me anymore trouble? Like WS said? Maybe you feel better if you keep your mouth shut. I don't know. Personally I'd rather you tell me. I could never stand not knowing. And thus far, not knowing has always been my greatest vulnerability.

But alas, there is not much I can say, nor do. Everything I say fails to work. Nothing I do bears fruition. I mean nothing, nothing at all.

These bones are only temporary

2011-07-07T22:18:00.002+08:00

Sometimes I don't know if what I'm doing is actually the right step forward. I don't know if coming clean and being honest would make anything better. Apparently it doesn't. I guess sometimes it's better to keep things down and quiet. But I fear that one day I wouldn't be able to take it anymore, and I'd make a rash decision. That I'd be consumed by negativity.

Open up

2011-06-06T19:23:00.002+08:00

I'm surprised by how exposed I feel, how susceptible I am to being hurt. A part of me knows that there's a chance things would go down south. But another part of me is longing to see, and make, this work out. I fear the end. Because I know how I would respond to it. I never took these things well. I guess I never will. And the thought of you leaving, hurts me more than anything else.

Off my chest

2011-05-22T22:43:00.002+08:00

This blog has been pretty dead for a while. Guess my life has been too routine. Well it's been about 3 months now. 3 days to 3 months actually. But I feel worried. I've lost the optimism I had when we first started off. I don't feel the strength I had at the start, and now I feel like nothing can be done to make you feel better. And I don't know how long more I can tolerate this. I hope I know when to stop. .

Out the frying pan, and into the fire

2010-10-09T23:19:00.007+08:00

2 months of a relatively easy army life, and I now realize that my foolishness has put me into a tight situation. Nothing can save me from my current predicament and I am doomed to suffer the next 3 months. What happens after that? I do not know. . But this feeling of dread is weighing me down. . I feel worse than I've ever felt since I enlisted. No escape from my plight. . . These are dark times indeed. .

Round and Round

2010-07-28T16:18:00.002+08:00

Bring us back around, our time is up. We remain forgotten under the oncoming waves of memories, covered by new found experiences, obscured by the presence of others. I find my path blocked by a fool. As a result of his incessant manipulation, I have been thwarted, halted dead in my tracks. If not for my current situation, and the uncertainty of the months to come, I would've gladly done all I could to gain the upperhand. And even if I failed, at least I tried. But no, all evidence points to my position as no higher than everyone else. I am but hay, in a haystack. And thus far, I guess progress would mean nothing. . Nothing at all. .

Leaving

2010-07-26T01:19:00.002+08:00

I'm getting ready to go, but not like this. Not when I know your eyes burn when they see my name. Not when you're against me. Not when you hold this hatred in your heart. I wouldn't like to discover, after my absence, that my efforts would be in vain

Stay

2010-07-17T01:32:00.002+08:00

This was not what I had expected it to be. Frankly speaking, I did not want anything more than to find some alternative place to spend time with my friends. Talk, chill, have a drink. And that was all I was looking forward to for the night. Even if it was just for a little bit of show, for friendship, I would've appreciated it more than anything else.

And looking at you being insecure, worried me more above all else. I knew I couldn't do anything. And I felt helpless. I wished there was something I could do to make you feel better. But no, blame it on my lack of creativity, there was nothing I could try

Written in words

2010-06-29T02:21:00.002+08:00

I have things to say. I have pictures to paint, songs to sing, poetry to write, music to weave. About so many matters on hand. Why not slice up a piece of the past, add a dash of the present, and spread the icing of the future on top and serve it up hot. There are indeed so many matters at hand. . Constant reminders of what I did, current news about what is going on, future prospects. . I guess my head is fraught with constant analysis, anticipation, scenarios that will probably never happen. Somehow, I do seem to expect certain things coming, but they rarely unfold in the manner which I thought they would. And it is commonly in this predicament, that I write. . And express my thoughts to those who would listen. .

Your indifference

2010-06-22T00:21:00.003+08:00

With all that's said and done, what changed? Mere days after my revelation of the truth, you turned your back on me again. If I had known your indifference would've returned, if I had known that nothing would've changed between us, I would have kept my lips sealed. I would've let the truth die in me. And you would, inevitably, continue to wander aimlessly, searching for an answer. But I still question myself, whether what I did was 'right'. I doubt it can be denied that I had good intentions. From the 'personal gain' perspective though,

I had won nothing.

And it makes me wonder if ever a true friendship would blossom from the dead remains of our past. It really makes me wonder if things would be as you said you wanted them to be. Well, from the ways things turned out, maybe not. .

On the other hand, letting such an opportunity slip, has really burdened me. I shouldn't have delayed my decision. . That extra couple of days that took me to decide has cost me dearly. Now that I am left with nothing, I fear for the days ahead. The days of mindless service and following of orders. Alas, I have nothing to look forward to when the week is at its end. Two years of nothingness. . I am expecting cynicism, pessimism and mundane, grey memories.

Sigh. I feel deeply troubled

Wait not

2010-06-19T02:40:00.002+08:00

Wasted. . An opportunity to gain greater ground. Wasted. . . And who is to blame? No one, no one but myself. Time waits for no man. . And I should've taken the opportunity while I could. I hope this lesson will serve me well in the future. .

Unparalleled might

2010-05-29T02:11:00.002+08:00

I am glad I have been able to do what I thus far have been unable to. But it hasn't been without a price to pay.

On a side note

Such actions resurrect corpses better left to rest. I could feel my intestines bunching up, the very moment that hand fell.

How not?

2010-05-19T02:09:00.001+08:00

It's simple. If we aren't having a good time, we pull out. Why ever should we be burdened by that which should rightfully gain us some release?

For lack of better alternatives

2010-05-09T02:33:00.002+08:00

Eventually, in the light of the setting sun, our faces were lit with hues yet unseen. With fresh insight, and newer perspectives, alas our instincts were right. Forsaken by misunderstanding, words never uttered. I guess it is with regrettable misfortune that we had to meet such a fate.

Implications

2010-05-04T03:41:00.002+08:00

You said this was happening, but in what part of this is the blame mine? You mentioned before, that we shouldn't let the tides of time scatter us out at sea. And what else could I do, when all that has been left undone has finally caught up with me? Maybe if you had tried, perchance, I would've had a clock's worth to spare.

And this has always been my alternate world. Weaving expressions into textiles, drawing images with sounds. I do not need this excessive dramatization, I do not need these additional skits. More importantly, I do not need to be put into a potentially difficult situation, least of all by those around me. Does this glass seriously need to be constantly stirred? Are the rigors of life too uninteresting? With what you did, I shudder to think what would be next. This never had to be a chore for me, never in this existence would I want this to be another burden to bear on my shoulders.

We'll save the fireworks for some other time

Wrong move

2010-04-23T00:47:00.002+08:00

Quaint, to think that within such a short period of time, the position in which we're in can congeal as quickly as blood left on the tile. While all this was just N.S.A, I do admit, I shot myself in the foot. Like toy soldiers battling on a set, fighting for the princess in the highest tower, I have been forcefully retrieved, and placed on the shelf, either to serve as a backup plan, or to never see combat again.

Fearless

2010-04-20T23:40:00.002+08:00

And now, what art we to do? I won't deny I joined for glory, I admit I placed my name down for my own benefits. But I would now, regrettably say, I am not enjoying much of this. For once in a very long time, I am not inspired to work and to do better. Some might fault me at being a sloth for too long, but I doubt that would be the cause of my inaction. In reply was completed shortly after I was given the word to do so; I was done within a couple of hours. . I have yet to complete too many grasshoppers, but well, I will eventually. What troubles me more, is my inability to weave these strings like I used to. I guess I might be short on inspiration. . Or maybe other events in my life have caught on to me.

Such short periods of time spent together, should never be spent in agony, or in constant battle with oneself, sorting out one's thoughts. Day to day, I spend my time analyzing, considering, predicting, forecasting, guessing, solving. And at the end of the day, I learn something.

I betray myself, with base treachery, time and time again

Appalling

2010-04-11T01:06:00.002+08:00

How's about you take a rock, and carve it with your fingers. I know, the mass held in your hand wouldn't meld. I know it wouldn't take the form in which you want it to.

I know, it wouldn't submit to your command.

And then we'd appreciate the arduous task it is, to shape that which is misshapen. The time spent contemplating what you would desire to have, pales in comparison to the actual task of using your hands and moulding your mental visions.

Alas, if shaping waves of disturbance in the air was any easier, I would have done it by now.

The songs of the golden one

2010-03-30T04:37:00.002+08:00

The muses sang to us, with music more eloquent than words, with voices more crisp than the sharpest bells. They sang long-persevering truths, notions that had been left cast aside. They knew about our struggle, our never ending travail for redemption, and release. This bondage has kept us for too long.

Time and time again

2010-03-29T02:04:00.002+08:00

They constantly speak of circles. Cycles that continue endlessly. They sat on the crimson seats, watching the opus play out. Several months of love, ended by an unfortunate clash of events, added with a heavy shade of foolishness. Alas, who would've thought that that would've been the end of it all? Hadn't the love-lost romantic suffered enough? Had he not been tormented beyond measure?

NO!

This was far from the end. No one ever said that this would mean the end of emotions. Everything that had been said before, broke apart like ashes blown against the rough bark of trees. Such deception. . . Such deception. . . Our lives aren't meant to be lived the way we want them to be. We fell prey to empty words and beautiful eyes. Those eyes, with pupils like galaxies. And our weaknesses lie not in the thickness of these walls, but the fragile hearts that reside within them

Head clasped in between hands

2010-03-27T02:59:00.002+08:00

And he said he couldn't forgive himself for what he did. Several months past the events of 2009, he told me that the memories of his actions still haunted him in his sleep, tormenting him endlessly. From him, I learnt the weight of one's actions. And I told him, "forgiveness is from within, forgive yourself, if you want to be forgiven." But truth be told, I, too, was unsure whether he would ever earn release. From an external point of view, I would say he half deserved it, but the more sympathetic part of me would say he just got carried away. Drawn in by temptation, it would take not much a greater man to fall prey to his own desires. Furthermore, I believe he never intended to hurt his dearly beloved. And he never expected her words to be little more than lies.

Sad to say, such terrible events aren't the result of a singular factor. Towers built of the hardest stone don't collapse with a single push.

Steady aim

2010-03-25T03:55:00.002+08:00

We put our eyes, onto that which we saw out in the distance. So vivid, so clear. . And yet, what we have seen, seems to be nothing more than a mirage. The light, prospects of an alternate future, playing tricks on our eyes. Crawling on our knees in the deserts of time, with our crowns bearing down on our heads. Where else can we go, and what else is there left to do? Oh, aren't we cursed to carry this burden on our backs. Endlessly wandering, searching for that which would never arrive. . . . Alas, how ill-fated our journey has been. . .

What makes you a man?

2010-03-01T00:45:00.002+08:00

So, why doth my friendliness receive nought but non-response? I wonder whether you have the courage to face me, after what you did and after how it ended. I don't, for a moment, see why you cannot behave like an adult.

Can you hear them whispering?

2010-02-22T00:55:00.002+08:00

Presented with this situation, he did what he could do to aid a friend. Upon further unravelling, he began to notice inaccuracies, lies crafted into links of a chain, dragging us, holding us down. If they weren't lies, they were nought but hearsay, words whispered from the less reputable, so to speak. And he advised his associate, to heed not words carried in the wind. He gave, with fair judgement and experience from days past, reasons to believe that what was said had little chance of holding true. And the response, was ill received. Rude and narrow minded, his associate ended his response with "This kind of thing is subjective, so enough said". And he, with a flame burning in the his chest, wondered to himself how his associate could be naive to simply take hearsay in comparison to factual information. He wondered if his choice to redirect someone close to being mislead was the right move. But no, he does not believe so much in betrayal of his friends. And yet, he does not seem pleased by his associate's behaviour. Alas, how could one behave that way, when one is seeking help from others?

Sea of flames. .

2010-02-15T01:50:00.003+08:00

We stood, watching and waiting. Before the great expanse before us. Fury, the likes of which I had never seen before. Father Chaos raged before us, serpent-tongued flames dancing and wreaking havoc the likes of which we had never seen. And us, glorified, had to stand against what we thought was 'noble' and 'honorable'. . Time took its toll on us, driving us to the brink of insanity. And we too, felt the splurges of violence, the urge to batter and wrench, rip and obliviate.

Remove from us, what we used to be.

Mid-week

2010-02-10T01:42:00.002+08:00

Let us, for one moment, deceive ourselves that everything is going to plan. . Let's just say, nothing's going wrong and what I thought would be, will materialise and take shape. . Let's imagine for a minute, that these clouds and shapeless masses known only to exist in my imagination, take form and start being what I thought it would be. .

What would happen then?

Sad to say, I left those dreams behind and decided to move on against my will. . Sad to say, some dreams were never meant to be. . . Sad to say, things just don't go the right way. . . And what else can I do, but to acknowledge that we are all stepping out from one island, onto the many bridges that would lead us to the next. No one can say for sure that our bridges won't dock at the same point ever again. . No one can say for sure that the waters we cross won't consume us all. .

The word 'last' has been resounding in my head, over and over again. . Time has passed and the sands of time have shifted us from one plane to another. . The hourglass has almost emptied its bulb and there are still matters left unsettled. .

Oh, such incommunicable weight I carry

Oye oye!

2010-02-09T01:36:00.002+08:00

7 days. . And we art walking out of the brightest days of our life. . Our time has come, and we are moving onwards. . . What lies ahead of us? I cannot say. . .

But I know, that there was still alot more left for us to do. . . Alot left undone. . .

Alas, I can't turn back time

Till then, friend.

2010-02-04T02:31:00.003+08:00

The part where we all think it's alright, that's when we say: It's over it's over.

A new venture into unchartered territory. With one unaccomplished at pathfinding. Oh I hope I'd have what it takes to keep us going.

Glorious Headshots

2010-01-30T03:13:00.002+08:00

Let's leave intentions aside and think not about what lies beyond our grasp. The paths that we take, willingly or unwillingly, are ours to walk. And we walk alone.

And on occasion, we know we've been left stowed away on a shelf. And when we're taken down, we feign friendship, and allegiance. We paint false pictures of what reassures others, and with an air of satisfaction, we are returned to our shelves, left to be buried beneath the continuum we know as change.

And so, we are left without any hand in what we become in the eyes of the one to behold us. We stand in a circle, as puppets would on a stage, and with the puppet master staring us down, writing a different chapter on each page.

And as a casual observer, he would probably proclaim the binding rule of "Speak when spoken to" to be the principle from which this relationship is has grown. In dismay, this is but the horrid truth that one would have to face.

Alas. . .

2010-01-27T02:01:00.002+08:00

Alas, sometimes things don't go the way you prefer them to. .

Alas, sometimes being yourself gets you into the wrong chapter of someone else's book

Alas, sometimes you can only watch from afar, and ponder what it would be like to be standing face to face in a quiet place

Alas, some mistakes, though paid for with the heaviest price, still come back to cloud our vision, and distract us from doing what would have been more apt. .

Alas, sometimes we just can't turn back time. .

Alas, in an attempt to incite some response, we do silly things that only turn around and weigh us down. .

Alas, such fools we can be.

Balance these scales. . .

2010-01-26T01:47:00.002+08:00

For most instances, I would say there''s only so much we can give. . Only so much that we have of ourselves, to dissipate from our hearts, and from our souls. . And on occasion, we take the essence of others, to fuel these tired hearts and grey smiles.

But what happens, when you've given a large part of yourself and you gain little in return? What happens when you've drained all your colours into those you care for, and you realize. . All you see are dark shadows, blank spaces where faces used to be. . And you don't hear anything, but the endless dial tone coming from your phone. .

"Give and take," they said. . But what more can I ask for? What more do I deserve. .

But don't we all know, how unbearable it would be to simply, let go of these ropes. . And watch the small sailboat float away into the distance. . Watch the Sun paint it red with its dying light. . . And watch that which has meant so much to you, slowly shrink and fade away. .

Well, you always asked me if you could drive my car. .

Now, I'm guessing you should.

Gradually. .

2010-01-22T01:45:00.002+08:00

Marvelous brown eyes, they said. . And without a doubt, they were right. . We crested the hills in search of those flawless gems, and we were far from obtaining what we had set out to find. Still, the rays of the red suns guided us, leaving us trails of reflections. . Those flashing glints of gold could never be missed. .

And yet, no one told us, if those precious stones ever wanted to be found. .

North bound

2010-01-19T02:23:00.002+08:00

Is this plaguing your brain?

Now breathe in wide, I'll forgive you later
Come on it's time,

Just stand aside.

Cut off these ties, till this is why.
We were holding to one night.
Breathe in without love,
Hear me form these lines:
"Falling in love, I have been reading lies"

Reaching out

2010-01-16T23:52:00.003+08:00

Sometimes we arrive a little too late. . . Not to discover that he/she who has loved us since forever has gone, but rather, to discover that someone you might date has been right next to you for the past few years. Now the thing is, you wouldn't know it, and that person wouldn't know it. But when you do know it, it comes a little too late.

And strange possibilities start to play in your head. Strange questions of "Why now?" or "Why you?" start to repeat themselves, over and over and . . Over again. . . Keeping you up late into the night, having you interrogate yourself, having you foresee the possibilities, having you imagine pictures in your head; polaroids of yourself with your non-existent-lover.

But these pretty pictures, though vivid and colourful, still save you from the agony of living a lie. Why are there blank spaces where faces used to be? Why are some places blur and sketchy, like concepts poorly drawn out, like blueprints of a house yet to be built.

And with that, the images start to fade. The possibilities start to liken themselves to clouds and shadowy masses. And as the light of the setting sun starts to fade, you ask yourself.

Why now. . . ?

They came from the pyre

2010-01-14T00:02:00.002+08:00

I swear I could just lose myself in those eyes. .

And I swear I'm lost. . For direction and for words. The choice between losing a friend, and ramping things up a notch. The uncertainty that comes with the decision. . The future prospects. . .

I see pictures of myself, images of a future. . But where do we stand in these flickers of emotion? Where do our hearts reside?

Paradise Falls. . .

2010-01-07T03:25:00.002+08:00

That night I left the safety of the citadel and headed into the grounds. As if by instinct, my feet took me to a spot marked by only a single red ruby surrounded by seven black opals. With my fingers I dug. . . And I dug. . .

And mother Earth, in all her sympathy and pity, yielded an aged chest.

The lock did nothing to hold me back from viewing the contents of the chest. And in the middle of the sparse, empty field, clouded by mist, I, wrapped tightly in my cloak, began to sink myself into the scores of music forever faded. .

Each piece played moving pictures in my head, images of the halcyon days of my youth long dead. Days of Elysian smiles and gleaming, jewel-like eyes.

It would be incredulous for me to lie about what I was feeling: Nostalgia, pure and raw. But not that which brings back warmth to the heart, rather that which brings reminiscence of a heavy burden on my shoulders.

Alas, those days, albeit happy, were some of the darkest days of my existence.

Buddho. . .

2010-01-05T00:17:00.002+08:00

A few days back, I attended a sermon, held by a man of a higher order. We sat in the Main Shrine, with everyone facing the row in which these men sat. He asked:

"Who here has a new year's resolution?"

And there was silence.

"Who here has made a new year's resolution before?"

And there was silence.

But he went on to speak of thoughts. . . . He asked us to close our eyes and analyze our thoughts. What do our minds withhold? Are our minds treacherous seas of negative thoughts? Or are they pristine beaches with azure waters? And he enlightened us with his esoteric knowledge of the mind. He told us that our thoughts stay with us to the grave; be it our negative thoughts or our positive thoughts. And he told us that our minds play thoughts in random. Sometimes playing good thoughts, sometimes playing bad thoughts. Adding more positive thoughts would increase the probability of positive thoughts playing, while adding more negative thoughts would increase the probability of negative thoughts playing.

And I looked into my mind, and noticed. . .

It was a sea of flames. . .

And he spoke of mindfulness. . Being aware. Mindfulness of our actions, mindfulness of our words. And I, too, began to think about the implications of my actions throughout the year of 2009; the decisions made, the things said. . .

Well. . . To 2010, not a very good year. I have little to look forward to. . . A grim year, with the snarling face of impending doom facing me.

Sigh. Yet another charge into the deep.

Story of the Year

2010-01-03T02:21:00.002+08:00

Let me tell you about the 19th year since 1990. I am now almost two decades old, and 2009, like several other years, saw myself and those around me locked in the continuing struggle to achieve. To carve a brighter future for ourselves, to build up this home from the ground.

January and February saw us through the last trial of our second year in this course. And then came the hopes brought to us by the statues of angels. The second month heralded the opportunity to traverse into new lands, widen our perspectives with different people, races, cultures and mindsets. Sad to say, our much anticipated trip never happened and we were directed elsewhere, to a place not so foreign. But all was not in folly; new friends were found and much was shared. We burst into the light, leaving our shells behind, ready to prove ourselves to the silent sentinels.

March brought us into a fresh new citadel, with fresh new citizens. A casual observer would say we were treated with about the same amount of honour and dignity as a child, unlearned and inexperienced. That would only prove to be another obstruction in our odyssey. Such was the look in their eyes, I would never forget the importance of proving oneself.

The middle of the year saw us digging, excavating, questioning and analysing. We had answers, questions to answers and answers to questions. We observed the political workings of the empire's sovereign rulers and tasted the steel of its Emperor. And then, a shift to hostile territories. Our souls were taken from our physical forms and cast into that of a variety of creatures; goblins, gargoyles, hooded nightmares, serpents with forked tongues and strange incarnations of sleeping giants. Endless repetition was brought upon us, and we were locked in a bitter fight to satisfy the empire. The end of the middle month saw the death of a legend, and the fall of a leader. A broken heart and a distraught mind. Several wrong mistakes and a revelation of identity. Painful lessons learnt, of decadence and fidelity. Alas, we were not meant to be.

September. Exhausted and drained, several late nights and arduous work had left a few of us defeated and unwilling to put out our best. To burn our flames as bright as before. Disagreements and infighting left us separated and unwilling. A new leader was brought forth and I was laid to rest. .

A new sun rising the East guided the way for new plans and fresh ideas. Despite this, the march was still slow, dreaded and unwilling. October left us fleeing for our lives. . . Taking what we had left, and escaping. . .

November and December witnessed us being reunited with friends of old. Celebrations and festivities, vodka and cranberry, grey geese and Bacardi. Fine food, fine conversation and happy times, enough to wash away the torment weighing down on our backs, the 7 months of gruelling work.

And now, January, 2010. I question this long road I have walked. I question my morality. Eight years. It has been eight years. My consciousness has been tugging on my sleeves, my mind foresees an endless spiral. Not far from what I've seen before, not what I intend to see anymore.

I have walked this road too long. . .

Frenzy. . .

2009-12-10T02:04:00.001+08:00

Whirlwind, sweeping these thoughts away. .

The key to brootality isn't always in strength

Heartbreaker

2009-12-06T22:47:00.002+08:00

Boy, now that ain't right. . .

It's Sunday, an hour before Monday, the day of Service Quality Management. . . And I am in no mood to delve into the world of Service. . . I can only think of meeting up with my best friend Johnnie Walker and having a whale of a time. .

On a note laced with an atmosphere of trepidation. . .

Spiralling down this infinite rotunda. . .
This infinite tower of steps. . .
Spiralling into the darkness. . .
Where we lose our hats. . .
These steps present no exits. . .
And the only way out,
is the only way up. . .

But you and I both know,
Descending into decadence,
Is always harder. . .
Than climbing the steps of rightousness

In a state of whirling confusion. ..

2009-11-16T02:04:00.002+08:00

And at times, I would say you're right here, right next to me. . . And at others, just across the horizon. . . Far beyond reach. . . And I wonder, if I should go closer. . . Or if I should stay right where I am. . .

And with the conditions set in my head, I began fanning my flame, to build my smoke. . . But without a clear mind, my smoke took no form. . .

And I believe, you, too, do not know which way to go. . .

To advance, or to retreat. . .

Jetpack. . .

2009-11-14T00:20:00.001+08:00

We ran down the debris strewn street, and with our rocketpacks attached to our backs, blasted off into the skies . . . Scouring the clouds in search of a new home. . . To rid ourselves of the memories of that crumbling city. . . We flew. . .

Shackles

2009-11-04T02:25:00.002+08:00

Ball and chain, ball and chain,
With our ankles in pain. . .
We art shackled to the ground,
with these roots wound round. . .
Left under the shelter of the canopy,
Where the light never shines free. . .

Oh, willow tree,
Woe be me. . .
How long more,
Will I reside in thy hall?
This peregrination is such a bore,
What else would I desire for?

Shots

2009-10-26T00:25:00.000+08:00

How quaint. . .

Lyme Disease. . .

2009-10-21T23:39:00.002+08:00

Like fishes in a busy sea. . . We swam. . . The whale directed us to our ocean, and we set off. . . On our journey. . . We battled the currents. . . We fought the tide. . . We left the maelstrom and found places to hide. . . But we had to face Father Chaos's wrath. . . And we swam. . . And swam. . . Days turned to weeks. . . Weeks turned to months. . . And the whale, had never kept its word. . .

We were nowhere. . . Not to the promise of crystal clear waters and rich green algae fields. . . But to the murky depths covered in coral long deceased. . .

And we were tired. . . I looked back at the crowd. . . And their scales were grey. . . Their fins were frayed and their eyes were glazed. . . A few more weeks towards the horizon, and our journey had come to a close. . . I looked towards my companions, and I saw not my school of fish. . . But fossils and empty shells. . . And I too noticed, that I lay still. . . At the bottom of the sea. . .
I looked at the blank, staring eyes of my companions. . . And it dawned on me. . .

We had joined the coral that covered the expanse beneath us. . .

Experience. . .

2009-10-21T02:44:00.002+08:00

The other day, I went for an interview. . . She invited me to take a seat and after I did, she smiled at me benignly. . .

"How would you like to trade your soul?"

It wasn't that much to think about. . .

"What do you have to offer?"

Her smile grew wider,

"Nothing."

And I nodded my head in consent, allowing her to lead me into the next room. . . It wasn't much bigger than a store room, yet it gave me a feel of never ending expanse . . . With corners of the walls similar to horizons. . . But then again, it wasn't much bigger than a store room. . . The walls were covered in a strange wallpaper. . . Hues of red, vibrant colours. . . And yet everything seemed so dull, and claustrophobic. . .

"How fortuitous", I thought to myself. . .

I sat on a chair in the middle of the room and I spoke to the walls. . . The walls had little to say, yet I gave my utmost care and concern. . . I shared my opinions and spoke words of advice. . . And I spent my time within these walls, sacrificing all else. . .

A fortnight passed and the same interviewer stepped into the room. . .

"Alright, your work has been done. We have found a replacement for thy post. We thank you for your soul. . . "

I smiled back and left the room. . . Exhausted from my work. . . I went home and looked at myself in the mirror. . .

I had lost my colour. . . My skin took a pallid shade of grey. . . My clothes were black and white. . . My lips were dull and flat. . . And my eyes, were as hollow as wells. . .

I had left myself in that room. . . With its red walls, and endless horizons. . .

A little more literal. . .

2009-10-18T01:33:00.002+08:00

Frankly speaking, I haven't felt like I've enjoyed my holidays enough. . . Just a couple o weeks of actual worry-free enjoyment. . . Most of my time has been spent at home. . . Partially because I get a bit worried when I go out in the day. . . And the night life had me down for a while. . . It's saturday night. . . I don't feel like sleeping. . . But I really have nothing left to do. . .

Hypnotic. . .

2009-10-17T02:16:00.002+08:00

Like apparitions, they wander around us. . . In some sentiments, these wraiths seek to accompany us. . . Make us laugh, and smile :D . . . Bring us 'warmth' to our lives. . . Give us something to pass the time, give us a little more company. . . Put a bit more sparkle into our eyes. . .

And then we notice, we're simply being leeched. . . Drained of our strength. . . We give our warmth, and our 'love', feeding these ethereal beings in attempts to make them whole. . . Tangible, some would call it. . . And in no time, we find that we have given ourselves away. . . And we in turn,

Have turned to ghosts. . . Only to scour these forsaken plains. . . Searching for our souls. . .

But he once said, "Not all who wander are lost."

Something about us. . .

2009-10-15T00:49:00.001+08:00

It might not be, the right time. . .

I might not be, the right one. . .

But there's something about us I want to say. . .

Cause there's something between us anyway. . .

I might not be, the right one. . .

It might not be, the right time. . .

But there's something about us, I've got to do. . .

Some kind of secret I will share with you. . .

I need you more than anything in my life

I want you more than anything in my life

I'll miss you more than anyone in my life

I love you more than anyone in my life

Lollipop

2009-10-14T21:03:00.001+08:00

Every so often, a scene crosses my mind. . . A sudden rewinding of the tapes. . . And it tears me. . . And it rips me. . . Over and over again. . .

Rocky Road. . .

2009-10-14T00:47:00.002+08:00

I've been having these strange dreams lately. . . Like is any of this for real, or not? I dreamt that my toothpaste tube was replaced with a new one. I dreamt that I got into a car accident with a Firebird (not a car you'd find in Singapore, and probably not in the US anymore) that was driving in the wrong direction. . . I dreamt about so many daily affairs, like drinking water, taking medicine, playing guitar, going out, that now I feel like I can't differentiate between the dreams and reality residing in my memories. . .

Returning. . .

2009-10-01T01:22:00.002+08:00

Let's hear it for New York! New York! New York!

Well. . . It has been quite a while since I paid attention to this matter. . . And I still think it weighs down on my shoulders like a long haired girl riding atop of me. . .

I don't ever wish to go back there. . .

Questions and foresight. . .

2009-09-29T00:15:00.002+08:00

My teacher, Mr Collin, once said to me, "So you've put all of that behind you now right?" And I said, "Yea I guess so, but when I turn around and look back, it's still there." And he laughed. . . I have put all of that behind me. . . There is no doubt about that. . . I look back into the past 2-3 months and I am quite confident that there are key milestones that I can safely chart on a graph. . . But till now, going to places, seeing things, reflecting on the present. . . They all still bring back images that play in my head endlessly. . . These reels of tape collected in my head make me feel old. . . I feel like an aged 90 year old, with my skin wrinkled. . . With my face covered in blemishes. . . With my cheeks drooping. . . And with my eyes, gazing blankly. . . Tired. . . And exhausted. . .

Someone I know once said, "Alot of you young people like to think about the end product. But you don't think about how you're going to get there." We dream, we fantasise, we imagine ourselves in pants larger than our own. . . But how often do we think about the bitter struggle that would bring us there. . . Thoughts of fame and fortune are so easy to dream about. . . But dreaming about the painful process of getting there, just doesn't seem to occur so easily. . . And with that, dreams fail to turn into reality. . . And they forever remain etched in the mind as dreams . . . Or left to be forgotten, and like the sands of time, are blown into forgotten spaces. . .

All too often, we live off borrowed wisdom. . .

And I think it sucks being a carbon copy. . .

Taking into consideration. . .

2009-09-27T13:06:00.002+08:00

It's the wrong, time, for somebody new. . . It's a small, crime, and I've got no excuse. . . Is that alright with you? Give my gun away when it's loaded. . . Is that alright with you? If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?

Like a porcupine. . . Covered in spines. . . You're free to criticize and to provoke. . . But when provoked, you stick your spines out and poke your provoker in the eye. . .

Urhh. . .

2009-09-27T00:53:00.004+08:00

Well. . . I live in a WELL, where tears start to WELL. . . And where I DWELL, riding the SWELL. . .

Two radio sets sat in a crowded room full of radio sets. . . Some transmitted, some received. . . Some did both, while others deceived. . . I transmitted my eyes on my radio set, and I heard the echoes from a few other radio sets. . . A butterfly transmitted her wings through her set, and I caught them through mine. . . Incidentally, she caught my eyes, and I caught her wings. . . We tuned our radios to Channel 0231 and spoke to each other on that closed line. . . We spoke for a while, sharing nothing but our corneas. . . And before long, others had tuned in to Channel 0231. . . Several strange faces began transmitting across the channels. . . And my butterfly, was obscured by shadows. . . I stood by and watched, for several minutes, waiting for my butterfly to speak to me again. . . But nay, she took wing, and left me behind. . .

Bye bye, butterfly. . .

A strange twisting of fate, leading me to this strange acquaintance. . . A startlingly familiar name, akin to that of someone I used to know. . . And a face, eloquent with familiarity. . . That face, I can't seem to comprehend. . . I see so many people in one person. . . I see D, J, HS, HM, C and some I can't even name. . . It frightens me to think that we are related in such a strange way. . . And yet. . . I know that we are not made for each other. . . Life is a trade-off. . . What I stand to gain is offset by what I stand to lose. . . And yet I feel my inquisitive mind seeking a profound attraction to this person. . . A bizarre collection of faces. . . It startles me. . .

Finding these veins. . .

2009-09-23T01:11:00.002+08:00

I haven't felt like this in a while. . . It feels like one of those occasions where you stand in contemplation. . . Standing on an island, just a small patch of land about the size of your bedroom. . . And stare out into azure blue waters. . . An expanse so wide, that your island feels. . . Like a palm tree in a desert. . . This tree stands, as a symbol of life. . . As a standard for all creatures in search of survival to rally around. . . This tree stands out on the horizon, sitting on a dune. . .

And under this palm tree I sit, contemplating. . . Contemplating that scene at the bazaar. . . With crowds of people flowing through alleys. . . And with a kaleidoscope of colours filling my eyes. . . The smooth cloths of the city's inhabitants draped over their bodies. . . And I was but one in a constellation of colours. . . In such a blur of motion and endless renewal, how does one remain planted firmly to the ground? How does one remain, standing in a moving crowd. . .

How does one resist being swept away?

And I stood in that flurry of movement, and contemplated. . . I watched the lone fisherwoman. . . She was much like a Siren, standing in the middle of the lake, picking her fish as they came towards her in droves. . .

And I swam in that frenzied rush, and contemplated. . . How does one illuminate oneself in the darkness? How does one forge an iron will? How does one deal a crushing blow?

And how does one contemplate such things?

Conditions

2009-09-22T19:39:00.001+08:00

WE'VE FALLEN SHORT, WE'VE FALLEN SHORT

WE WON'T SURVIVE

I am quite speechless and was quite unaware of what the capabilities of a weak heart are

Rain clouds. . .

2009-09-15T00:55:00.003+08:00

Well, this next one's gonna be in metaphors. . . In 3 paragraphs. . .

With the lights flashing and smoke misting our eyes, bodies moving to the thumping beats, I watched this tide of men and women pulsating and shivering in the ambience of loud music and R&B. . . Well this one ain't a metaphor. . But screw that, I can't find a better way to word it. . .

We walked in a forgotten land, feeling a great sense of euphoria and ecstacy despite being pretty lost. . . None of us knew the grand plan. . . We had a map, and a latern. . . But the drawings on the map were pretty sketchy, much like a map drawn with a crayon. . . And our lantern did little to dispel the darkness or penetrate the mist. . . And we laughed, and talked and casually strolled through the shadows, fearing nothing but the lack of better times. . . And on we walked, with these shackles wrapped round our wrists and ankles. . . These chains trailing behind us, its sinister clinking muted by our shouts of laughter. . . And these rags we call clothes, hanging off our skeletal frames. . . And these bones covered by remnants of flesh and skin. . . And these skulls, with empty sockets that stare blankly. . . And these paper white jaws and teeth, chatter on endlessly, laughing and cackling. . .

They all seemed in a mad disarray, engaging in a spree of hostile conflict and disagreements. . . Throwing aside everything they had built, and just beating at each other with sticks and stones. . . What used to be a peaceful agreement and co-operation turns into a silent stalemate, with each side decimating the other, or simply leaving the battleground, never returning to conclude the fight. . . And while we are all in this state of turmoil, I ask that you, reader, consider what you're doing if you ever engage in future joint ventures. . . Or if you are currently participating in one now, do make attempts to sort business out in a professional way. . . Dissolving your partner might not be the best solution. . . Unfortunately, when profits and loss come into play, everything else goes out of the way. . .

Avenger. . .

2009-08-24T15:08:00.002+08:00

The enemy may shatter our bodies, but they cannot break our spirit. . .

Even now they advance on our home world, to seize by force what they cannot claim by right. . . They cannot imagine what awaits them. . .

WE WILL SMITE THE INVADERS FROM OUR SKIES. . .

Though they sweep over our lands like the sands of winter; Never again will we bow before them; Never again endure their oppression; Never again endure their tyranny. . . We will strike without warning and without mercy; fighting as one hand, one heart, one soul. . . We will shatter their dreams and haunt their nightmares. . . .Drenching our ancestors' graves with their blood. . .

We will unleash such terrible vengeance, that generations yet unborn will cry out in anguish. . . And as our last breath tears at their lungs, they will know. ..

That this much, belongs to us. . .

This is him speaking to me through, you. . .

2009-08-19T00:49:00.002+08:00

Such subliminal messages, rising from the shadows to haunt me. . . To torment me. . . I wish I could bury these recollections in a chest at the bottom of the ocean. . . So I'll just talk abit about what happened these few weeks. . .

Number 1:
He was waiting at the bus stop and was meeting his friend. . . She was with her friends and she seemed to ignore him completely. . . Not wanting to sit with him on the bus and even talk to him or acknowledge him . . . Poor bloke. . .

Number 2:
He was with his friends, preparing for a jamming session at some place. . . The jamming room was upstairs while several kids sat downstairs. . . If I recall correctly, there were two groups of people. . . And his friend was sitting there with the other group, smoking and chatting. . . And as usual, ignoring him. . . So for a few minutes the two groups sat apart from each other and did their own things. . . Until it was time to jam. . . He gathered his items and took one last glance at his friend. . . The other group was leaving. . . And his friend left her file behind. . . It was a red folder file. . . The sort with several transparent pockets inside. . . He picked it up and looked inside. . . And they contained some papers of the both of them. . . Their outings, the happier moments like the trip to the zoo etc etc. . . He walked up to her, with his arm outstretched and said,

"Hey you left your file."

And she said,

"Oh, you can keep it."

And he said,

"You don't want your file?"

And she said in an irritated tone,

"I don't want it."

And she turned her back on him. . .