Unpredictable Garbage

Bright Morning Light

2014-02-10T13:23:00.000+08:00

Most humans only want is simple,
it's Happiness.

Do not lie to ourselves,
This isn't an easy life, nor will it ever be.
We say we love ourselves,
But often it's a lie said so it's just left be.
We need to remind ourselves.

You're a person too,
With your own wants, dreams and desires.
You've all the right too,
To live a life, to love in life.
A life that's all up to you, beliefs and all.
Where you can finally stand tall.

You're not one lesser of another,
Just because we are not stronger,
Not all are born to play part an actor,
Who are we not to act on our own anger,
When our own character is a stranger.

There's a simpler want,
Though for some it haunts.

We've all a shadow that creeps,
Most evident before we sleep.
One that refuses us the comfort of rest,
One that targets that emptiness in our chest.
One that most forget is also another test.

The shadow, your demons; all just names,
For the fear of what lay still unknown.
The fear of more bridges set in flames,
For the temporary alleviation of alone.

See that love is something to truly miss,
It's beauty saved still for who believe,
It's pain saved still for simple lost bliss,
Cursed are those who can only reminiscence.

Lucky are those who lay warm at night,
Beside them a being to share in comfort,
Not fearing the chance of what may hurt.
For there's someone to hold you so close.

Finally safe within their almighty warmth,
Toes, Hands intertwined beneath the throws.
Finally feel our beating hearts as we close.
And it's in this moment of time we froze.

It's simply the want to understand.

Experience what it is firsthand.

Have the strength to withstand.
Wisdom to not just reprimand.

(hopefully even visit Thailand)
With you in my very hand.
Drawing in the sand.

Understand that like all things,
Life is the most inevitable thing.
Exactly as the sun rises to bring for us light,
Soon the moon follows to bathe us in night.

Understand so is true for our happiness,
And then feel nothing but gracious.
Understand so is true for our sadness,
And then see what it is to be selfless.

Realize then it's all just plain madness.

Do you see now that I am faithless, as it lie on the floor alongside what was my happiness.

How do those considered lost become sightless, losing with them their only life's compass.

We all strive slowly, blindly towards what's called progress, really it's all just aimless.

This life's not made for those who are dreamless, for fear of becoming just another nameless.

This life is a piece of art, and in this infinite you are but one of a billion other canvas's.

I wish not to become someone who remains faceless, especially not one to become graveless.

Then we've those who think I'm helpless, maybe even harmless just because of my goodness.

Forgive my likeness to that of the devil for once I am angered don't consider my selflessness.

For when I retreat into myself, into the observed inner darkness all that's left is selfishness.

Realize you have given yourself constraints to a life that's boundless, so judge not the braless.

Consider instead the simple fact your conscious and breathing and not something so lifeless.

What are we not when bathed in utmost brightness, what are we when we are all but careless.

It's within these lonely nights that the coldness is most evident, alongside it's silence and stillness.

I forget that love makes me think that all is but flawless, the truth lies nowhere in it's closeness.

Forgive me for I've angered a God or Goddess, who so stops me from ever tasting life's sweetness.

Maybe it's true. Maybe I am worthless, but who else to gauge me apart from those who are tactless.

It's within my self, the extremities of my weirdness that I myself consider to still be so very wondrous.

Because my one true wish is truly timeless, for me to be remembered solely soulless thus.

Feel//Nothing

2013-12-16T17:32:00.002+08:00

Forgive me my heart,

What were your silent cries,

A fool was I,

To think me smart.

Forgive me my heart,

What were your words,

I chose to ignore,

Why are you torn apart?

Forgive me my heart,

Why are you silent,

Was it all too much,

Was it all for naught?

Forgive me my heart,

Where is your voice,

I hear it not no more,

I promise now to listen.

What really is to blame when your heart grows silent?

To build upon itself walls that need no more reasons.

What really is to blame, all you find are feelings absent?

To want a person that would show nothing but actions.

What really is to blame when it's all just a brave front?

To celebrate our hearts with warmth instead of coffins.

The truth is that this feelings are gone, along with that aging breeze, with those childish whimsies that came along with disappointing fantasies of a handsome prince on a horse which really isn't what's it all about. It's not some cruel joke waiting to be borne from circumstance. Literature has lied, as much as what we're told to be. To think even Sleeping Beauty was given no further thought apart from which to birth a child.

There's nothing left to give, that's the answer most choose to give. Little or no reprieve would be given to those that realize late that your soul isn't a container to store limitless amount of feelings, those that are naive will think that just because they give, they think they will get. Your soul is a well, from which it draws from other souls and their own wells that give their substance within it's flavor, it's richness, and most importantly it's essence of them.

Maybe it's the fear that after closing off the borders into which many have travelled to spread the infection of pain and disappointment deeper still into the vestiges of what is essential my being, my beliefs, my hopes and my humble dreams. People would say to let go and look forward into the future, or maybe even shout 'Carpe Diem' to seize the day.

It's most definitely fear when you finally find yourself in disbelief of what you've achieved, of how far you've gone from that broken pile of emotions and dreams you've crawled yourself out of. The distance you've gone from those that have only dragged you down into their own darkness instead of bringing you out and proudly parading you into the light for all to see.

It is borne from the will to achieve, the will to know that even when you stumble and find yourself back again on that dirty ground,

You'd only need to look up.

To feel something.

Destruction

2013-11-28T13:35:00.004+08:00

What is it to feel small,

Like you're nothing to this world and it's enormity,

Swept against the waves of expectations and doubt,

Unfamiliar and lost with nothing to guide us.

What is it to see the sky,

Really look and it and see what's underneath it all,
To realize our true size in comparison to it all,
To maybe finally see what there is to it all.

I've been in a forest of my own creation for the longest time, just another creature with watchful eyes that observe the other monsters carefully. It's a place where we hide all our deepest fears and insecurities, where all the pain we've ever felt resides inside each and every one of us waiting once again to be remembered, to be felt and to finally have purpose again. It's in this hope that these feelings borne of sorrow and sadness keep others away.

Hardly human, a soul that's been tattered and a beating, bruised heart. Eventually becoming shells of what we once were, and what we consider as 'are'. Make no mistake there is no room for the unimaginative when it comes to having to rebuild ourselves from the ground up. Why do people reject the destruction and annihilation of what a person once was, when we are again finally free of all our inhibitions to recreate ourselves a little bit better this time.

There is no avoiding change, and instead of shirking the responsibility of adaption like any other good multi-cellular organism we choose instead to suffer and reminiscence over memories as if they were current. No form of deceit would ever let you buy into such filthy lies, that no matter how beautiful it may be structured, it is one still to only stop yourself from the destiny life has set for you. Instead of pitying yourself over what's been done, focus on what's to be done.

Don't deny yourself the truth as it speaks to you, before it starts to scream to you and definitely before it becomes another worthless piece of trivia. We accept the things that are convenient to us, whereas we should focus on what troubles us, what gives us concern and doubt. Throughout this never-ending battle against ourselves I wonder whether do we really find ourselves, or do we just give ignore the silent screams from our crushed aspirations and dreams.

These pieces that slowly break,
Just adds on to an everlasting ache.
Possible only from the feelings we make,
Almost a shame it's only for us awake.

For what is it really to dream?
Coming up with any ol' scheme.
Eating all those damn good creams,
But it just calls for a long scream.

Now all that remains is silence. The stillness is felt in the absence of light.
I chose to speak, just that once; everything did indeed seem ike it was right.
I know now I am a dunce, choosing again what does not merit for a fight.
Now needed is an instance, where the answers await our never-ending plight.

Bottled

2013-11-17T18:48:00.000+08:00

by sparringthedarkness.deviantart

It is cracked, maybe even broken.
Far too long, has this bottle been left.
Emotions said were given, nay theft.
Of what is most indeed lacked. Done.

These whisper that promises your heart and souls redemption, it's safety.
These words wear a cover of warmth, but it's origin knows no light.
When will it be learned it's not the idea in which we fall in love with,
It's an intimacy only few could ever dream to describe with simple words.
A beauty that's defined much more than a few simple souls in our passage of time.
It's the feeling of finally belonging, even if it's for an infinitesimal pause.

Often I wonder how others cope with what's in a day, or a night of living this life. What it's like in their battle against all this strife. I've kept too much once again in this container of emotions, mostly unrequited. Not just anger is kept, it's disappointment and blood.

It's from this little container you give your trust or love to another keep. It's this piece of you that throbs in it's absence when another is away, or screams of pain and anguish when found unwanted. It is also this piece you give that when kept close and guarded reveals a connection unique to just another. Linked for now, there's no need for doubt because whether it be happiness or pain you seek, both will come with that it's almost guaranteed.

It's the willingness to risk, where we find our greatest joy and sorrow.
It's that significant silence; looking at one another, and then to understand so simply with a smile.
It's where we find the corrosion of love, the loss of words shared and passion enjoyed. Where the inevitable is taught.
It's the acceptance of presence, where we finally grow.

Where words need naught be sought no longer.
Where love's needn't be feared anymore.

Labyrinth

2013-10-10T00:30:00.000+08:00

"How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering."

- John Green

It's not uncommon to see many a man say that he's got no clue on where he's headed in life,

and maybe it's no coincidence so many feel this strife.

Maybe it's not a path, nor a road but a maze in which we all walk and talk,

an endless labyrinth in which is made of no ordinary rock.

Looking to find something, anything else to cling onto to find meaning in this daze,

but never really finding to be found in this maze.

Which brings me to say we're all confused, yearning to be accepted and loved in more sorts than one. Never does pain say we're done.

It's perfect in complexity, as it is in it's simplicity.

But in regard to treachery, those we thought trustworthy.

It's them we owe to sadly, for walls they built so blindly.

These walls so many close themselves behind,

Clutching at what is only false strength,

These walls which break, just like designed,

Only then do we learn not to fear our mind.

Realize it's not a castle in which you hide,

It's a maze, as magnificent if ever a lie.

Constructed not with mortal mortar and bricks,

But past memories, past pains and past fears.

We all want to found, but remain lost,

Confused, and indecisive and at what cost.

Rather Accept myself as fractured, flawed.

Found myself wanting, more than just words.

More than the empty promises etched here,

More than the unseen wounds scarred here,

For words that for once break, instead of build,

Walls.

Coloured Skin

2013-09-25T00:00:00.000+08:00

Peel back the pigments that cover our fragile selves, and we are all but the same muscle and bone. Written on our flesh, with all the strokes of a furious artist is the masterpiece of life and the brilliance it bathes us all in.

Away with the ever narrow thoughts befouling this world, forget the black, the whites and all in between. We've been bestowed all imaginable spectrum of colours within the confines of our self, so why limit ourselves so?

Strength few truly can find, and a countless and faceless mass of people still so steadily march to the easiest beat of a drum, the weak way out. Giving up on all that is around them, and becoming a selfish almost parasitic entity to themselves and all those around.

Truly it must seem strange for us to bare our naked, beautiful skin to the world. Just not the boring lables of old, the world label us all in. Now so many fail to see the infinite spectrum of colours that streak across us in the most brilliant of ways.

What we need is not categorization or isolation, if ever we needed understanding in this world it would be now and then some. We need our elders to learn that age does not guarantee one wisdom just as much as we know respect is a two-way road one must earn and learn at the same time.

Disregarding the colour that paints my face, no matter my race.
We embrace ourselves in whichever way we perceive ourselves.
Discover with it self and all it's grace, a dream you now chase.
The best for ourselves is to know we can depend on ourselves.
So hide not those colours beneath these silly scars.

Tell us your tale, in the colours you choose to show.
The true colours of a person, that's always on show.

Shadows

2013-09-22T06:08:00.000+08:00

Have you ever spared a thought for those you once held so dear? That life, even love would be so unimaginable and almost unlivable without them. Who's imprint has been left etched into what is your very self.

Memories of a past,

Alive with each thought,

Sad when tragically remembered,

Radiant were these bright lights,

And vast a void it was when lost,

And darker the shadow caught,

Then recall, relive times bygone,

So sleepless is the night.

When is the white.

These remnants of people we once held so close, and how now we realize why maybe it cut deeper than most. Did they not truly shine within your life as part of your happiness without any reasonable doubt. Need not worry when we bring these past lives of people to reminisce and to mostly miss, oh to so mostly miss.

Need not worry when you remember those tears we've shed over lost fathers and lost mothers, and lest we forget those of lost siblings, friends and our dear pets. So bright where these lost lights that their shadows remained forever alive within us as our life and it's experiences. Oh but a lottery indeed in which good or bad hide within the dark.

Some let themselves drown in their own darkness, fester and brood forgetting the warmth that is the light. Wanting to only instead blight, having no care for what is right. Mourn would a kind soul upon such a sad creature, but pity not will I the weak who's only wish is to taint.

I once read an old Cherokee legend where an elder Cherokee was teaching his grandson about life;

"A great fight between a wolf of black and a wolf of white. Black signifies all that is evil, and White signifies all that is good. It's a battle that is in us all. "

Then the grandson curiously asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

"Simple," the old Cherokee replied, "The one you feed."

The one YOU feed.

Closing Chapters

2013-08-07T06:53:00.002+08:00

Each person borne into this world holds with them a book. Whether you like the notion of writing or not doesn't matter, because in this book the chronological tale of you is written.

Written in this book, is everything you've ever experienced; Regardless of course whether or not your conscious mind remembers it or not for it remains etched within the confines of it's pages. This of course means all of your forgotten pains you've come to forget, and defining moments in your life you struggle now to recall.

Whispered conversations in the night of lovers long past, and the fury of words spoken in anger; for whatever reason it might have been.

It is also within these pages that you are currently featured, and not a single detail spared. No words that could come from me, past or present could even hope to describe you. You and the impact you've had to me.

But like every other blessing that has come into my life, you're time seemed too short. Far, far too short. Fallen have my prayers on to the deaf ears of unloving gods, hearing me lament to mortals and the heavens alike.

Too quick, blink and you miss.

So stick around, it's bliss.

Fight the darkness within,

Worry not only for sin,

Breathe in and feel,

Brief is the appeal,

Kneel with me now,

Say with me these vows,

Clasp your hands in mine,

Even without prayer and time,

"Till death do us part,"

Believe me, safe is your heart,

So please hear my plea,

I am the one for thee.

Tired of having to read this imaginary book,

Tired of having to see the crossed out dreams,

Tired of having to remember the fears,

Tired, so tired of closing chapters.

Substance

2013-08-06T06:29:00.000+08:00

When was the last time you lived without the need of something you don't already have?
Don't give me that look, judgmental as if you've experienced it all.
That scoff, unwelcome as is the humor that accompanies it.

It's a daze, everyone wants to be in.

This haze, so many just for the sin.

"What do you need to live?"

It's strange really, how such a simple question made me look so far back into my life. Into the beliefs I've grown to live by, to those who influenced and changed those beliefs I've formed to this day of my life. Excusing of course the bleeding obvious needs to sustain the vital life, I thought; Food, Water, the basic needs of sustenance.

But then I thought, surely love has a place somewhere in this list.
Hereafter starts the various debates I have with my conscious mind.

The same love, I begin to think.

That same love, that creates beautiful gestures.

That same love, that is twisted and ugly.

Surely, the origin of the term substance abuse comes from the overindulgence of the most addictive thing known to mankind. Love. Whatever else it incurs upon us a complement.

A lack of self-love will throw you down a path of 'experimentation' you'd call it. To experience.

Doubt your self so much, you begin to believe.

Believe that there's a purpose behind all this, or so we'd like to believe.

Distracted by the constructs of what love is supposed to be, formed by people who know no better or by those who wish nothing more than you to fantasize of a life to perfect.

I know my answer, love is not a need.
Not my own anymore.

Memories of another's on your skin,

Slowly tracing your frame,

Who's warmth remains longed,

A slight shiver, surely a sin,

Like moths to an open flame,

Human warmth that belonged.

Human warmth. That is a drug of no equal, one that a lonely soul seeks and longs like no drug could ever possible conceive for us to receive.

No form of cut up herb,

These tokes, not a joke.

No form of crushed molly,

These cheap but lasting distractions.

No nothing created by a human, asides from a human itself.

Rattling

2013-08-01T01:58:00.004+08:00

As I look to others, I look to myself.

Is the level of empathy I have for others a gift, I wonder.
A curse, one that ages faster than time ever could.

What a world we live in today,
One that I dare not complain for petty things.

People are dying, suffering.
People are starving, hopeless.

Where do I come around saying anything at all for myself?
Who the hell am I at all to complain in face of such destitute.

I didn't grow up rich, but I had enough.
Without a name with fame either.

So where should I hide my face?
This one that supposedly smiles.

This same face that reaches out inside and gives, and gives.
Pulling out what good that's stored.

Hoping, praying.
Giving the world what I can.

The depths that seemed without end,
Tire the poor soul to exhaustion.

If God were to take me now,
And shake with all his might.

I wonder, would there be a sound left to make inside?

Absent Smoke

2013-07-31T06:55:00.001+08:00

Slowly I watch as I exhale,

This intricate dance in smoke,

That rides on the silent wind,

Towards a soon-covered sun.

The embers grow, another pull,

Acrid smoke fills me,

A slower death than a bullet,

Burning myself slowly inside.

The dark beckons now,
The last hue of orange fading,
As my embers hue grows,
In absence of light.

Poison of choice,
Regal as much as it is legal,
Thoughts drifting again,
In this perpetual daze.

Uneasy, shifty.
Wishing I could rest,
This life, all the best,
For I am just to play guest.

Tainted now is my air and lips,
From tobacco and tar,
I kill this tiny light,
Twisting it right.

A silhouette during the dusk,
Observing, silently.
Hoping, patiently.
For the one closest.

In these steps

2013-07-30T06:51:00.003+08:00

It's the things we do for those who are no longer here.

The things we needn't boast about, for who would brag upon a passing person.
The steps we sometimes retrace in hopes of preserving memories slipping far too fast from our own subconscious and even more so for our conscious present.

It's an emptiness that is almost compulsory though I realize now.
So much more surprising now as I confess, it is not only in death does this apply.

A person could have played their part in your life for this current time and have moved on, or most commonly fall out due having a different view of the world, and a million of other reasons.

I've always associated this month of July with looking back at those people, and sometimes I delve too deeply into reliving scenes of a bygone's past. Lost in unrequited emotions, buried and forgotten to save myself then from suffering from memories that seem so long past now to me.

These actions I've argued touches on sadism, inflicting unseen cuts to your soul knowing that looking back at such memories is pointless yet deeper we wonder into its warm embrace to an empty void, so begins our decent into the rabbit hole.

Everyone's doomed to be a blurred memory at the end of that rabbit hold anyway, so let's make that flashback before we die filled smiles of those who relish in your memory as you preserve their memories.

A Conversation

2013-07-03T05:29:00.002+08:00

An open heart that does not seek,

will find love that only wishes to speak.

For someone quite unique.

In fairytales, and things make believe,

It's with a certain sense of relief.

For someone that wont leave.

A never-ending cycle, fall and hurt

To some it is even sustenance.

For someone, it's just romance.

Even with a glance, you're in a trance.

For more than some, it's simple a dance.

For someone you're the only chance.

This Time in July

2013-07-02T05:11:00.001+08:00

My dear July,

Be good to me.

Keep me still sane,

Through words, free.

Though offered, not tempted,

Though absurd, still grounded,

Through this, glee.

Keep me still again,

Be not angry.

My dear July.

Hope everyone likes the new look of my blog by the way, I hated the temporary one with a vengeance thus I have slaved a couple of hours to present to you this. Feedback would be much appreciated, if not welcome.

Especially on the readability of what I have written concerning the colour and choice of font, again feedback would be appreciated.

As usual, chin up and I hope you all wonderful month ahead of you.

An Observation

2013-06-28T22:01:00.002+08:00

It's through the supposed window to my soul I look upon some of my own people with a slightly furrowed expression. Glancing at them almost worriedly with some form of distrust already programmed into me, but then again how can we not? It's almost impossible not to do a quick one-over of someone new introduced into our lives, trying quickly to gauge whether they're another imminent threat to our already fragile selves, what else but from the humanly disguised monsters that life so readily houses.

I have almost religiously tried to focus on the good that seems to be almost shy away in some, to almost stupidly realize my efforts to be in vain from the beginning when I am disappointed. Why I must ask? Because it was never my fucking problem to begin with, never was it a duty bestowed upon me to fix the ill's of people, but it's never stopped me from trying. That's the faith I hold, though it may be blind, in the good of people. We must also come to realize the line that we must set for ourselves, how much we invest into a person and how if people truly do want to be something for themselves;

they've got to fly themselves.

I have read, been told, and most of all experienced the weaknesses and disappointment associated with this generation, but fortunately I have also experienced in this generations strength's and calling them beautiful would be an understatement of the experiences. Though I am about to contradict myself, how many more of us are going to conveniently be oblivious to the downward spiral we are all in? There's no other way of sugar-coating an issue that I can almost deem too late to address. This isn't a phase we're going through, it's lack of morality and conscience; this isn't a temporary excuse, being selfish and unbecoming has never been.

they've only to see themselves.

We're dying. Within ourselves, individuality being stamped out when your own views don't fit that of the majority.

We're suffering. Silently sometimes, what more can come from rewarding idiocy and egoistical pride?

We're tired. Exhausted that insignificant things that portray little to nothing to an individual is given more importance in life then what should truly matter.

Truly, what does matter anymore?

To Reminisce

2013-06-21T13:36:00.000+08:00

I wonder how many words I have hidden you behind.
I ponder, as few has ever become another beloved.
You who so seemingly give hope, take me for blind.
You which too feign my despair as I am shoved.

That chuckle, or that singular smile only you understand, and of course not forgetting that long-respire when we think back about what was, and what once could be.

Few comforts can be found in this world, with it's harsh realities and self-destructive nature we have towards our own species. Few comforts truly can be found rivaling that of feeling of beating that feeling of incompletion we all fear and doing the imagined equivalent of giving fate the finger. Enough sad stories about what's it is to be in-completely-fatuated with another of the opposite sex. Enough of the bitter denials and realizations of the end of these fiery passions, truly is not all our social media's saturated with enough of these glum tales when we truly know nothing of pain. Such ignorance we all share.

It's a shaky ride trying to come to terms with the special kind of bullshit life can throw your way, not forgetting of course those that seem to live to fuck with your lives. Almost is the justification of my expletives not needed, how truly better to explain the true significance of such occurrences in our lives and to those that have not experienced the many hardship of life, good for you. Trust me you're not missing out on much.

How I often I wonder we find ourselves clutching a thing of the past, a remnant of a past you. Sitting down in scattered memorabilia you find when decide to clean your room during that one blue moon. Sifting through photographed memories in photo albums or frames; who knew that's such a faraway thing now since the emergence of Facebook. Such sentimentality I think is often lost than not in this day and age.

Or even worse maybe, letters still kept from past romances. Read, and reread growing old from the sustenance your self-pity and regret feeds its words etched once upon a time ago, as all fairy tales seem to be. But still save not for those unspoken words, written but never did it's message reach it's intended recipient. Fear of further loss forever delaying it's purpose, and the longer it collects the tick's and the tock's of time, the more of it's intended purpose you realize is lost.

But why focus on that already seems so prominent in this world; death, famine, racism, prejudice and corruption being used by many almost as a daily word in our conversations when in reference to the world these days.

In lieu of my secret desperation to hide and protect,
This love I once so willingly give life with words,
That love I once so voluntary let it's spirit infect,
In regards, my best wishes to all these lovebirds.

Some forget that this world is also referenced by some to be full of life, plenty, unity, tolerance and justice though in small minority. These great few who strive for us and the betterment of us.

That sometimes, a threshold within your psyche breaks all that seemingly collected rotations of the hand on the face of clock reminds that those etched words held meaning, held purpose and wasn't some bedtime story for a child of a Prince that sweeps the Princess from her feet. It's a love of the harsh yet beautiful world of ours, and sometimes this rekindles the dying flames of a passion or even strengthen it to an inferno no amount of literature could explain.

That maybe in that scattered knick-knacks of the past you threw around in that attempt to clean the clutter of your room, lies an object that invokes those memories felt then and there. A time when your shoulders were weightless from the burdens of the world still, free and sincere. Remembering in silent, those who were that for such golden times and reminiscing those who no longer remain here with us but in our hearts.

To those weighted sighs of romances that were just ill-conceived thanks to the many chances and variables that associate with the fate of a person's life. Oh how distant it must be now to think back at those tentative attempts to establish a connection, and to those that have to maintain that intertwined-link between two. Thank god for advancements like Skype and FaceTime, and without childish needs such as having your beau be connected to you 24/7. Gives you more room to breathe and spread your own wings.

If you can't find your own way of being awesome yourself, you're not trying hard enough and you almost definitely have no business trying to go around thinking love is the only way to live life. So take these reminisced memories and let them live their purpose to teach from past mistakes so we may be better ourselves and for those around us.

If not, think of the alternative or not doing so for you and all of us even.

Originally published at www.craftndraft.com

This Path of Life

2013-06-04T04:54:00.005+08:00

Two roads diverged in the yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both,

And be one traveller, long I stood,

And looked down as far as I could,

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

If you haven't read,

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.

Do it.

And so I stood, at the fork on the road.

And looked down as far as I could,

To a horizon so far, soon I hope tread.

And found in relief was not surprised.

And the path soon taken, alone not advised.

Strange, wonderful and terrible people,

Living life has given and taken many strange, wonderful and terrible people from my life. From these people I've learned a great deal in so many things; both in embodiments of the joy's and ill's of life. People who are so quiet and shy, but when they open up it's truly a sight to behold such guarded positivity. Which leads to why they stay so shy, as if instinctively guarding them from the i'll's of life that may at times cripple you, which I admit ever so proudly, at times have made me ponder leading a short yet tragic life, but then I digress. Need I explain the things you're already thinking as I mention these experiences to you?

Chance, if life could be surmised into a single word logically, this word would be a sure hit. Surmised where you're brought into in this world, and with only the level of awareness of the denizens that certain spot of Earth has of it's surroundings and it's significance on the grand scale..

Fear, as we grow older we grow further aware that further we walk down the path of life, the less certain we truly are of it's winding roads and dimly path ways is not then we begin to pave our own paths away from the guiding lights of our parents or guardians, as we ourselves must endure through the hardships life can bring in our life-long march.

Hardships, the many shapes and forms of it that presents itself like a shapeshifting hydra. A play and a test on our mental constitution; our critical thinking and problem solving without both truly astray our lives would be.

Love, it's seducing allure and the tempting feeling it is to not be alone as you tread that path in your life; some dare raise the argument it can be filled with the love of friends and I spit back at them how dare they compare such beautiful things in life together, but as they differ they are to be taken in entirely different. Having filled that void you all know is wonderful, as it is inversely almost deadly when that void returns at heartbreaks call.

Betrayal, who has yet to not feel this poisoned blade pierce through your skin as it's poison almost steals your breath in surprise at how some of your most trusted comrades and confidantes, even your parents and guardians sometimes take from you something so hard to ever give back. Trust.

Self-destruction, an act where we see those who so defiantly never want to help themselves. But then it's an open debate with ourselves why we ever help them at all. Is it an attempt to try to ease pain that we ourselves still have, and pain that they so shamelessly display for all to view? I again digress, for sometimes we are those who need help the most. We of all people, need to let go the most.

Now as we all collect our respective memories of life and sigh, as a close I'd like to share with you that no matter what sometimes we gotta remind ourselves to soldier on against the odds. For even though I lost the one who I so honestly thought I'd spent my life alive with, lost my mind in the process of that lost. 7 years, I think. That's awhile. I learnt to pick myself up, love again and sadly lose again.

Remember the well known phrase? "We fall so we can get back up stronger than ever." It should be reminded that on this path we're always falling, always scraping those knee's falling, always getting up.

So go figure.

Mascarade

2013-05-27T06:03:00.002+08:00

At the end of my days of rational thought often misplaced with my unhealthy search of another distraction whatever form I might find it, may it be in physical or mental. I realize the many persona's or masks I adopt gradually losing track of which one I am supposed to be and reverting back to my original medium, the most cracked and worn of all the shed masks.

The one that I have difficult most wearing would be the mask that is most true to my self.

Before you shrug it off, think about it. Do you not show a different side of yourself, a mask if you'd call it to people of different standings to you. Friends, Relativ/es, A Lover, A Spouse, even your pet dog or cat. Least not forget the mask you show to those who anger you, those who caused a of throbbing wound on your heart or those who broke your fragile trust. Are these not the many masks you carry around you?

I've grown to a small understanding now at these many masks we carry with us. The first mask we wear is that to hide our true selves in fear not being accepted, in fear of being ridiculed by those we yearn acceptance from. So we mold our first mask into what it is to be 'normal' by the rules of society. Doomed to hide our true colours till that one person makes us feel safe enough to take off the first of many masks. It's almost cruel this first mask, because mostly children discover and wear it. What could be more cruel than to find a child fearful of the world instead of a child wide-eyed and curious to all that is around him.

Some I think, never take this fearful mask of.

The second mask is something we're all familiar with, the mask given to us by those who have raised us. Enclosed within is it's the legacy that is passed down to you by your caretakers, It is a mask that houses their expectations of what we are and what we are to become. This gives us purpose, a goal to strive to. Some shedding their masks for another stronger calling, some letting their masks go to rot and disrepair which seems a fitting window to their outlook on life. This is the mask you wear each and every day to the world.

So why are some so truly ugly?

The third mask is harder to come by, it's a mask of indifference. It is a show of life experience, be it good or bad and can come in a number of ways. With so much going on with the world and it's people on it, sometimes having so much to process makes for individuals that desensitize themselves from the problems of the world, of others not immediately related to them. It makes liars, so bad even that they;d willing to lie about how they truly feel, some almost not standing for anything at all; Even themselves, in the path of just trying to be left alone.

A mask that only spits venomous lies.

The fourth, my personal favourite.

The mask that shows or is willing to show nothing, that is so tired of the shit that the world so conveniently perpetually spews. Unwilling to let anyone past the facade so firmly implemented into itself. Most don't even realize that this mask is on, because of it's similarity to the first but don't make that mistake, the first mask employs a fake personality to please whereas the fourth alternatively employs nothing to please no one it doesn't wish.

The owner's of the fourth mask twist, bend and break themselves reinventing their persona's at all times.

When one stares at a still personality, it makes you wonder what's beneath the calm surface.

Fear

2013-03-14T06:21:00.001+08:00

I tend to get lost in thought when people ask what is it that I fear most in life, because true fear is not just limited by the many phobias a person can have but rather what affects a person most, be it physically or mentally. It is something that suffocates and crushes the will of a person and envelopes them in a darkness that no light seems to be able to pierce.

I fear people.

Logically, I can never understand how we as human beings are predisposed to do good but almost always choose to go down a path of selfish desire. I doubt the existence of this predisposition as I doubt the existence of anything as fantastical as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. How can we fear monsters, spirits and demons when the true monsters stalk the Earth so openly. No animal or spiritual being can hurt "us", the human race in general as much as we hurt ourselves.

I cannot wrap my head around those who choose to use others, nor be dishonest in face of those who are honest. Utter words that mean nothing to those that care so deeply for them. I frown as I wonder how and when did the we as humans lose sight of what it is to be human, this perversion of our priorities of what really mattered.

There's is a naivety within myself that I wish dead sometimes, because it does not cope well with what I have already experienced. I would think it is where my childish hopes remain, if ever a time a situation presents itself, I would wish to see those individuals around me to do what is right and just not what is convenient and easy. I'm sure as children we don't drift too far from what we want to become as adults, so what the fuck killed all your inner kids?

I fear losing my inner child.

I'm Twenty-Two years old this coming July. Nowhere near the age to call myself wise nor am I young enough to still be so foolish any longer. I look to my peers and wonder in which paths shall these individuals take, and where will they end up in the strive for popularity, opinions, drugs or parties. Sometimes I fear for them, for I care for them but lately I'm starting to grow indifferent, selfish even at the wants of my own heart whims these walls around my heart grow only larger.

Humans truly are monsters, but some of us try to keep the world beautiful.

So I've decided instead of fighting these monsters I'm going to join them. Join them and revel in whatever it is they do because putting aside petty needs like caring for those who do so little to deserve it, trying so hard to be a source of warmth for so many. It's left me only wanting and wondering whether this is all worth it? I'm not going to die a Saint nor was this ever my duty to begin with.

My shop is closed. I hope now, these fears will subside. For if I spend any longer fearing the night where the crushing loneliness and fear I have achieved absolutely nothing for myself is to continue, my inner child really will die.

That is unacceptable.

Action

2013-02-25T16:02:00.001+08:00

I ask myself always what it is like I wonder to bask in the light and absorb in it's radiance. It looks so nice, so warm.

Funny it is to find individuals who from time to time peek outwards into this light from their corners they have chosen to hide themselves. Funnier still there exist individuals who push others out and onto the light again, who else would know best to escape this sightless abyss but those who reside in it the longest?

The loneliest people are the kindest,
The saddest people are the brightest,
The most damaged people are the wisest,
All because they do not wish anyone to suffer as they do.

Is it not ironic that those who are already suffering still try to be saviors, to try their hand at redemption. To wonder even, if they ever go missing.

Would they be missed? Would it even matter.

If misery ever loves company, then I assure you this is not misery I feel. It wishes those who are around me to be happy at all times, even if that means giving away what little happiness I have. It wishes to have another to reach into the void that used to house my trust, my heart, my soul and pull from it Hope.

That maybe someone in this same darkness would push me out as well and I'd pull that soul out with me, until then.

I remain.

A Chat With God.

2013-02-17T08:49:00.002+08:00

So God gave me a choice between having whatever it is I desire in life or the love of my life.
The catch to this was that if I chose one I'd never be able to have the other in my life.

To alleviate any vagueness in my words I'd further explain that whatever it is I want in life and the love of my life cannot be one of the same, so to that I must ask who on this Earth isn't a selfish prick anymore?

I thought and pondered and then I smiled and looked at God. "Whatever it is I want? Then without a doubt it is all the wealth and health I'd ever need to be happy in my life, without love" Understandably, an expression of shock showed on his ageless features. If anyone knew me better as a person it would undoubtably be him.

"But why?.." he asked, with a voice that resounded around me and had an uncanny resemblance to that of Morgan Freeman. Maybe it sounded different to a chosen individual.

"Because love undeniably is one of my biggest wants in life as well, but it is also one of the largest curses given to humanity. I compare it to an imaginary open wound on one's chest and soul. Whatever for would I want to continue to widen and tug at this pain?"

What seemed like an almighty eternity passed before he spoke again, "Very well" God said. "If that is what you truly wish."

"Oh, that isn't what I wish, but between the choices you have given me, that answer seems quite apparent." I replied curtly. "What I wish for is people to be true to their wants and needs, to be happy with what they have and for God'-uhh your sake's to love each other"

With the eyes of an aged monarch, a wise father, and that of a being with no equal amount of caring; God said, "Impossible, though you have been given the ability to do so, it is almost obvious that once set in your selfish ways you cannot will yourself to part from it. It is only the naive thoughts of a man."

"You did say it is what I wish, and make no mistake as you of all beings would know I am not a saint either my... Uhh, benevolence." Funnily enough, talking to God is starting to seem tediously formal. " I have done my fair share of selfish decisions in the same sea that resides my selflessness."

A noticeable frown traces his features. I continue;

"Do you not wish the same? For your creations to be happy for themselves unlike I who just wishes the happiness for all those around me? Specifically those that deserve to be happy."

After a short pause, God sighs and I swore a warm comforting breeze gusts by as he replies, "With that manner of thought, why do you suggest you have been allowed an audience with me now?"

This question, came to me at as a slight surprise. I struggle and noticeably shift uncomfortable at the lingering thoughts that have been murmuring why is it that a naive mortal such as I was allowed an audience, but before my mind prepares a decent enquiry he answers for me.

"You in your love of life and it's denizens have passed, the reason being the same said love. Do you not regret having nothing whatsoever in your end?" My, my was that sarcasm? Didn't know deities could do that, seems very human. In their image and whatnot.

"Nope." Without missing a beat of this conversation. "Whatever for is there to regret about? I am proud to have achieved any number of smiles and any number of people that were reminded on how great they truly are.If it is my time, then well you know what I am to ask next."

God's expression soften ever so slightly. Surely in his omnipotence he knows what I seek now, what it is I have lost. To inspire me to never want anyone to know such remorse.

God's brilliant smile temporarily blinds me, but unfazed I gaze forth.

"She's been waiting for awhile now. Come have your true wish."

Dream Blog #2

2013-02-14T23:21:00.004+08:00

I was crying. As all dreams you just get chucked into the middle of it when you realize you are and I gave up trying to control my dreams quiet awhile ago, repercussions of not having good control were some seriously, seriously nasty nightmares.

I had lost someone, or was I still trying to chase this person? It was someone important I was sure.

The space around me which I once thought black wasn't anymore. I was in a crowd of people and in these sobs I stop immediately, I of all things fear showing how I really feel infront of people and that just sent too many panic impulses to my brain to stop crying. There was music too, did I leave the computer on I wondered?

If there was ever a time I struggled and I felt a drive to want to escape; this was it. It seemed like having to push through people that just didn't want to move, people who were set in stone in where they stood and in my desperate attempts to leap and jump I see that person. I still don't know who it is, but she's not amongst the crowd.

There's a river? No, it's ankle deep water. She's looking the other wa-no, she glances over her shoulder quickly, only her silhouette still visible. Another silhouette appears behind her, and at the last struggle I fall.

Thus that spasm you have when you dream of having great falls or trips. Can't I have nice dreams I wonder.

Passion

2013-02-10T05:24:00.001+08:00

I'm far too intoxicated for this,
I'm far too broken for bliss.

Too late is it for a savior,
Too late is it to watch my behavior.

Leave me as I shiver in tears,
Leave me for I am in prayer.

A wish it is we all have to be immune, numb from all the pain that the world can dish at us. Specifically pain that draws not blood from us, but injures and scars our body and heart in spirit. No bandage nor no proven science can cure this pain.

A whole other thing it is to be accustomed to this pain, the drawbacks from being so used to it's application on our sightless selves is something that no one has dared yet measure. What is it to feel, to believe, to experience in happiness but be ready for it's departure and loss so quickly. What has this one single soul experienced to be so quick at accepting the imminent absence in happiness? Life, people has an uncanny ability to spawn strength so unbecoming and detrimental to a person's being.

I need to stop lying to myself,
The drawbacks too unsightly still.

Nothing seems to be the answer to my depth,
And even less comes from my form of goodwill.

Stop listening I shall to my hope,
Start listening I will to my instinct.

As this noose tightens, "snap" goes the rope,
Hah, finally an end comes to my thinking.

Reincarnated I am under a blinding light,
As ever it seems, it only is a short respite.

Weak-willed is what's left of my might,
Will I ever be just allright?

If there has ever been one strength that I must fall to my knees and prostrate for it's forgiveness is that of my instincts. Forgive me for all the unneeded pain, the scars, the wasted tears and time I could have avoided if only I listened to you.

If only. Doesn't that seem to be the word that runs the world?

Horses

2013-02-04T21:57:00.000+08:00

I have paraphrased this a little, as I don't remember exactly what was said.

"You can't just be given a horse that acts perfect accordingly, knows when to jump and rides perfect because when you're given a horse that rears and bucks and doesn't listen to a single command you give, you would not know how to handle that horse. Remember as well, if a horse is an Arab it would always be Arab no matter how far it goes in it's life, it cannot change what it is and no matter how much you wish it to be something it is not."

The above analogy was a comparison made to my recent complaints about what it is that is pestering, bothering and down right irritating my fragile little heart.

It's a wonder how when you imagine horses, you think of free-spirited powerful and formidable animals that gallop so elegantly and freely but then again, I'm pretty old fashioned when it comes to how I think and that's how I see these beautiful creatures. Instead of how they are used for equestrian shows or gambling. Seriously, I think we've tamed too many creatures that exude the qualities of freedom.

Now, if only I can channel some of that freedom into my decision making.

Hope

2013-02-01T20:54:00.000+08:00

I've come quite a ways from the person that started this blog so many years ago, with this I have hit two hundred posts filled to the brim with what essentially makes a single, me. What a journey it has been for me to pour into these pages all the good, the bad, and the worst of me.

I started this blog planning that my future self would look back upon all it's prior contents and evaluate whether I have grown as a person, for the betterment of society and those that surround themselves around me. So, as I look back flipping through dusted memories of words filled more with rage and sorrow than joy and happiness I wonder whether I truly have grown or have disassociated myself from these feelings then so raw and unfamiliar with my growing physical and mental self. I wonder further have I just become disconnected instead with trying to "feel" anymore, the world has a nasty habit of making the brightest people into the coldest.

Like a bird you are in life, and instead of the world at your feet you are in a a field as far as your eyes can see. Free to do anything your little body is willing to take itself. Come the change of seasons, come different obstacles and challenges to face. Play not safe, stick not near the ground where all the flowers and fruits lay. Gifted with the ability to soar, waste not. See the horizon like none have before.

I still shrug and smirk at myself when I look in the mirror wondering whether I have become someone acceptable to my peers, and with these ample amount of experience I can safely say the only person I need acceptance from is myself. I dictate where I go forth from the nest that my parents so painstakingly built. But I have sacrificed something far more precious I think, my ability to "feel" and all that's left is indifference not experience to overcome all these hardship through my heart.

Haven't we all experienced our good own share of emotions, ranging from the dull pain of a heartache to that absolute ecstasy. Haven't we all wondered where we all started to shape our adult forms from our adolescent minds. I put into this post my very best attempts that come to mind in bettering our hopeless and hopeful selves.

The reason why I titled this post as "Hope"? Quite simply because as I only know how to express myself through my state of emotions. So all my hopes were riding on something, as naively I know it is to put all my eggs in a basket. I did. Cause I needed something to believe in, I wanted something to believe in. Now here I stand, at the heights of my doubts in which I put my hopes on. Wondering as I look on to an imaginary expanse, will it be the one.

You're my hope.