I don't want to leave this place. Yet, the very things that would keep me are the things that make me want to leave. It IS fucking painful to leave this accursed place. As fucked up as it is, much of what I love remains here.
It pains me to leave but I can't stay. Insanity is tempting. Frustration creeps in daily to veer me towards that path.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
No, I have things to do.
Time to twiddle my thumbs and get off my bum.
I love this plot of land near where I live.
I love this plot of land near where I live.
I'm not tired.
"I think sleeping is a waste of time. If I could, I would not sleep at all."
That was when life was exciting and there were much things to be done - articles to be read, music to be listened to, movies to be watched, conversations to be had, cigarettes to be enjoyed, and wine to be binge-drunk.
Strangely, I feel that way now, too. Albeit, not so much the cigarettes and wine. I do admit, though, that the thought of it is rousing. Has things come full-circle for me or is this some form of coping mechanism in anticipation of what is to come?
Perhaps, it is just the compulsive list-maker and list-doer in me at work. I have come up with many extensive lists of what I need to do before I go. Lists about what I should do there in my personal time have already been started on.
Or perhaps, life is becoming more exciting again. Well, I do profess to flutters in my stomach when I see her lately, and I look forward very much to our rendezvous in foreign lands when I get my breaks. In addition, I also feel released from the chains that have bound me from the beginning of 2010. My captors had once made me miserable to the point of despondence. There was no comfort, except alcohol-induced oblivion to my regrettable predicament. Now that I can leave the dreary cell that once held me, I seem to have found my wings again.
It's 3A.M. and I'm still here typing, thinking about her and my to-do list for tomorrow. It's SUCH a breath of fresh air...very much like that of this jungle that I will soon call my second home.
That was when life was exciting and there were much things to be done - articles to be read, music to be listened to, movies to be watched, conversations to be had, cigarettes to be enjoyed, and wine to be binge-drunk.
Strangely, I feel that way now, too. Albeit, not so much the cigarettes and wine. I do admit, though, that the thought of it is rousing. Has things come full-circle for me or is this some form of coping mechanism in anticipation of what is to come?
Perhaps, it is just the compulsive list-maker and list-doer in me at work. I have come up with many extensive lists of what I need to do before I go. Lists about what I should do there in my personal time have already been started on.
Or perhaps, life is becoming more exciting again. Well, I do profess to flutters in my stomach when I see her lately, and I look forward very much to our rendezvous in foreign lands when I get my breaks. In addition, I also feel released from the chains that have bound me from the beginning of 2010. My captors had once made me miserable to the point of despondence. There was no comfort, except alcohol-induced oblivion to my regrettable predicament. Now that I can leave the dreary cell that once held me, I seem to have found my wings again.
It's 3A.M. and I'm still here typing, thinking about her and my to-do list for tomorrow. It's SUCH a breath of fresh air...very much like that of this jungle that I will soon call my second home.
Monday, September 20, 2010
The count.
Day 21.
It's what's scrawled in my notebook under today's date. It should read "21 more days" but I chose to write it this way for it seems more post-cataclysmic, instead of the other way round.
Fail.
Worst thing is, I've written the corresponding number for all the days before 11 October as well. I usually work better with deadlines so I hope this failed attempt at calming myself produces energy that propels me to spend the rest of my days here productively and purposefully.
I'm gonna miss you.
It's what's scrawled in my notebook under today's date. It should read "21 more days" but I chose to write it this way for it seems more post-cataclysmic, instead of the other way round.
Fail.
Worst thing is, I've written the corresponding number for all the days before 11 October as well. I usually work better with deadlines so I hope this failed attempt at calming myself produces energy that propels me to spend the rest of my days here productively and purposefully.
I'm gonna miss you.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
It's you. I know now.
Today, I fell in love. Again.
No cosy booths nor picturesque backdrops. Just heartfelt sincerity and unbarred conversation, interjected by tears, laughter, and reflection.
I'm glad I found her again. And through her, I find myself.
Though change is due in the coming of October, I think us refreshed and able to contend. Think not what may lie in our way, but what we can accomplish by leaping over them.
Three and a-third of a year we have now spent, but three and a-third of our lives we've yet to share.
I mark these moments as one of those by which I measure my life's worth.
No cosy booths nor picturesque backdrops. Just heartfelt sincerity and unbarred conversation, interjected by tears, laughter, and reflection.
I'm glad I found her again. And through her, I find myself.
Though change is due in the coming of October, I think us refreshed and able to contend. Think not what may lie in our way, but what we can accomplish by leaping over them.
Three and a-third of a year we have now spent, but three and a-third of our lives we've yet to share.
I mark these moments as one of those by which I measure my life's worth.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Easy, or difficult, is but a perspective.
Being able to love and be loved is the greatest gift of all. But surely it does not need to be the most difficult gift of all. Yes, it may come early to some and later to others; but when it arrives, isn't it only natural to be ecstatic and to hope that it will last forevermore? Romance, butterflies in the stomach, light-headedness - aren't these things what one experiences right from the beginning? They were...easy. It's easy to create romance, easy to feel like a thousand butterflies are fluttering in your tummy, easy to get light-headed from a simple kiss.
Easy, fucking E-A-S-Y.
So what makes "easy" become "difficult"?...Life? It's meaningless, anyway - this thing called life. Love gives life its meaning. If one doesn't spend life loving and being loved then life TRULY becomes a fucking chore. A royal fucking pain-in-the-ass. A royal fucking "difficult".
I should stop.
Being able to love and be loved is the greatest gift of all. But surely it does not need to be the most difficult gift of all. Yes, it may come early to some and later to others; but when it arrives, isn't it only natural to be ecstatic and to hope that it will last forevermore? Romance, butterflies in the stomach, light-headedness - aren't these things what one experiences right from the beginning? They were...easy. It's easy to create romance, easy to feel like a thousand butterflies are fluttering in your tummy, easy to get light-headed from a simple kiss.
Easy, fucking E-A-S-Y.
So what makes "easy" become "difficult"?...Life? It's meaningless, anyway - this thing called life. Love gives life its meaning. If one doesn't spend life loving and being loved then life TRULY becomes a fucking chore. A royal fucking pain-in-the-ass. A royal fucking "difficult".
I should stop.
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