I've tried my best to not judge about people around me, and perhaps I secretly hope that everyone will stop jumping into conclusions about one's character without knowing him or her personally. If it happens that you are kissing someone you just met on the dance floor, or exchanged numbers with someone you find attractive, or just grooving to the music in each other's arms, that isn't being slutty. How can you judge one based on what they've not done?
One thing I know about all of us is that we are only responsible for who we are, not what others think we are. Oh, we are also only responsible for what we say, not what others think we say. And we are also only responsible for what we did, not what others think we did. Life's too short to even care at all.
March 23, 2013
March 21, 2013
Plagiarize the thoughts of people who've learnt the wisdom of silence.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I keep saying that I'm sorry. I know it's strange, strange in a "Why hasn't anyone learnt the difference between 'your' and 'you're' yet?" kinda way. But I say I'm sorry for stupid shit and trivial things and he sings the sweet logic that apologies should grow like trees, only able to bear fruit if it's root is planted in the soil of genuine sincerity.
Because before I met you I used to want to lock myself into a vault just to feel precious, just to feel wanted and loved. But now with every kiss hello and good bye - I feel a self-worth no banker can tally. Now I wanna know what it would be like to know you phonetically, to hold you unapologetically.
And, I'm sorry that when you sleep next to me, or when you sleep on the floor, you're forced to listen to the symphony of the unplugged nostril. And I'm sorry for calling you names, that's fucked up. Fucked up in a 'I just bought a boat so I can go rowing with you' kind of way. And crazier than that is the fact that I'll play at being brave. Now, don't doubt about the worth of your life. When you're trying to dodge a tidal wave, when you've got no time to save anybody but yourself - you better believe that you're worth it.
And you're worth the time it takes to take the time to get to know you. We've managed to muddle through the awkward stages of I like you and do you like me. And when we both said 'yes' life became a multiple choice test, not knowing anything we could be each others' best guess. And, to be able to hold your hand is less like exploration and more like discovery.
And, like the best idea I'll ever have, I want you to occur to me daily. And, I'm sorry, but I want to kiss you every time you have something incredible to say. But you're beautiful, beautiful in a 'you' kinda way. I wanna tell you a secret and I want you to listen with your lips. I want my hands on your hips, I want to put myself in your heart, like they were their final resting place. I'm more inclined to find a space in your heart to haunt for as long as you want me to.
And, this isn't the greatest romance the world has ever seen. I've come to realize romance should be less like a flower and more like an earthquake. And I'm not saying that I wanna shake cities to the ground, where we find the kind of tolerance to rebuild in the face of tragedy. Because I'm tired of living in a world that says people only come together when faced with catastrophe. I want you and me to come together to face everything. I want you to want me to be the me you see, and as for romance well I want that too.
I wanna fall asleep next to you a million times a night so I can know you a million times better before we hit the daylight. And in spite of all of these, I also want amnesia. So that I can relive each kiss with a perfect newness. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I want so much. I'm sorry that I've been using I'm sorry as a crutch to lean on for so long. But if you sing me that song of sweet logic again then I promise to make the effort to stand on my own."
Because before I met you I used to want to lock myself into a vault just to feel precious, just to feel wanted and loved. But now with every kiss hello and good bye - I feel a self-worth no banker can tally. Now I wanna know what it would be like to know you phonetically, to hold you unapologetically.
And, I'm sorry that when you sleep next to me, or when you sleep on the floor, you're forced to listen to the symphony of the unplugged nostril. And I'm sorry for calling you names, that's fucked up. Fucked up in a 'I just bought a boat so I can go rowing with you' kind of way. And crazier than that is the fact that I'll play at being brave. Now, don't doubt about the worth of your life. When you're trying to dodge a tidal wave, when you've got no time to save anybody but yourself - you better believe that you're worth it.
And you're worth the time it takes to take the time to get to know you. We've managed to muddle through the awkward stages of I like you and do you like me. And when we both said 'yes' life became a multiple choice test, not knowing anything we could be each others' best guess. And, to be able to hold your hand is less like exploration and more like discovery.
And, like the best idea I'll ever have, I want you to occur to me daily. And, I'm sorry, but I want to kiss you every time you have something incredible to say. But you're beautiful, beautiful in a 'you' kinda way. I wanna tell you a secret and I want you to listen with your lips. I want my hands on your hips, I want to put myself in your heart, like they were their final resting place. I'm more inclined to find a space in your heart to haunt for as long as you want me to.
And, this isn't the greatest romance the world has ever seen. I've come to realize romance should be less like a flower and more like an earthquake. And I'm not saying that I wanna shake cities to the ground, where we find the kind of tolerance to rebuild in the face of tragedy. Because I'm tired of living in a world that says people only come together when faced with catastrophe. I want you and me to come together to face everything. I want you to want me to be the me you see, and as for romance well I want that too.
I wanna fall asleep next to you a million times a night so I can know you a million times better before we hit the daylight. And in spite of all of these, I also want amnesia. So that I can relive each kiss with a perfect newness. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I want so much. I'm sorry that I've been using I'm sorry as a crutch to lean on for so long. But if you sing me that song of sweet logic again then I promise to make the effort to stand on my own."
Oh que sara sara.
I don't know what to do with impossible. I dont know much about the world, yet. So, I dont know what I can do to change the world. So no matter that I have inhibitions to fill all my pockets, I keep trying, hoping that one day I'll do something I can be proud to let sit in a museum exhibit as the only proof I existed.
"Yet, I see the impossible every day. Impossible is trying to connect in this world, trying to hold onto others while things are blowing up around you, knowing that while you're speaking, they aren't just waiting for their turn to talk - they hear you. They feel exactly what you feel at the same time that you feel it. It's what I strive for every time I open my mouth; that impossible connection.
When I meet you, in that moment, I'm no longer a part of your future. I start quickly becoming part of your past. But in that instant, I get to share your present. And you, you get to share mine. And that is the greatest present of all. So if you tell me I can do the impossible, I'll probably laugh at you. I don't know if I can change the world yet, because I don't know that much about it. But if you make me laugh hard enough, sometimes I forget what century I'm in. This isn't my first time here. This isn't my last time here. These aren't the last words I'll share. But just in case, I'm trying my hardest to get it right this time around."
"Yet, I see the impossible every day. Impossible is trying to connect in this world, trying to hold onto others while things are blowing up around you, knowing that while you're speaking, they aren't just waiting for their turn to talk - they hear you. They feel exactly what you feel at the same time that you feel it. It's what I strive for every time I open my mouth; that impossible connection.
When I meet you, in that moment, I'm no longer a part of your future. I start quickly becoming part of your past. But in that instant, I get to share your present. And you, you get to share mine. And that is the greatest present of all. So if you tell me I can do the impossible, I'll probably laugh at you. I don't know if I can change the world yet, because I don't know that much about it. But if you make me laugh hard enough, sometimes I forget what century I'm in. This isn't my first time here. This isn't my last time here. These aren't the last words I'll share. But just in case, I'm trying my hardest to get it right this time around."
March 14, 2013
Blah
I realised I tend to get so frustrated at everything about myself when I meet a setback. I know I should be going easy on myself but I wouldn't want to omit the possibility of me being the one at fault. I know this is detrimental, but in a way, I want to improve myself to make myself feel better.
Then comes the frustration about people who dismiss it easily when I tell them about my problems. I get so frustrated that I don't even want to talk about it anymore. Why do I not want to tell people about my problems? First in the list is because I don't want to be an emotional burden to others. And of course the next is when people find it so easy to 'deal' with me dismissively, even though I just need a listening ear. Why would I even want to talk to people about myself when all they do is to shake it off with a vague and insensitive remark?
Meh.
Then comes the frustration about people who dismiss it easily when I tell them about my problems. I get so frustrated that I don't even want to talk about it anymore. Why do I not want to tell people about my problems? First in the list is because I don't want to be an emotional burden to others. And of course the next is when people find it so easy to 'deal' with me dismissively, even though I just need a listening ear. Why would I even want to talk to people about myself when all they do is to shake it off with a vague and insensitive remark?
Meh.
March 13, 2013
Now I have to change my pillow case.
Then I woke up crying and I realised it was a dream.
Fear is the heart of love
Perhaps it is the fear of knowing the truth, and that truth is what I've imagined and feared, that I pull myself away from the falling deeper, knowing that I was probably thinking too much, assuming that things happened even though they might not have happened in the first place.
Perhaps it is the fear of losing him even as a friend, that I try not to probe too much, asking about things he might not want to say, questioning his words wondering if they are honest and real.
Perhaps it is the fear of falling too fast and sinking too deep, that I struggle to get out, only to fall over and over again. Twisting and turning my body like a professional contortionist, only to fall over and over again.
When love pulls you in like quicksand, and the only way to get out is to stay still and take your time, get to the edge and play a slow game of tug-o-war. And when you finally get yourself out, you ought to feel relieved and free but you find bruises on your hands, your body sore and fatigued from the struggles. You know you've gained freedom once again, yet etched in your mind you've gained fear too. Lost something during the struggles, maybe a shoe or a sock, or maybe a part of you still trapped on the bed of the quicksand. And the fear still haunts you till this very day, telling you "This is dangerous, never ever step inside again."
God, I wished I learnt.
Perhaps it is the fear of losing him even as a friend, that I try not to probe too much, asking about things he might not want to say, questioning his words wondering if they are honest and real.
Perhaps it is the fear of falling too fast and sinking too deep, that I struggle to get out, only to fall over and over again. Twisting and turning my body like a professional contortionist, only to fall over and over again.
When love pulls you in like quicksand, and the only way to get out is to stay still and take your time, get to the edge and play a slow game of tug-o-war. And when you finally get yourself out, you ought to feel relieved and free but you find bruises on your hands, your body sore and fatigued from the struggles. You know you've gained freedom once again, yet etched in your mind you've gained fear too. Lost something during the struggles, maybe a shoe or a sock, or maybe a part of you still trapped on the bed of the quicksand. And the fear still haunts you till this very day, telling you "This is dangerous, never ever step inside again."
God, I wished I learnt.
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