I Must Quit, I Must Quit, You

Still reeling from a jilted heart from 3 years ago, was it fair on her? Was it right of him? Why, she never asked. Closure, she never got. Remember, does he? 'Does he remember?', she often wonders.

Yet they hang around each other...still, like lost souls, existing without really living, talking without really meaning a single word they say. The hypocrisy shows, an observer can tell, passer-bys can see. Sitting across from each other, she sips on coffee while he blows air rings. Awkward silences fill the space between them, and yet...they still hang around each other. Out of boredom, perhaps. Out of loneliness, more so. But as we all know, misery loves company, and she found it in the both of them.

I'm Just Fine

Current mood: Wistful
Currently listening to: I Can Feel A Hot One by Manchester Orchestra

Sometimes I want to revisit the past,
to remember the nostalgia that I have forgotten.

Sometimes I want to leap into the future,
to escape yesterday for a better tomorrow.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I want to stay in the present,
and hang on to that feeling and hope it lasts forever.

But it doesn't.

Is It Too Late To Get Off?

[Inspired by Janoz's 'Twenty Years Later' entry.]

I can't probably say the same things as you, Jan.

Not at this point in my life;

Where the ground below me seems so shaky.

1 year, 5 months and 3 weeks later...

I find myself at a similar crossroad where I once was

...8 months ago.

1 year, 5 months and 3 weeks later...

I realise I've been riding on the wrong track.

Clueless about where I'm heading.

Clueless about what I'm doing.

Clueless.

Yet I know I'm on the wrong track.

Riding one that goes against my passion.

My joy.

My personality.

Myself.

I am unhappy.

But is it all too late?

Too late to rectify the past?

To correct my decisions?

I am miserable.

Will I still be, twenty years later?

Unloading

Sometimes...

I just feel like pouring everything out.

I feel like standing at the top of the mountain and just scream my lungs out.

I feel like telling someone to just shut the 'bleep' up.

I feel like crushing boxes and breaking bones.

I feel like speeding down the highways at 180km/h.

But I don't. Cause my very old car can barely notch 120 without feeling like it's going to fall apart. No. That's not the point.

Sometimes, I really just wish people could know ME. But telling on myself would probably only attract sympathy, which I really don't need. Nor charity. (But I wouldn't turn it down. Kidding.) I just want empathy.

But I still won't tell. Cause I can't, and I won't, and therefore I shan't.

Whoever said life is simple probably never lived.

Anyway, I'm sure everyone has problems. Personal, non-personal, whatever. Thus, I don't need to publish an autobiography, detailing my every dilemma, predicament or life issue. Cause firstly, that would be selfish of me. And secondly, I doubt my autobiography would even sell. Hah.

Cheers.

p/s: Sometimes I do feel C****tianity is just a whole lot of bull.

brokeNiNside

When you've fallen the hardest,

cut the deepest,

cried the longest,

and then realise,

emptiness.

Emptiness in the heart;

emotionally detached from all entanglement

is when I sometimes feel,

truly liberated.

Rumination

Life is short.

Without a doubt.

19 years have passed me by and my accomplishments don't measure up.

Regretting will only give me more time to reflect on the past and less time to think about the future.

I am 19, and getting older.

And 'time' has been anything but my most cruel enemy.

It's Time

It's time to end these never ending lies,

that keep going round and round in circles.

Passed around with pointless motifs.

Tossed around with no real aim and substance.

They corrupt the mind and taint it,

with a figment of the truth.

It's time to be the better person,

and let everything go.

The truth may never prevail.

But is it worth uncovering it,

at the expense of friendship?

It's time to forgive.

It's time to forget.

It's time to move on.

Time will eventually catch up with the real criminal.

Throwing Out The Dirty Laundry

Everything came out it in the wash after all.

And you turned out to be the most sincere.

I'm thankful for your honesty.

I'm glad I still have your friendship.

And it's just such a great relief.

Blackbird

...fly. Into the light of the dark black night.

*** ***

"At some point, you have to make a decision..." Dr Meredith Grey

***

I'm flaying around in this abyss. Trapped in the darkness with no source of light.

A paper, I have clutched in my hand. But unable to see even the shadow of my surroundings, how am I to read?

A flicker is all I need. A flicker to give me a glimmer of hope. A silver lining.

And then I see it. In the corner of my eye. A sparkle. Though dim, but suffice.

The words on the paper, faintly visible but yet readable.

Two roads diverged in in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

***

In truth, the only regret of leaving the possibility of the road not chosen behind is not being able to complete the journey of the one chosen.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, I do not wish to travel both.

So which do I take?

p/s: 'The Road Not Taken' by Robert Frost; one of my favourite poems.

People Always Choose

...cause they're given choices.

***

People will choose when to love you.

People will choose when to hate you.

People will choose when to appreciate you.

People will choose when to disregard you.

People will choose when to be your friend.

People will choose when to be your foe.

People will choose when to call you.

People will choose when to ignore you.

People will choose when to walk into your life.

People will choose when to walk out of it.

***

Cheers to 'you', you fickle minded ass****. YOU dramatise my life.

Thank you.