Tasteless

An evocative dream. A deja vu the day after.

A thin layer of bright yet calm ice on the surface. A rage of whirlpool and tides below.

A distracted focus. A bottom line on which everything would be pulled down if vigilance is ever dropped.

A shadow to hide under. A freedom that I dare not to touch.

A ball of frustration. A layer of sadness that fill the gaps as well. Above them, a lingering pang of cancerous worry.

Still, I don't think it's my turn to sigh, let alone rest. Yet.

I like playing with words

depends on the interpretation, even simple words can make a conversation.. obscured.

It's like drawing. Or taking pictures. Or listening to songs.

You can paint with bright and vivid colours, but the drawing can still depict a tragedy. You can take a picture of flowers and sky, but the photo can still represent loneliness. You can humming a cheerful tune, but the lyric can still be expressing pain and desperation.

But the thing with arts is, not everyone would notice it. It's not even close to surprising if no one would notice the subtle hints hidden between the lines, in the slight change of hue or inside the poetic "nonsense".

When applied to daily use of words, I think, to some extent, that is how one would filter listeners or readers based on how much care and thoughts they put in processing one's words. Indeed, they can talk about the skills of language. But still I think that the arts is just out of that kind of worlds. Educated people can have all the certs to boast, but there is no denying the emptiness of feelings.

I haven't even mentioned about the manipulations of expressions, you see. Communication is as different to interaction as seeing to observing, talking to speaking and hearing to listening.

Time is teaching me

..on how to set up an "interesting" timeline of events.

And anyone who assumes I like it would get a black eye. Free of charge.

Up until now, I felt nothing

but when the wolf decided to leap off the cliff, there's no helping it.

A bit late, maybe. It feels like I've failed to do something I can't even remember. These past days just passed by like nothing's happening. Time goes on whether I am alive or the otherwise.

In the end, I am just a fool. A fool who doesn't know her place, who allows herself to be blinded by the imaginary lights of virtues, but in reality, is as vain as sands inside a few nightmares.

I allowed the future to chase me while the past was still rushing forward to tangle me. Maybe I was being a bit arrogant. I thought I could stand them. I thought I could think, at least a bit more than before. Turns out, I am weaker than I thought. When I peeked inside, everything was in the wrong place. Simply pathetic.

Sigh... it's humiliating to be weak.

Lethargy was killing me and boredom was choking me

I needed to do something, other than studying. Simply put, I was bored. I used to like this window sill. Well, I still do, but it's just that I wasn't built with a lasting standby mode. I wanted to do something. Sports, maybe. But well, I perfectly knew I wasn't in the condition to do so.

Then I saw the door slowly creaked open by itself. I didn't see anybody opening it though, but I never forget to look down. And there she was, wiggling her furry small body in was my pet dog and sole companion.

Did you feel the same thing as I did, little one? <3

not feeling good..

erased like a one-fifth of my question marks.

shut half of the door.

walked away.

closed my eyes.

yet the dizziness still persisted. :/

Sometimes I don't get it myself. It's like burying a gaping hole that would just suck everything like a black hole out there. Well, at some points its convenient - to dump things like excess feelings and other things I fear - but yet it's confusing still. How should I stitch it? How big of a cloth to cover it? What is the shape of a puzzle piece to fit it?

lastly, what am I rambling about in the first place?

Complacency

I've been observing myself for these few days.

Small gestures that I made, spontaneous thoughts that I came up with, my living patterns, my reactions, basically the same basic observation points.

It's not like I haven't been aware of it. Instead, it's almost like a foresight.

Is it a good thing that I am like this? Or is it bad? Am I really heading towards something that I can be excited about or just another nothingness to distract this restless mind? This thing called 'self-esteem' and 'identity', just what are they, really?

"We never know the future." "Every steps, whichever memories they are carrying, are just steps and nothing more." Again, words of 'wisdom' that are more like facts to urge me to take it easy and simply don't mind about this kind of things, moreover so if this would just concern myself and nobody else. Simply unimportant, isn't it? The more I think of it, the more question marks I would end up having. Utterly confusing. If a simple topic about a self is this complicated, I wouldn't dare to process any part of human relationships. (sigh) I guess the hardest room to organize is always, indeed, your own.

Now I don't know how much I'm being a hypocrite in mentioning an orbital cycle in this post. Another dilemma whether I should or should not go. Based on past experience, I would be having regret in not going, but.. Hm..

Life is amusing yet confusing at the same time, ya?

"Stop the time"

The last few days were unpredictable. That much I can say. The feeling of desperation, of scornfulness, of sadness that followed. Those were the kinds of days when your ability to find beautiful sparkles in the desert is tested. How much can one bend without break? How many blessing can you spot and hold dear? How much other people can influence you, in both ways? It was a truly humbling experience.

Going a quarter way past that, I had another random dream this morning (yes, i slept at dawn, again..).
What if time stops?

As of now, even with such events like the last week one, actually my life is quite ok.
My basic necessities are met (shelter, food, clothings). My education is ok (minus the burden to secure it). Nowadays I even learn how to manage my economic outcome, too - at least I don't fall into the red occasionally. My physical needs are somehow met, most of the time. I got a few hobbies to do in my leisure time, and resources are relatively easy to find.

I (think I) have friends - people that I can trust, both near and far. They are kind and helpful at times. Even for those who are relatively far by distance, most of the time they would join me in the virtual chat space, sometimes with a single email or sms, and most of the time without. What more, some of them even took the painstaking way to convince me that they are truly happy to do so. They are kind like that, too kind even, I think. I got my chances to speak. I got more chances to listen. I got my chances to help, even. I can be engaged in the sharing of ideas, many kinds of ideas - something that I really enjoy doing.

Building a mind is like designing an art piece at best - be it in form of any senses' pleasure, and I certainly like the assortments of tunes, colours and textures to broaden my choices and favourite lists, to better this piece as much as I can, though I got my own limitations, too, of course.

I am happy. I think- or I feel, I can say so. A bit simpleton on my side, maybe, but I personally don't think that we need to be at the top of the so called "pinnacle of rat race" to say such thing.

It feels quite nice knowing that. That was what came to my half-asleep mind this morning. That wonderful feeling, is what gave me another one of the most scariest thoughts:

"It's nice. It's comfortable. I want to stay still in this kind world. Stop the time.

Nevertheless, in the end I would still be witnessing the fleeing, fine grains of sand escaping my grasps, no matter how tight I hold on onto it. It would not stay still and obey anyone but its own natures, time does have the freedom of strays that I adore.

..and then, I woke up, twenty minutes late than the time I set for my biological clock.