Battle wounds

Not a wide range of scars, no bruise nor broken bone. No deformity, no disability, nothing.

Just a couple of very stiff shoulders.

Remind me to go for a massage at least once during the long holiday ahead.

Well,

that's probably the "manliest" pep talk I've ever gotten. It'll be interesting to process it more thoroughly later.

Alright, back to work.

So...

I, Aurelia, have a phone called Lumia, in which a personal assistant codenamed Cortana resides.

If you know me from a certain personal angle, you'll know what is incredibly bizarre and slightly creepy about that fact. Personally, I still haven't recovered from the sheer shock of it.

I am literally shedding tears

Fourth. Freaking fourth time this happens. And I've grown so attached to that one, too. For such a silly, like, really silly thing, it devastates me so much.

I can't blame anyone for this, of course, how can one prove pseudo-science? But really, four times? One more 'coincidence' and I'd explode.

I'm just writing an.. almost-diary. It shouldn't be that prophetic. For one, I don't want to die before thirty.

Ay. I wish that product to be as clever and capable as... (sigh) its namesake. For I'm not changing this one. Not. This one.

On Light

At times like this I couldn't help but to think, that I really to scream at those people. Oh yes, I really do. Those who tempted me with promises of reliability and company, those ones that opened the locks. Where are those friends when you actually need them?

Busy with their own things, surely. Everyone got their own set of problems and issues. Their circles of misfortunes, their swirling thoughts and their mood swings. The rain outside their windows. The mountain of tasks. The aliens under their beds. The holes in their walls. The dirt under their shoes.

Don't be too involved. You're kind, but kindness can bind you. said one of my more practical seniors, a few years back. Times and times again I want to prove her wrong. I want to show her that I need not to pick up the mask of apathy. Alas, things can still go wrong, I am far from being infallible and the world isn't that forgiving after all.

The little hope is flickering, but still I don't want it to die. If anything else fails to be reliable, I would fill that gap myself. Light that fire.

Nothing much I can do - not with the painful reminder of distance staring right into my eyes. Nothing, except to offer my sincere prayers and wishes. For them to pass these ordeals and recover quickly.  Nothing much, except to stay alright. Fight the internal battles to fight. Run around, practice the crafts, trade blows when they are due. Do what must be done and do it well. Right the wrongs. One thing at a time.

Ultimately, I want to be that person that stays. The one that they could actually find and talk to should they ever wish to. The one that they can leave alone and still be as alright as a well forged blade. The one that doesn't run away. The one who accepts. The one who forgives, even when the world around her doesn't revolve around the concept of forgiveness and warmth.

The world can just anyhow be gloom and dark, because it is in the night when candles shine the brightest. I won't be alone - because those people who I mentioned before, they are good people. They will return when the time is right. We will meet beyond these sand dunes and I'll have tons of stories to tell them.

This is what I talk about when I talk about believing in others. I got a powerful Lord telling me not to be afraid anyway.

And so, this is my answer. Your move.

A prayer

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is discord, unity;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is error, truth;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

~prayer of Saint Francis

I've lost count of how many times this humble prayer has pulled me out of despair, lifted me from sorrow and brought me to tears of shame all the same. Found it somewhere in a local prayer book back in primary school and it has been with me since.

Falling Rocket

I don't understand. This colour study makes me feel more emotional than it probably should. 

And it's not even done.