Sunday, February 26, 2006
Back from my pissy self.
Listening to Namida 3000. Strangely, it always makes me feel poignant.
What can I say? It's a strange little world, being me.
Read some H/M fics. It was good. I still have to go through hamena.org to finish reading all those fics.
Yulia, Elise, Kassandra, Selene and Lukia. I love them all.
Poor Matt. Poor Miranda. Pity the Black Hawks.
Tommy, who never grew up. Lia will take care of you.
There's Sokov, who has seen so many die before him.
And then there's her. My poor, unnamed angel. Still sleeping. It's almost time for you to wake up.
Although it would have been better if you never did.
David. Please care for my angel. Until Matt comes looking. Please take care of her.
Keith. Little Keith. You and your big brother will be with her too, won't you?
John. Kelly. Fred. Peter. Sandra. Michael. Gabriel. Remember one of your own. Will you save her...or kill her?
Pity to Paul who died.
You let her go before. Now less than half are left. Are you still a team or have you broken apart?
John. Remember how she was beaten? How you came to her aid? She was one of your own. Don't you take care of your own?
But then, how many have died under your command?
That alone, I guess, is punishment enough.
Little Matthew. You lost someone more important to you than life. Now that she's back, will you accept her again? Or kill her for the way she has ruined your life? You can't even look at another woman without remembering her, can you? The way you scream out her name when you're screwing another girl. The utter mortification that happens after that. Pain, love and shame.
My little angel. So different now. Yet the more you change, the more you stay the same. You were never one of them, were you? You can never be part of anything. Not now, not ever. Always different. God made you different. Man made the differences bigger.
You're not even human anymore. You're more and less of one. Different. Yet oh so human in your weakness. You will not remember, simply because you don't want to.
They're still so young. All of them. They're just kids, the Hydras. Just kids. So innocent. Innocent killers, each and every one of them. Stained in blood as they are, yet more innocent than a newborn lamb. Can't you see the spark in their eyes?
We are all like children. Matt, who cannot let go. Mira, who cannot let herself love. Jake, whose loyalty will kill him. Lia, who loves where she cannot. Sokov, who will not let himself love. Selene, who will scream out in hate and agony forever. Lukia, who will forever be separated from the one she loves. Kassandra, who will steep in the guilt she wrought with her own two hands. Elise, who is haunted by her dreams and hunted by her own shadows. Yulia, who is afraid of letting others in.
David, the one you love will never know. Keith, you won't ever live to see the new world. Kevin, your parents never really forgave you, did they?
John, the fearless leader. How many have you sent to their graves? Can you forget them?
Kelly, speed demon. You can't run from yourself forever.
Fred, fighter to the last. Can you fight everyone, including yourself?
Peter, always so quiet. You never forgave yourself for letting go of your brother's hand, did you?
Sandra, quick to anger. Yet you were the first to forgive. Can you still love her after all these years?
Michael, repressed emotions. You hated being second best, didn't you?
Gabriel, voice of reason. Yet you were the one who condemned her first. How can you face her now, after all you have said and done?
Covered in the sins of the past. We cannot run from who we are. My little angel. You saw the stars with Ralf in the end, didn't you? Side by side, under a crimson sky. He taught you to reach for the skies. But you had to leave him behind. Had to. Because he couldn't come. Too weak. Only you were left in the end. Because they were all too weak.
These chains that bind us together. Lover, enemy, friend and foe. The more we struggle, the tighter these chains do bind. Behind the web the master cries.
I cry, for what I've done to all of them. For what I'm going to do to all of them. They don't deserve what they get. They should have had better. But I denied it to them.
Will they hate me? Possibly. No, they will hate me.
Because knowing what I did, I could have saved them. But I didn't.
Time will tell. In the end, time will always tell.
They were right. Watching was the hardest thing to do. So near, yet so far. Could have done something, but never did. Never could.
I watch. Watched them all.
Perhaps one day, I can forgive me. But I can't. Not now. Maybe never. Who knows?
Time will tell in the end.
]
Listening to Namida 3000. Strangely, it always makes me feel poignant.
What can I say? It's a strange little world, being me.
Read some H/M fics. It was good. I still have to go through hamena.org to finish reading all those fics.
Yulia, Elise, Kassandra, Selene and Lukia. I love them all.
Poor Matt. Poor Miranda. Pity the Black Hawks.
Tommy, who never grew up. Lia will take care of you.
There's Sokov, who has seen so many die before him.
And then there's her. My poor, unnamed angel. Still sleeping. It's almost time for you to wake up.
Although it would have been better if you never did.
David. Please care for my angel. Until Matt comes looking. Please take care of her.
Keith. Little Keith. You and your big brother will be with her too, won't you?
John. Kelly. Fred. Peter. Sandra. Michael. Gabriel. Remember one of your own. Will you save her...or kill her?
Pity to Paul who died.
You let her go before. Now less than half are left. Are you still a team or have you broken apart?
John. Remember how she was beaten? How you came to her aid? She was one of your own. Don't you take care of your own?
But then, how many have died under your command?
That alone, I guess, is punishment enough.
Little Matthew. You lost someone more important to you than life. Now that she's back, will you accept her again? Or kill her for the way she has ruined your life? You can't even look at another woman without remembering her, can you? The way you scream out her name when you're screwing another girl. The utter mortification that happens after that. Pain, love and shame.
My little angel. So different now. Yet the more you change, the more you stay the same. You were never one of them, were you? You can never be part of anything. Not now, not ever. Always different. God made you different. Man made the differences bigger.
You're not even human anymore. You're more and less of one. Different. Yet oh so human in your weakness. You will not remember, simply because you don't want to.
They're still so young. All of them. They're just kids, the Hydras. Just kids. So innocent. Innocent killers, each and every one of them. Stained in blood as they are, yet more innocent than a newborn lamb. Can't you see the spark in their eyes?
We are all like children. Matt, who cannot let go. Mira, who cannot let herself love. Jake, whose loyalty will kill him. Lia, who loves where she cannot. Sokov, who will not let himself love. Selene, who will scream out in hate and agony forever. Lukia, who will forever be separated from the one she loves. Kassandra, who will steep in the guilt she wrought with her own two hands. Elise, who is haunted by her dreams and hunted by her own shadows. Yulia, who is afraid of letting others in.
David, the one you love will never know. Keith, you won't ever live to see the new world. Kevin, your parents never really forgave you, did they?
John, the fearless leader. How many have you sent to their graves? Can you forget them?
Kelly, speed demon. You can't run from yourself forever.
Fred, fighter to the last. Can you fight everyone, including yourself?
Peter, always so quiet. You never forgave yourself for letting go of your brother's hand, did you?
Sandra, quick to anger. Yet you were the first to forgive. Can you still love her after all these years?
Michael, repressed emotions. You hated being second best, didn't you?
Gabriel, voice of reason. Yet you were the one who condemned her first. How can you face her now, after all you have said and done?
Covered in the sins of the past. We cannot run from who we are. My little angel. You saw the stars with Ralf in the end, didn't you? Side by side, under a crimson sky. He taught you to reach for the skies. But you had to leave him behind. Had to. Because he couldn't come. Too weak. Only you were left in the end. Because they were all too weak.
These chains that bind us together. Lover, enemy, friend and foe. The more we struggle, the tighter these chains do bind. Behind the web the master cries.
I cry, for what I've done to all of them. For what I'm going to do to all of them. They don't deserve what they get. They should have had better. But I denied it to them.
Will they hate me? Possibly. No, they will hate me.
Because knowing what I did, I could have saved them. But I didn't.
Time will tell. In the end, time will always tell.
They were right. Watching was the hardest thing to do. So near, yet so far. Could have done something, but never did. Never could.
I watch. Watched them all.
Perhaps one day, I can forgive me. But I can't. Not now. Maybe never. Who knows?
Time will tell in the end.
I like your hands.
So Michiru said to Haruka. I wish I had someone to say it to me as sincerely as the aqua goddess did to her sky king.
Haiz. Been writing my own original fiction. It has signs of "epic" written all over it, given the enormous amount of backstory to it, as well as all the potential one-shots spinning off from it.
I can barely bring myself to hurt the Hydras. I think I can probably write a spinoff series on them, cos I love them so much now. Haiz.
But in the name of the plot, I have to hurt my characters. Kinda like what I wrote in my poem Lamentations. It's a tough life being a writer.
I don't deny it anymore. I am a writer. I do not want to become one. I am one. Poetry flows off me like second nature, especially when I'm in a mood. I can even be poetic in Chinese, and that's an accomplishment, considering my command of that language is only at half-mast. Or at least, my idea of half-mast. Standards and all, you see.
Grace mentioned before how I loved the language. English that is. I savour the words like fine wine. I love playing around with language, because I adore how I can weave magic with them.
Yet I concede that words are a paltry medium for communication. Music is far more expressive, and the nature of it is such that it transcends language and time.
Same with visual arts. Language is so pitifully inadequate in comparison.
Yet I love it anyway. Largely because I can't do music or draw/paint very well. If I could, I would paint the pictures in my head with actual colours, not with puny words.
But I have no talent in that area, and have to settle for something less.
Vivid images swirl in my head all the time. Pain, anger and shame. Joy and elation. Darkness and light.
I try and try, but it never goes away. People have asked me how I manage to describe certain things in my story so vividly. That's because it's always there in my head. Because I am there within the recreated mindscapes. I'm there within the scenes, yet not there at the same time.
Being a writer means exposing oneself to a variety of emotions. It leaves us vulnerable. It's the only state of vulnerability that I allow myself to have.
Forget it. Forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore. What does it matter to everyone? It doesn't. It doesn't. Never mind.
We, who cannot love, yet we do.
We, who should not live, yet we are.
We, who seek to live, yet we can't.
For we are forever bound by the chains of duty.
--Dedicated to the Hydras--
Note from this author: I am so sorry. For I can do nothing. Although you cannot hear me, please forgive....
]
So Michiru said to Haruka. I wish I had someone to say it to me as sincerely as the aqua goddess did to her sky king.
Haiz. Been writing my own original fiction. It has signs of "epic" written all over it, given the enormous amount of backstory to it, as well as all the potential one-shots spinning off from it.
I can barely bring myself to hurt the Hydras. I think I can probably write a spinoff series on them, cos I love them so much now. Haiz.
But in the name of the plot, I have to hurt my characters. Kinda like what I wrote in my poem Lamentations. It's a tough life being a writer.
I don't deny it anymore. I am a writer. I do not want to become one. I am one. Poetry flows off me like second nature, especially when I'm in a mood. I can even be poetic in Chinese, and that's an accomplishment, considering my command of that language is only at half-mast. Or at least, my idea of half-mast. Standards and all, you see.
Grace mentioned before how I loved the language. English that is. I savour the words like fine wine. I love playing around with language, because I adore how I can weave magic with them.
Yet I concede that words are a paltry medium for communication. Music is far more expressive, and the nature of it is such that it transcends language and time.
Same with visual arts. Language is so pitifully inadequate in comparison.
Yet I love it anyway. Largely because I can't do music or draw/paint very well. If I could, I would paint the pictures in my head with actual colours, not with puny words.
But I have no talent in that area, and have to settle for something less.
Vivid images swirl in my head all the time. Pain, anger and shame. Joy and elation. Darkness and light.
I try and try, but it never goes away. People have asked me how I manage to describe certain things in my story so vividly. That's because it's always there in my head. Because I am there within the recreated mindscapes. I'm there within the scenes, yet not there at the same time.
Being a writer means exposing oneself to a variety of emotions. It leaves us vulnerable. It's the only state of vulnerability that I allow myself to have.
Forget it. Forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore. What does it matter to everyone? It doesn't. It doesn't. Never mind.
We, who cannot love, yet we do.
We, who should not live, yet we are.
We, who seek to live, yet we can't.
For we are forever bound by the chains of duty.
--Dedicated to the Hydras--
Note from this author: I am so sorry. For I can do nothing. Although you cannot hear me, please forgive....
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Well hi everyone.
I'm in a strange mood now.
Wouldn't say that I'm depressed or angsty or any other random negative emotion. But I'm not happy or any other positive emotion either. Just kinda...there.
Been thinking about random things...quite randomly. I'm no longer sure what I'm even thinking about, or that I'm even thinking.
It's a strange thing to behold.
Ok I shoul stop here. I'm not even sure what I'm doing. Ugh.
]
I'm in a strange mood now.
Wouldn't say that I'm depressed or angsty or any other random negative emotion. But I'm not happy or any other positive emotion either. Just kinda...there.
Been thinking about random things...quite randomly. I'm no longer sure what I'm even thinking about, or that I'm even thinking.
It's a strange thing to behold.
Ok I shoul stop here. I'm not even sure what I'm doing. Ugh.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Grace, I blog ok! You are the one who doesn't blog for ages lor!
Ok not sure why I'm blogging but yeah.
When someone mistakes you for a guy on the streets, how do you think you should react?
Especially when I'm a girl.
Haiz.
And its not only an isolated incident.
I got mistaken for a guy by an old lady at a bus stop. I can forgive that, because I was kinda hunched over while sitting down and I was wearing a baggy t-shirt. I guess from that angle I do kind of look like a guy. Augh. I was torn between an absurd sort of pride and feeling a sense of indignation. Contrary to popular belief, I do not want to be a guy. Yes, being a guy is easier at times (especially at the time of the month when everything somehow goes wrong all at the same time), but I'm perfectly fine with being female most of the time.
And then there was that other time at Tiong Bahru Plaza when I was browsing through a shop, and then the salesgirl took me for a guy. AGAIN. Like whatever. I just kept my mouth shut. Doh.
grace says haha. do you want perfume for your birthday?start saving money for a SKIRT spree at the end of the year. stop gasping dear. you know it's good for health haha
No. No no no no no no no no no no no no no.
stop trying to convince yourself ( or your readers) you don't want it. haha i know you want it. in the deep recesses of your heart STOP SIGHING! hahahaha. i feel like chaos. i think he's gone on vacation and i'm taking his place. haha
Difference is, Chaos would never make me wear a skirt. You evil minion! Strange as it seems I think I miss the annoying git right now.
Haiz. Grace can be a menace sometimes. Augh.
sorry to interrupt but i'm not exactly chaos. i'm like.. his sister. haha
Two of them?? TWO of them?????!!!! *goes crazy*
Can die lah! One is bad enough already! *fends Grace off the keyboard* Stop it!!!
just so you know, there was a minor scuffle inbetween the words 'one' and 'is'. haha. what's wrong with wearing a skirt? the school one is so ugly please! hahaah you must get out, EXPERIENCE LIFE! hahahahaha
How did wearing a skirt become a means to 'experience life'???? That is one of the most illogical things I've ever heard in my entire life. *glare*
that coz.. *drumroll* you haven't experienced life FULLY! in a SKIRT! how can life be enjoyable if you go through them in pants? you said you wore skirts when you're younger, now wouldn't you agree that those were such happy times? MY POINT. haha. WHO CARES ABOUT RUNNING.
But I hate running up the stairs in a skirt!!! Its terrible lah! I feel so weird and exposed and everything. I hate being vulnerable like that. Nyah!!!
Anyway this argument is becoming really weird. Grace! Don't you have anything else to do???
not really.
Darn. I was hoping to get her off my back.
wait till chaos come back.
Oh noooooooooo! I will be doubleteamed to death! AHHHHHHH!!!!!! *screams fade off*
good thing the scream fades off. the librarian would have chased you off anyway. hahah. maybe the librarian is my triplet. i'm not sure. ahahah i could just make out a slight yet distinct resemblance. haha
*bangs head against hard surface* Somebody just kill me now.
]
Ok not sure why I'm blogging but yeah.
When someone mistakes you for a guy on the streets, how do you think you should react?
Especially when I'm a girl.
Haiz.
And its not only an isolated incident.
I got mistaken for a guy by an old lady at a bus stop. I can forgive that, because I was kinda hunched over while sitting down and I was wearing a baggy t-shirt. I guess from that angle I do kind of look like a guy. Augh. I was torn between an absurd sort of pride and feeling a sense of indignation. Contrary to popular belief, I do not want to be a guy. Yes, being a guy is easier at times (especially at the time of the month when everything somehow goes wrong all at the same time), but I'm perfectly fine with being female most of the time.
And then there was that other time at Tiong Bahru Plaza when I was browsing through a shop, and then the salesgirl took me for a guy. AGAIN. Like whatever. I just kept my mouth shut. Doh.
grace says haha. do you want perfume for your birthday?start saving money for a SKIRT spree at the end of the year. stop gasping dear. you know it's good for health haha
No. No no no no no no no no no no no no no.
stop trying to convince yourself ( or your readers) you don't want it. haha i know you want it. in the deep recesses of your heart STOP SIGHING! hahahaha. i feel like chaos. i think he's gone on vacation and i'm taking his place. haha
Difference is, Chaos would never make me wear a skirt. You evil minion! Strange as it seems I think I miss the annoying git right now.
Haiz. Grace can be a menace sometimes. Augh.
sorry to interrupt but i'm not exactly chaos. i'm like.. his sister. haha
Two of them?? TWO of them?????!!!! *goes crazy*
Can die lah! One is bad enough already! *fends Grace off the keyboard* Stop it!!!
just so you know, there was a minor scuffle inbetween the words 'one' and 'is'. haha. what's wrong with wearing a skirt? the school one is so ugly please! hahaah you must get out, EXPERIENCE LIFE! hahahahaha
How did wearing a skirt become a means to 'experience life'???? That is one of the most illogical things I've ever heard in my entire life. *glare*
that coz.. *drumroll* you haven't experienced life FULLY! in a SKIRT! how can life be enjoyable if you go through them in pants? you said you wore skirts when you're younger, now wouldn't you agree that those were such happy times? MY POINT. haha. WHO CARES ABOUT RUNNING.
But I hate running up the stairs in a skirt!!! Its terrible lah! I feel so weird and exposed and everything. I hate being vulnerable like that. Nyah!!!
Anyway this argument is becoming really weird. Grace! Don't you have anything else to do???
not really.
Darn. I was hoping to get her off my back.
wait till chaos come back.
Oh noooooooooo! I will be doubleteamed to death! AHHHHHHH!!!!!! *screams fade off*
good thing the scream fades off. the librarian would have chased you off anyway. hahah. maybe the librarian is my triplet. i'm not sure. ahahah i could just make out a slight yet distinct resemblance. haha
*bangs head against hard surface* Somebody just kill me now.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Hmm.
I like my last post. Ever heard of mindscapes? Those scenes were mine. Some of them anyway.
Anyway, in case nobody caught on to the "lame" reference which I swore never to use again in the last post, it came from Sailor Moon. Where else?
Actually it was an Usagi/Mamoru moment. The first time they met was when Usagi's failing test score (30/100) paper hit Mamoru on the head. So yeah, it really was a lame reference. Those two were destined for each other even before the stupid paper hit Mamoru on the head.
Anyway, lame references aside, I discovered a nice translator site that helped me find out my new favorite nickname.
風のチェーサー
That means Wind Chaser. I like it cause I'm such a Haruka fan.
私は風のように走りたいと思う. I want to run like the wind.
Hope these are correct. Oh well. I can always ask Kanai to check them over and see if its right.
I'm a sad, sad individual. So...feeble.
Don't ask where that line came from. I have no idea either.
運命のカップル
Forgive me for randomly inserting japanese phrases in. Just thought it would be fun. I'm just having fun. Sort of.
Oh and that last phrase meant Destined Couple. Who else do you think it could be?
Fluff is surprisingly refreshing.
Ok I guess I gotta go now. Might come back later. Maybe.
After all, who really knows?
Quote:
ちょうど私が愛するかどの位決して知らない
--From a Valentine's Day poem I wrote for a special someone
]
I like my last post. Ever heard of mindscapes? Those scenes were mine. Some of them anyway.
Anyway, in case nobody caught on to the "lame" reference which I swore never to use again in the last post, it came from Sailor Moon. Where else?
Actually it was an Usagi/Mamoru moment. The first time they met was when Usagi's failing test score (30/100) paper hit Mamoru on the head. So yeah, it really was a lame reference. Those two were destined for each other even before the stupid paper hit Mamoru on the head.
Anyway, lame references aside, I discovered a nice translator site that helped me find out my new favorite nickname.
風のチェーサー
That means Wind Chaser. I like it cause I'm such a Haruka fan.
私は風のように走りたいと思う. I want to run like the wind.
Hope these are correct. Oh well. I can always ask Kanai to check them over and see if its right.
I'm a sad, sad individual. So...feeble.
Don't ask where that line came from. I have no idea either.
運命のカップル
Forgive me for randomly inserting japanese phrases in. Just thought it would be fun. I'm just having fun. Sort of.
Oh and that last phrase meant Destined Couple. Who else do you think it could be?
Fluff is surprisingly refreshing.
Ok I guess I gotta go now. Might come back later. Maybe.
After all, who really knows?
Quote:
ちょうど私が愛するかどの位決して知らない
--From a Valentine's Day poem I wrote for a special someone
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Ever felt so attuned to someone that even though that person's a few hundred miles away, you can still feel what they're feeling?
Nope? Well, too bad for you.
Some weird psychic thingy. Was what Kanai said. Well, she got that right.
How the heck does she read me like an open book?
Damnit.
No offense to you Kanai. Just a comment at my obviousness.
Sometimes I don't want to think. But I can't help it.
I want to run away from my problems. Run away and never look back. Like I used to. Like I did before. Like all those sad bad mad times.
I want to be like the wind. To keep moving, chasing something. To flow like an unstoppable force, always onward. Never looking back.
Somewhere along the way I stopped running. Somewhere along the way I stopped denying.
I turned and stopped. Watched the tide come, tsunami-like, towering like a great blanket, ready to submerge me under. And I just stood there.
It came. The force of it hit me, worse than any hurricane. It tore me off my feet and swept me away, graet waves battering at my body. Born aloft by the aqua tides, only to be swallowed into the mouth of a blue monster only moments later.
Bleeding. I held up a feeble hand, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything.
I didn't find it.
Weak hands. Pale, soft, fragile. Broken and bruised. Bloodied hands.
How could anyone bear to hold such a hand?
When the wind meets the sea, I'll be sailing. That's the nice way to put it.
When my wind met the sea, I ended up with a hurricane.
It tore into everything. Me, myself, and all those around me. An unstoppable, indestructable force. Wrecking, smashing, destroying.
I wanted to run. Too late for regrets. Washed up. Broken, beaten, a bloodied and bruised lump.
Floating on the ocean, I see the sky. So beautiful. Yet so very far away. Too far away.
I can't reach the sky. I can't even touch the sky in my heart.
So near, yet so far away. A clear glass, harder than any steel, encased around that cold hard place.
A nice person. A kind person. Someone who smiles. Who brings joy.
A bad person. An evil person. Someone who smirks. Who brings pain.
Torn between two identities. I can't tell who is who anymore.
Maybe they're both the same.
I am you and you are me. One and the same. Dark and light, different sides of the same reality.
Bloody hands. I can see them. Tainted, corrupted.
Who can love one such as that?
How can one reconcile two sides so radically different? How can you get rid of one without forever tearing apart that person?
Incomplete. There would always be something missing. As if something weren't missing already.
A sharp nail running down my cheek. Cold first, then hot. A warm, wet heat, stinging and burning, wending its way down that imperfect face.
I did not weep. Not at my mother's funeral. I ran and played and laughed.
Anger raised in sudden silence. A momentary heat, followed by an intense burning cold.
Frozen inside. No, that's not true.
I could smile, laugh, run and play. I could joke, grin, and have fun.
Never given up running, have you? I chuckle, perhaps not.
I wasn't dead on the inside. Yes, I sometimes feel that way. But only sometimes. Some wonderfully painful times.
I could cry and be sad. I could hate and be angry. I could......not love.
Not dead. Not cold either.
Just a lost, lonely individual. Walking silently in a rose garden.
The paths are small and narrow. They press up against me, thorns seeking and finding pallid flesh.
I keep walking. There's nothing else to do. Just keep walking. Eventually, the path opens up.
It always does. This was a labyrinth. A labyrinth of my own fashioning.
Beautiful, isn't it? High hedges, reaching almost to the blue sky I longed to touch. An illusion, the sky remained aloof and distant as ever.
I keep walking. A beautiful maze indeed. I could walk for an eternity, and never find what I seek. Provided what I seek is within the maze. Which it isn't.
I can't find my way out. Not that I really want to.
Whatever I was looking for, it would either have to find me, or it could just drop in on my head like a failing test score.
And that was such a bad reference that I would never want to ever use again.
So I keep walking. It never looks the same. The hedges change and merge, creating new patterns. New patterns only to my delusional mind, I expect.
And by this time I'm really sick of my maze analogy, so I just snap my fingers, and poof, no more boring maze.
Part of the fun of wandering in your own mind is that you can change the backdrop anytime you want.
I'm no longer walking. Feet hurt from all the stones grazing against my soles. Knew I should have put carpet grass in that maze. Oh well.
Under a tree. Not sure what type of tree. I'm no botanist.
But it's a big tree. Wide branches heavy with evergreen leaves. The grass is long, and I run my hand over their tips, feeling them shyly tickle my palm.
The bark is rough, but not ripped and wounded. I lean against the cool bark, letting myself slide down into a sitting position under the shade.
The wind dances around me, murmuring gently and caressing my hair and skin like a lover would. I close my eyes and relax into a trance-like state. My very own favorite place on the cliff.
A cliff? Yes, a cliff.
For not far from that large, unnamed tree, just ten or more steps from where I'm sitting, was the edge of a cliff.
It was a sharp drop. The end was abrupt, the drop would be quite sudden. Below it lay an expanse of ocean blue. It stretched out far into the horizon, seemingly without end.
No end, no beginning. The sky was all one piece. We all stare at the same sky, no matter where we are.
It was a peaceful place. But I could not stay. Something in my soul stirred, like a wild stallion rearing against the foreign touch of a halter and headcollar.
Sighing with some regret, I snapped my fingers again.
This time, a sand-blasted wasteland. I frown. Did this really have to be next on the list?
Under a blood red sky. The sun, if it could still be called a sun, glowed with sickly radiance, more show than substance. The rays that did touch the land were weak, and did not bring warmth.
Standing tall on another cliff, rough red stone beneath unshod feet. The cracked and parched land gaped open like a dying man in a desert, desperate for nourishment.
Nothing grew there. In that blood-drenched field, only death reigned in all its eternal glory.
Silent as the grave. No sound was heard in that neverending red landscape. No sound, save that of my own heart beating. Slowly, deliberately, almost taunting and mocking in its steady cadence.
Pieces of a broken blade lay not far from my feet. I did not look at them. Didn't have to. Every inch of that accursed thing was imprinted more deeply in my mind than any red-hot brand could onto fresh new skin.
The sickening stench of charred flesh and tortured screams emerged at that new analogy. I pushed them back into that iron prison where all nightmares were stored in the vault of the immortal soul.
My hands were folded behind my back. I did not look at them. I knew how they would appear in this land of battles fought and lives ended.
I smelled an old, familiar scent in the heavy air of this place. It was coming again. The rain that the land craved and abhorred, all at the same time.
It came. First a drizzle, then an all out downpour. Deceptively warm, and in no way refreshing or liberating.
It sank deep into the red soil, adding its color to the one already there. The dry caked land suddenly seemed awash with the oceans of blood that once flowed across its verdant plains.
I stood immobile. The blood rain would stop soon. And it did. It made no difference. The land needed real nourishment, not a reminder of the sins of its past.
Double-dipped in foulness. That's how I looked. My hair was plastered limply against my face, glued there by the sticky fluid that would dry into a crusty red mask.
A mask over the ones I already wore.
At least, drenched in blood as I was, no one would notice the blood that stained my hands prior to that shower. The blood that stained my hands, the blood that refused to be cleansed, everytime I stepped into this hellhole.
It won't come off! Was what Lady Macbeth said. I've said it before, and have given up saying, or even thinking it.
No matter. Hands still resolutely behind my back, my fingers snapped, a dull wet sound.
Into a cool darkness, almost opaque. The red stains flowed off me like a thousand sins as I submerge myself in that icy liquid.
Rising up, my head broke the mirror smooth surface, sending ripples across that miniature lake.
Quietly, I rose from that dark little pond with nary a sound. The water fled from me back into that quiet little sanctuary.
A silent cave. A dark, silent cave.
It was a wide cave, with a very high ceiling. God knows what I would have done in a cave with a low ceiling. Probably go mad, but that's beside the point.
The true extent of the cave is unknown. Shadows lurking at the edges prevented me from finding out. Not that I needed to find out. All I needed in that cave was what I could find in my immediate distance from that shiny little pond from which I had just emerged.
Bare feet padded quietly across uneven ground, only to stop in front of a mirror. A large mirror. Certainly large enough to contain one such as myself, even at close range.
That damnable mirror. It had repaired itself again.
I stared at the foreign reflection in the looking glass. It was me, yet not me. Not quite.
It only showed half of who I really was after all. Or less actually. Part of me, large or small? Not too sure.
Damnable mirror. I thought I'd ruined it the last time.
Well, I could always do it again.
The sensation of breaking glass against a bare unprotected fist never felt so satisfying. Spider-like cracks threaded across the perfect surface, starting from that center of impact.
I didn't remove my fist, at least not at first. There would be the initial stage of numbness, which would quickly fade into a burning sensation as warm red blood trickled from the cuts and tears on that corpse-like flesh. Staining the perfect mirror. The now not-so perfect mirror.
With a sense of detachment, I removed my fist to properly inspect my handiwork. Not too bad really. There was a deranged kind of symmetry in those hairline cracks. Almost like a work of art, if I didn't know better.
Ironically, it could still show my reflection. Well, a very distorted one. Perfect.
Every little shard showed a different side. A different little me. Cracked and distorted.
Just like the little pieces of me.
A small smirk twitched at the corner of my mouth as I turned away, fist still dripping. That wouldn't last. It never did.
Damnable mirror always repaired itself with every visit.
And I never stopped, I reflected with a grim amusement. I just kept smashing it, only to have the accursed thing magically become whole again later. You would think that I would have given up, but I didn't. Persistence of the worst kind, and under the strangest circumstances.
But I needed that truth, that release. To see the broken shards that so reflected my inner being.
So no matter how many times the mirror becomes whole, I will smash it.
If only to see the truth that lies beneath that mask. If only for a few moments.
Just a few moments more. It never lasts.
It never does, isn't it?
]
Nope? Well, too bad for you.
Some weird psychic thingy. Was what Kanai said. Well, she got that right.
How the heck does she read me like an open book?
Damnit.
No offense to you Kanai. Just a comment at my obviousness.
Sometimes I don't want to think. But I can't help it.
I want to run away from my problems. Run away and never look back. Like I used to. Like I did before. Like all those sad bad mad times.
I want to be like the wind. To keep moving, chasing something. To flow like an unstoppable force, always onward. Never looking back.
Somewhere along the way I stopped running. Somewhere along the way I stopped denying.
I turned and stopped. Watched the tide come, tsunami-like, towering like a great blanket, ready to submerge me under. And I just stood there.
It came. The force of it hit me, worse than any hurricane. It tore me off my feet and swept me away, graet waves battering at my body. Born aloft by the aqua tides, only to be swallowed into the mouth of a blue monster only moments later.
Bleeding. I held up a feeble hand, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything.
I didn't find it.
Weak hands. Pale, soft, fragile. Broken and bruised. Bloodied hands.
How could anyone bear to hold such a hand?
When the wind meets the sea, I'll be sailing. That's the nice way to put it.
When my wind met the sea, I ended up with a hurricane.
It tore into everything. Me, myself, and all those around me. An unstoppable, indestructable force. Wrecking, smashing, destroying.
I wanted to run. Too late for regrets. Washed up. Broken, beaten, a bloodied and bruised lump.
Floating on the ocean, I see the sky. So beautiful. Yet so very far away. Too far away.
I can't reach the sky. I can't even touch the sky in my heart.
So near, yet so far away. A clear glass, harder than any steel, encased around that cold hard place.
A nice person. A kind person. Someone who smiles. Who brings joy.
A bad person. An evil person. Someone who smirks. Who brings pain.
Torn between two identities. I can't tell who is who anymore.
Maybe they're both the same.
I am you and you are me. One and the same. Dark and light, different sides of the same reality.
Bloody hands. I can see them. Tainted, corrupted.
Who can love one such as that?
How can one reconcile two sides so radically different? How can you get rid of one without forever tearing apart that person?
Incomplete. There would always be something missing. As if something weren't missing already.
A sharp nail running down my cheek. Cold first, then hot. A warm, wet heat, stinging and burning, wending its way down that imperfect face.
I did not weep. Not at my mother's funeral. I ran and played and laughed.
Anger raised in sudden silence. A momentary heat, followed by an intense burning cold.
Frozen inside. No, that's not true.
I could smile, laugh, run and play. I could joke, grin, and have fun.
Never given up running, have you? I chuckle, perhaps not.
I wasn't dead on the inside. Yes, I sometimes feel that way. But only sometimes. Some wonderfully painful times.
I could cry and be sad. I could hate and be angry. I could......not love.
Not dead. Not cold either.
Just a lost, lonely individual. Walking silently in a rose garden.
The paths are small and narrow. They press up against me, thorns seeking and finding pallid flesh.
I keep walking. There's nothing else to do. Just keep walking. Eventually, the path opens up.
It always does. This was a labyrinth. A labyrinth of my own fashioning.
Beautiful, isn't it? High hedges, reaching almost to the blue sky I longed to touch. An illusion, the sky remained aloof and distant as ever.
I keep walking. A beautiful maze indeed. I could walk for an eternity, and never find what I seek. Provided what I seek is within the maze. Which it isn't.
I can't find my way out. Not that I really want to.
Whatever I was looking for, it would either have to find me, or it could just drop in on my head like a failing test score.
And that was such a bad reference that I would never want to ever use again.
So I keep walking. It never looks the same. The hedges change and merge, creating new patterns. New patterns only to my delusional mind, I expect.
And by this time I'm really sick of my maze analogy, so I just snap my fingers, and poof, no more boring maze.
Part of the fun of wandering in your own mind is that you can change the backdrop anytime you want.
I'm no longer walking. Feet hurt from all the stones grazing against my soles. Knew I should have put carpet grass in that maze. Oh well.
Under a tree. Not sure what type of tree. I'm no botanist.
But it's a big tree. Wide branches heavy with evergreen leaves. The grass is long, and I run my hand over their tips, feeling them shyly tickle my palm.
The bark is rough, but not ripped and wounded. I lean against the cool bark, letting myself slide down into a sitting position under the shade.
The wind dances around me, murmuring gently and caressing my hair and skin like a lover would. I close my eyes and relax into a trance-like state. My very own favorite place on the cliff.
A cliff? Yes, a cliff.
For not far from that large, unnamed tree, just ten or more steps from where I'm sitting, was the edge of a cliff.
It was a sharp drop. The end was abrupt, the drop would be quite sudden. Below it lay an expanse of ocean blue. It stretched out far into the horizon, seemingly without end.
No end, no beginning. The sky was all one piece. We all stare at the same sky, no matter where we are.
It was a peaceful place. But I could not stay. Something in my soul stirred, like a wild stallion rearing against the foreign touch of a halter and headcollar.
Sighing with some regret, I snapped my fingers again.
This time, a sand-blasted wasteland. I frown. Did this really have to be next on the list?
Under a blood red sky. The sun, if it could still be called a sun, glowed with sickly radiance, more show than substance. The rays that did touch the land were weak, and did not bring warmth.
Standing tall on another cliff, rough red stone beneath unshod feet. The cracked and parched land gaped open like a dying man in a desert, desperate for nourishment.
Nothing grew there. In that blood-drenched field, only death reigned in all its eternal glory.
Silent as the grave. No sound was heard in that neverending red landscape. No sound, save that of my own heart beating. Slowly, deliberately, almost taunting and mocking in its steady cadence.
Pieces of a broken blade lay not far from my feet. I did not look at them. Didn't have to. Every inch of that accursed thing was imprinted more deeply in my mind than any red-hot brand could onto fresh new skin.
The sickening stench of charred flesh and tortured screams emerged at that new analogy. I pushed them back into that iron prison where all nightmares were stored in the vault of the immortal soul.
My hands were folded behind my back. I did not look at them. I knew how they would appear in this land of battles fought and lives ended.
I smelled an old, familiar scent in the heavy air of this place. It was coming again. The rain that the land craved and abhorred, all at the same time.
It came. First a drizzle, then an all out downpour. Deceptively warm, and in no way refreshing or liberating.
It sank deep into the red soil, adding its color to the one already there. The dry caked land suddenly seemed awash with the oceans of blood that once flowed across its verdant plains.
I stood immobile. The blood rain would stop soon. And it did. It made no difference. The land needed real nourishment, not a reminder of the sins of its past.
Double-dipped in foulness. That's how I looked. My hair was plastered limply against my face, glued there by the sticky fluid that would dry into a crusty red mask.
A mask over the ones I already wore.
At least, drenched in blood as I was, no one would notice the blood that stained my hands prior to that shower. The blood that stained my hands, the blood that refused to be cleansed, everytime I stepped into this hellhole.
It won't come off! Was what Lady Macbeth said. I've said it before, and have given up saying, or even thinking it.
No matter. Hands still resolutely behind my back, my fingers snapped, a dull wet sound.
Into a cool darkness, almost opaque. The red stains flowed off me like a thousand sins as I submerge myself in that icy liquid.
Rising up, my head broke the mirror smooth surface, sending ripples across that miniature lake.
Quietly, I rose from that dark little pond with nary a sound. The water fled from me back into that quiet little sanctuary.
A silent cave. A dark, silent cave.
It was a wide cave, with a very high ceiling. God knows what I would have done in a cave with a low ceiling. Probably go mad, but that's beside the point.
The true extent of the cave is unknown. Shadows lurking at the edges prevented me from finding out. Not that I needed to find out. All I needed in that cave was what I could find in my immediate distance from that shiny little pond from which I had just emerged.
Bare feet padded quietly across uneven ground, only to stop in front of a mirror. A large mirror. Certainly large enough to contain one such as myself, even at close range.
That damnable mirror. It had repaired itself again.
I stared at the foreign reflection in the looking glass. It was me, yet not me. Not quite.
It only showed half of who I really was after all. Or less actually. Part of me, large or small? Not too sure.
Damnable mirror. I thought I'd ruined it the last time.
Well, I could always do it again.
The sensation of breaking glass against a bare unprotected fist never felt so satisfying. Spider-like cracks threaded across the perfect surface, starting from that center of impact.
I didn't remove my fist, at least not at first. There would be the initial stage of numbness, which would quickly fade into a burning sensation as warm red blood trickled from the cuts and tears on that corpse-like flesh. Staining the perfect mirror. The now not-so perfect mirror.
With a sense of detachment, I removed my fist to properly inspect my handiwork. Not too bad really. There was a deranged kind of symmetry in those hairline cracks. Almost like a work of art, if I didn't know better.
Ironically, it could still show my reflection. Well, a very distorted one. Perfect.
Every little shard showed a different side. A different little me. Cracked and distorted.
Just like the little pieces of me.
A small smirk twitched at the corner of my mouth as I turned away, fist still dripping. That wouldn't last. It never did.
Damnable mirror always repaired itself with every visit.
And I never stopped, I reflected with a grim amusement. I just kept smashing it, only to have the accursed thing magically become whole again later. You would think that I would have given up, but I didn't. Persistence of the worst kind, and under the strangest circumstances.
But I needed that truth, that release. To see the broken shards that so reflected my inner being.
So no matter how many times the mirror becomes whole, I will smash it.
If only to see the truth that lies beneath that mask. If only for a few moments.
Just a few moments more. It never lasts.
It never does, isn't it?
Friday, February 17, 2006
Been a while since the last post.
How long has it been?
I don't really care. It's my blog.
I'm still totally addicted to Haruka/Michiru pairing. To the point of saving piccys of them. Like the way I do for BoA. Lol.
I mean, look at that. Totally a H/M moment! And don't give me that crap about cousins, sisters, or "just friends"! Just admit and accept the fact that they are so destined for each other.
And if the 1st picture doesn't change the stubborn minds out there, I'm sure THIS one would.
How could anybody, looking at the above picture, STILL deny the fact that Haruka and Michiru ARE in fact lovers and not whatever crap the dubs have been feeding you?
*breathes deeply* Ok, calming down now.
These two are my favorite couple. The fact that they fit together, not only in terms of their personalities, but also in terms of physical compatibility. The way Michiru seems to fit just nicely into Haruka's embrace is no coincidence. I mean, seriously, when Michi leans into Ruka, her head rests exactly on Ruka's shoulder, no more and no less. Plus, it helps that our aqua-haired senshi is easily the prettiest of all the Sailor Senshi, both Inner and Outer. And does it come as any coincidence that Haruka is also the most masculine among all the senshi? After all, even the Inners mistook Haruka for a really really hot guy the first time they met her.
Ok I'm seriously descending into fangirl mode, which is not a good thing...not really anyway.
Ok, for two of my fav Haruka/Michiru pictures. These are fanart, and they're quite well done.
*is grinning fanatically*
Aren't they just adorable together?
And the 2nd pic shows just how much like a boy Haruka looks. XD
Ok here's another Haruka pic.
By this point in time you can pretty much tell that I really like Haruka. Yes, I like Michiru too, but I prefer Haruka, probably because some aspects of her character really remind me of myself. That and the fact that we're both tomboys. Major difference is that Haruka is actually a lot prettier. *sigh*
Alright then one last picture.
There, a destined couple. Check out the site listed there. Oh, and I got this one from a doujinshi. Really sweet Haruka/Michiru fluff. I read it over and over and go "awww" every single time. Haha.
I still cannot believe the fact that I'm so into the Sailor Moon series. Actually I'm only into it because of this pairing. Granted, I think Usagi and Mamoru make a really adorable couple. Mainly because Mamoru is so hot. Haha.
While trawling the net for more pics, I accidentally ran into a site where I found out that not only does BSSM have a canon yuri couple, they also have a canon yaoi couple. Yeah I know. O__o
Talk about serious unorthodoxy. Granted, that yaoi pairing has one guy looking like a total tranvestite. I mean, at least when Haruka transforms into Uranus, she looks like the woman she really is. That guy just goes around looking for all the world like a woman 24/7. And let's not get me started on the Starlights now. Just thinking about Seiya and his senshi form... *shudder*
Strange how when I was a lot younger, I did follow a bit of the Sailor Moon series, albeit probably the whitewashed one, since Singaporean TV would censor out any possible material hinting at unorthodox pairings and the like.
Speaking of censorship, I still wonder how they managed to slip one very obvious scene in and pass it off as innocent. I mean, it's the one where Michiru/Neptune screams that "A world without Haruka isn't worth saving!".
How can anybody, after hearing that line, still doubt their relationship? Sisters, or cousins, might grieve when the other dies. But they wouldn't say something like THAT. Only lovers would, and that's what they were.
I wonder if they totally removed that scene from the "sanitised" version.
Ok I just read the doujinshi for the nth time. So kawaii!! Michiru giggles quite often over the phone lol. And Haruka being all cool and gentlemanly...and let's not forget the adorable weakness she displays for sweet stuff. (like cookies, sweets...and of course, Michiru. ^__~)
This is one of the few times that a pairing has so totally seized my imagination. I mean, I like a lot of pairings, but never to the extent that I start saving pictures of them. Haha.
Haruka and Michiru have a relationship that not only fufills my "physical" requirement (don't ask), but also the drama-emotional requirement. Not to mention the fluff. They can be awfully fluffy when put in the hands of the right author. I love fluff.
Stop looking at me like I grew another head.
Yes I know I'm usually an angst person. But fluff is healthy. It balances off my darker moods. Haha. The really good angst fics on Haruka and Michiru do make me weep like a baby though. Something about them really touches my heart. Probably, like I said before, I see part of myself reflected in Haruka. Actually, if I could choose, I would want to be like Haruka. Hehe.
Looking at them though, I sigh and wonder...
Where the heck is MY Michiru then?
Lucky Haruka. Sigh. I want my soulmate too. Its depressing. Ok I'm gonna go read more H/M fluff to get my mind off it. Ja ne!
]
How long has it been?
I don't really care. It's my blog.
I'm still totally addicted to Haruka/Michiru pairing. To the point of saving piccys of them. Like the way I do for BoA. Lol.
I mean, look at that. Totally a H/M moment! And don't give me that crap about cousins, sisters, or "just friends"! Just admit and accept the fact that they are so destined for each other.
And if the 1st picture doesn't change the stubborn minds out there, I'm sure THIS one would.
How could anybody, looking at the above picture, STILL deny the fact that Haruka and Michiru ARE in fact lovers and not whatever crap the dubs have been feeding you?
*breathes deeply* Ok, calming down now.
These two are my favorite couple. The fact that they fit together, not only in terms of their personalities, but also in terms of physical compatibility. The way Michiru seems to fit just nicely into Haruka's embrace is no coincidence. I mean, seriously, when Michi leans into Ruka, her head rests exactly on Ruka's shoulder, no more and no less. Plus, it helps that our aqua-haired senshi is easily the prettiest of all the Sailor Senshi, both Inner and Outer. And does it come as any coincidence that Haruka is also the most masculine among all the senshi? After all, even the Inners mistook Haruka for a really really hot guy the first time they met her.
Ok I'm seriously descending into fangirl mode, which is not a good thing...not really anyway.
Ok, for two of my fav Haruka/Michiru pictures. These are fanart, and they're quite well done.
*is grinning fanatically*
Aren't they just adorable together?
And the 2nd pic shows just how much like a boy Haruka looks. XD
Ok here's another Haruka pic.
By this point in time you can pretty much tell that I really like Haruka. Yes, I like Michiru too, but I prefer Haruka, probably because some aspects of her character really remind me of myself. That and the fact that we're both tomboys. Major difference is that Haruka is actually a lot prettier. *sigh*
Alright then one last picture.
There, a destined couple. Check out the site listed there. Oh, and I got this one from a doujinshi. Really sweet Haruka/Michiru fluff. I read it over and over and go "awww" every single time. Haha.
I still cannot believe the fact that I'm so into the Sailor Moon series. Actually I'm only into it because of this pairing. Granted, I think Usagi and Mamoru make a really adorable couple. Mainly because Mamoru is so hot. Haha.
While trawling the net for more pics, I accidentally ran into a site where I found out that not only does BSSM have a canon yuri couple, they also have a canon yaoi couple. Yeah I know. O__o
Talk about serious unorthodoxy. Granted, that yaoi pairing has one guy looking like a total tranvestite. I mean, at least when Haruka transforms into Uranus, she looks like the woman she really is. That guy just goes around looking for all the world like a woman 24/7. And let's not get me started on the Starlights now. Just thinking about Seiya and his senshi form... *shudder*
Strange how when I was a lot younger, I did follow a bit of the Sailor Moon series, albeit probably the whitewashed one, since Singaporean TV would censor out any possible material hinting at unorthodox pairings and the like.
Speaking of censorship, I still wonder how they managed to slip one very obvious scene in and pass it off as innocent. I mean, it's the one where Michiru/Neptune screams that "A world without Haruka isn't worth saving!".
How can anybody, after hearing that line, still doubt their relationship? Sisters, or cousins, might grieve when the other dies. But they wouldn't say something like THAT. Only lovers would, and that's what they were.
I wonder if they totally removed that scene from the "sanitised" version.
Ok I just read the doujinshi for the nth time. So kawaii!! Michiru giggles quite often over the phone lol. And Haruka being all cool and gentlemanly...and let's not forget the adorable weakness she displays for sweet stuff. (like cookies, sweets...and of course, Michiru. ^__~)
This is one of the few times that a pairing has so totally seized my imagination. I mean, I like a lot of pairings, but never to the extent that I start saving pictures of them. Haha.
Haruka and Michiru have a relationship that not only fufills my "physical" requirement (don't ask), but also the drama-emotional requirement. Not to mention the fluff. They can be awfully fluffy when put in the hands of the right author. I love fluff.
Stop looking at me like I grew another head.
Yes I know I'm usually an angst person. But fluff is healthy. It balances off my darker moods. Haha. The really good angst fics on Haruka and Michiru do make me weep like a baby though. Something about them really touches my heart. Probably, like I said before, I see part of myself reflected in Haruka. Actually, if I could choose, I would want to be like Haruka. Hehe.
Looking at them though, I sigh and wonder...
Where the heck is MY Michiru then?
Lucky Haruka. Sigh. I want my soulmate too. Its depressing. Ok I'm gonna go read more H/M fluff to get my mind off it. Ja ne!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Ever wondered what its like to be pathless?
I've always known. Even before reading about it. Even before I've come to my mental awakening.
All my life, I've been striving to please. Top grades, perfect behaviour (well sometimes not so perfect but still), and generally the good kid. Well at least that was the fact until 7 years ago.
7 years. Wow. Has it really been that long?
Chasing a dream that isn't really mine. All my life, I've been told that I would get into a good university. I wanted to get into a good university. It was the path to a good life. A better life.
You know, graduate with honours, find a snazzy high-paying job, maybe find a boyfriend and then get married, have kids, build a nice warm loving family while finding equal fufilment in the job.
Nice life huh?
But is it what I really want? I'm not sure.
I know I would like to graduate from university with honours. Pride, if nothing else, dictates that response. I get a sense of achievement, not to mention the familiar rush of adrenaline when I win something.
Winning. I can barely remember how it feels like anymore.
Instead, I keep remembering how it feels like to fail.
I keep telling myself that not being the best doesn't bother me. I was lying, and I knew it.
It did bother me. I was accustomed to success. I got high on it. Failure was a bitter pill to swallow. But I did it anyway.
Some say that tasting failure made some people strive to work harder in order not to experience it again. I'm not one of them. Instead, I wonder, what in the world am I doing?
Pathless. Living the life I'm expected to live. That I'm supposed to live. That I thought I wanted to live. Fighting over achievements. Striving still higher for greater heights. Forever searching for more than what we have already.
That's the life I'm expected to live. That's the life we're all expected to live.
To run in that rat race. To keep going faster and faster. More power. More money. More happiness. More fufilment. More of everything.
I don't know where I'm going. I said that to my dad. He got pissed. Duh.
He and my grandma then proceeded to tell me how easy my direction in life was. I still remember my dad's incredulous expression, and his baffled words, "How could you not know where you're going? You're a student, so just study, then get a job!"
I wonder why I even bothered in the first place. To explain I mean. They never understood, even when I tried to tell them. The moment he answered that way to my statement, I knew it was pointless to elaborate on why I felt that way.
God, you would think that the first thing he should have said would be, "But why do you feel that way?"
Actually, that was the second thing he said, but it was too late. His first statement revealed too much about his mindset. He could not, would not understand.
To my father, life is very much black and white. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Actually, it's a lot easier to live that way. But back to the point.
My dad is a very simple, practical person. To him, life is like this: you are born, go to school, graduate, get a job, get married, have kids, then die later in life.
Pretty much like the picture I painted earlier.
For him, my life is very simple. I agree in some ways. After all, he does support me financially, he does most of the household chores, and lets me have a fair amount of freedom. The only thing he wants is for me to study, graduate, then get a good job. It shouldn't be too hard for someone like me right?
Right?
I could I suppose. I just have to stop thinking. Just give in. Just be the one society expects me to be. Study, graduate, get job. The married bit might be pushing it a little but yeah. I could do it. I could. I could really do it. I know I could do it. I have to do it. I need to do it.
But...why?
There. That was the accursed question that haunted me. Why? Why am I doing all this? Why am I doing what I'm doing? What am I doing this for? Who am I doing this for?
If I did follow the set path in life, I certainly wouldn't be doing it for myself. I would be doing it for other people. My dad. My granny. The people around me. Society. Even if society doesn't give a flying f*** about me failing and falling in the process. Never mind that.
Bottom line is, if I did go that way, I would be happy. Or so everybody keeps telling me. So I keep telling myself. I wanted to believe in that. So much. I desperately wanted myself to believe that.
But I can't. Because of that thrice-damned question. Why?
Why indeed?
Sometimes it seems, this cycle keeps repeating. I crack under this kind of turmoil. School, family, myself...it all revolves to form a huge hurricane, destroying all in its path. Namely me, but there's usually collateral damage.
I've broken down before. I've picked myself up before. Three times. Three times in seven years. Not too bad I guess. It could have been worse.
Everytime, when everything gets too much, I just fly apart into little pieces that scatter everywhere.
And then somehow, I manage to piece myself together, shard by little shard, trying desperately to glue everything back together.
I keep missing a few pieces. Each time I try to piece that shattered image together, I can't find a few pieces.
Everytime I break down, I lose a little more of myself. It may be just one or two little bits. One or two. Maybe three. Just tiny little bits. How could it matter really?
I remember a crack in the wall. Once it cracks, its flawed forver, no matter what you do to cover it over. You can't change that fact. Even if you can't see it anymore, the fact doesn't change that its still cracked. Or has been cracked. You can't change that. You can never change that.
I glued myself together before. I can do it again. And again. And again. Until there's nothing left to glue together. I don't think that will happen anytime soon. At least, that's what I'm hoping.
What am I doing to myself? I'm talented, I know that, and I'm grateful. Infinitely grateful, since I had something. Better than nothing. I'm intelligent, and I'm grateful, but at the same time its a bloody awful curse.
Cause if I weren't I wouldn't be able to see. I didn't want to see myself. I didn't want to see the ugliness. The sorrow. The pain. All the flaws and hidden cracks. I didn't want to see them. But I can, and there's no going back. I have to learn to live with being able to see, and I can't. I keep falling apart when things get too hard, I have no will to hold myself together. I'm weak, as much as I hate to admit it.
You know, reading all those Haruka/Michiru fics makes me feel happy, makes me feel somewhat hopeful. Because I keep seeing myself reflected in both of them. And if they can find happiness, maybe I can too.
But they had each other. I had no one. No, I don't mean friends or anything. I had friends. Good ones. Grace, Kanai, Chengwei. They know me, sort of. But I don't know them. Not that well. And I'm ashamed of it. If we're supposed to be friends, why is it that I never bothered to learn more? I'm truly a bad friend, aren't I?
I don't deserve them. These good friends. I'm grateful that they're there, that's for sure. But I feel like I don't deserve to have them around me. I don't deserve goodness because I'm such a bad person.
Haruka saw blood on her hands. As do I. We're aren't good enough, we thought. We didn't want them to get closer. It was too difficult, too dangerous.
Haruka found Michiru, although sometimes I think its the other way round. I have no one. At least not now.
A voice to trust. That's what I wrote for Mawata and Kei. I didn't have one. Not in the way I needed it.
Someone to hold on to. I didn't dare to reach out. I was a bad person.
Someone to protect. How can I protect someone when I can't even protect myself?
Someone to live for. I don't deseve them. I don't think I could let one near. How could I, knowing I'd lose them?
Just like Haruka was afraid of losing Michiru. Now I understand. I can't live with that.
A soulmate? Male or female? Does it matter? Souls have no gender, only the shell that binds it does.
Someone to hold me, someone I can trust. Provided I don't drive that person away first. I probably will.
Destiny has no footing in this world. It only exists in our dreams and fantasies.
I'm not strong. They all got it wrong. I'm not strong. I'm afraid. Just a frightened child. I never really grew up.
I'm just pretending. Kanai knew that. So did Chengwei. I'm glad. At least someone noticed.
That's why I'm a child. I'm selfish. I need attention. I keep taking, but I never give back in return. I'm possessive. I'm wilful. I'm childishly immature. That's why I say I never really grew up.
I don't know where I'm going. There are no paths in front of me. None that I can see, at any rate.
...no. There are paths. The straight and narrow one. The broad and winding one, beckoning in all its tempting glory.
And the last one, where there's no path at all. Just a wild blankness.
I walk where no one has walked before! Now where did I hear that before?
Easy to fall. So easy.
I'm spinning around in circles. The earth's rotating.
In the end, we all have our little problems. Don't you agree?
A little problem. That's all it is. A little problem.
Don't you think so?
]
I've always known. Even before reading about it. Even before I've come to my mental awakening.
All my life, I've been striving to please. Top grades, perfect behaviour (well sometimes not so perfect but still), and generally the good kid. Well at least that was the fact until 7 years ago.
7 years. Wow. Has it really been that long?
Chasing a dream that isn't really mine. All my life, I've been told that I would get into a good university. I wanted to get into a good university. It was the path to a good life. A better life.
You know, graduate with honours, find a snazzy high-paying job, maybe find a boyfriend and then get married, have kids, build a nice warm loving family while finding equal fufilment in the job.
Nice life huh?
But is it what I really want? I'm not sure.
I know I would like to graduate from university with honours. Pride, if nothing else, dictates that response. I get a sense of achievement, not to mention the familiar rush of adrenaline when I win something.
Winning. I can barely remember how it feels like anymore.
Instead, I keep remembering how it feels like to fail.
I keep telling myself that not being the best doesn't bother me. I was lying, and I knew it.
It did bother me. I was accustomed to success. I got high on it. Failure was a bitter pill to swallow. But I did it anyway.
Some say that tasting failure made some people strive to work harder in order not to experience it again. I'm not one of them. Instead, I wonder, what in the world am I doing?
Pathless. Living the life I'm expected to live. That I'm supposed to live. That I thought I wanted to live. Fighting over achievements. Striving still higher for greater heights. Forever searching for more than what we have already.
That's the life I'm expected to live. That's the life we're all expected to live.
To run in that rat race. To keep going faster and faster. More power. More money. More happiness. More fufilment. More of everything.
I don't know where I'm going. I said that to my dad. He got pissed. Duh.
He and my grandma then proceeded to tell me how easy my direction in life was. I still remember my dad's incredulous expression, and his baffled words, "How could you not know where you're going? You're a student, so just study, then get a job!"
I wonder why I even bothered in the first place. To explain I mean. They never understood, even when I tried to tell them. The moment he answered that way to my statement, I knew it was pointless to elaborate on why I felt that way.
God, you would think that the first thing he should have said would be, "But why do you feel that way?"
Actually, that was the second thing he said, but it was too late. His first statement revealed too much about his mindset. He could not, would not understand.
To my father, life is very much black and white. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Actually, it's a lot easier to live that way. But back to the point.
My dad is a very simple, practical person. To him, life is like this: you are born, go to school, graduate, get a job, get married, have kids, then die later in life.
Pretty much like the picture I painted earlier.
For him, my life is very simple. I agree in some ways. After all, he does support me financially, he does most of the household chores, and lets me have a fair amount of freedom. The only thing he wants is for me to study, graduate, then get a good job. It shouldn't be too hard for someone like me right?
Right?
I could I suppose. I just have to stop thinking. Just give in. Just be the one society expects me to be. Study, graduate, get job. The married bit might be pushing it a little but yeah. I could do it. I could. I could really do it. I know I could do it. I have to do it. I need to do it.
But...why?
There. That was the accursed question that haunted me. Why? Why am I doing all this? Why am I doing what I'm doing? What am I doing this for? Who am I doing this for?
If I did follow the set path in life, I certainly wouldn't be doing it for myself. I would be doing it for other people. My dad. My granny. The people around me. Society. Even if society doesn't give a flying f*** about me failing and falling in the process. Never mind that.
Bottom line is, if I did go that way, I would be happy. Or so everybody keeps telling me. So I keep telling myself. I wanted to believe in that. So much. I desperately wanted myself to believe that.
But I can't. Because of that thrice-damned question. Why?
Why indeed?
Sometimes it seems, this cycle keeps repeating. I crack under this kind of turmoil. School, family, myself...it all revolves to form a huge hurricane, destroying all in its path. Namely me, but there's usually collateral damage.
I've broken down before. I've picked myself up before. Three times. Three times in seven years. Not too bad I guess. It could have been worse.
Everytime, when everything gets too much, I just fly apart into little pieces that scatter everywhere.
And then somehow, I manage to piece myself together, shard by little shard, trying desperately to glue everything back together.
I keep missing a few pieces. Each time I try to piece that shattered image together, I can't find a few pieces.
Everytime I break down, I lose a little more of myself. It may be just one or two little bits. One or two. Maybe three. Just tiny little bits. How could it matter really?
I remember a crack in the wall. Once it cracks, its flawed forver, no matter what you do to cover it over. You can't change that fact. Even if you can't see it anymore, the fact doesn't change that its still cracked. Or has been cracked. You can't change that. You can never change that.
I glued myself together before. I can do it again. And again. And again. Until there's nothing left to glue together. I don't think that will happen anytime soon. At least, that's what I'm hoping.
What am I doing to myself? I'm talented, I know that, and I'm grateful. Infinitely grateful, since I had something. Better than nothing. I'm intelligent, and I'm grateful, but at the same time its a bloody awful curse.
Cause if I weren't I wouldn't be able to see. I didn't want to see myself. I didn't want to see the ugliness. The sorrow. The pain. All the flaws and hidden cracks. I didn't want to see them. But I can, and there's no going back. I have to learn to live with being able to see, and I can't. I keep falling apart when things get too hard, I have no will to hold myself together. I'm weak, as much as I hate to admit it.
You know, reading all those Haruka/Michiru fics makes me feel happy, makes me feel somewhat hopeful. Because I keep seeing myself reflected in both of them. And if they can find happiness, maybe I can too.
But they had each other. I had no one. No, I don't mean friends or anything. I had friends. Good ones. Grace, Kanai, Chengwei. They know me, sort of. But I don't know them. Not that well. And I'm ashamed of it. If we're supposed to be friends, why is it that I never bothered to learn more? I'm truly a bad friend, aren't I?
I don't deserve them. These good friends. I'm grateful that they're there, that's for sure. But I feel like I don't deserve to have them around me. I don't deserve goodness because I'm such a bad person.
Haruka saw blood on her hands. As do I. We're aren't good enough, we thought. We didn't want them to get closer. It was too difficult, too dangerous.
Haruka found Michiru, although sometimes I think its the other way round. I have no one. At least not now.
A voice to trust. That's what I wrote for Mawata and Kei. I didn't have one. Not in the way I needed it.
Someone to hold on to. I didn't dare to reach out. I was a bad person.
Someone to protect. How can I protect someone when I can't even protect myself?
Someone to live for. I don't deseve them. I don't think I could let one near. How could I, knowing I'd lose them?
Just like Haruka was afraid of losing Michiru. Now I understand. I can't live with that.
A soulmate? Male or female? Does it matter? Souls have no gender, only the shell that binds it does.
Someone to hold me, someone I can trust. Provided I don't drive that person away first. I probably will.
Destiny has no footing in this world. It only exists in our dreams and fantasies.
I'm not strong. They all got it wrong. I'm not strong. I'm afraid. Just a frightened child. I never really grew up.
I'm just pretending. Kanai knew that. So did Chengwei. I'm glad. At least someone noticed.
That's why I'm a child. I'm selfish. I need attention. I keep taking, but I never give back in return. I'm possessive. I'm wilful. I'm childishly immature. That's why I say I never really grew up.
I don't know where I'm going. There are no paths in front of me. None that I can see, at any rate.
...no. There are paths. The straight and narrow one. The broad and winding one, beckoning in all its tempting glory.
And the last one, where there's no path at all. Just a wild blankness.
I walk where no one has walked before! Now where did I hear that before?
Easy to fall. So easy.
I'm spinning around in circles. The earth's rotating.
In the end, we all have our little problems. Don't you agree?
A little problem. That's all it is. A little problem.
Don't you think so?
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Don't cry for me.
Just thought I'd put that in.
Haruka + Michiru forever! ^__^
Yes I know its a lesbian pairing, but honestly, who cares? Plus its canon, so you guys can't blame me for being obsessed with shoujo-ai pairings.
But you are obsessed!
Ok I can't argue with that.
But seriously though, when I put that first line on my post, I was thinking of Haruka saying that to Michiru for some reason. Don't ask how it got there, it just popped into my head.
If I knew how to write Sailor Moon fics, I would just write a one shot of them with that as a title. Hehe.
You do know that you're talking about writing Sailor Moon fics aren't you?! *looks shocked*
Iknow that. Yes, BSSM is really kinda cheesy at parts. Especially when they transform. And the overwhelming girlyness...
Well, hello, its a shoujo anime, what did you expect?
Ok well yeah. But I absolutely love Haruka and Michiru. They really rock hehe.
I identify a lot more with Haruka in general, but that's mostly because she's a total tomboy and she's tall.
But she's blond.
So? She's still cool. I'm not that prejudiced against blondes...
Oh really?
Ok so maybe sometimes I am. But I make exceptions too.
I can't believe how the bastardised versions of Sailor Moon that reach Singapore (and America) always conveniently omit the fact that Haruka and Michiru are lovers, not COUSINS as the dub claims. I mean, sheesh, homophobia much? Why is it that always believe that the masses cannot make independent decisions and only respond to influences, desirable or not?
You are turning this into a GP discussion on mass culture dear.
Ok fine. I won't go into that. Then there's BtVS, where they actually excised all scenes of Willow and Tara being mentioned as a couple. I mean, really! No wonder Season 3 in Singapore looks so damn weird, because there are large holes in the series that they cut out, thus ruining the plotline and making certain plot twists irrelevant because there's no Willow/Tara interaction to back it up!
Getting hysterical I see. You always hate it when stuff like that happens.
Yeah. Actually, minor cuts are ok. As long as it doesn't interfere with the flow and development of the story, and it doesn't change the plot too much, I can accept certain things being left out if the censors feel that it has inappropriate content.
However, when the cuts start damaging the integrity of the story, that's when I get pissed. As everyone knows, all fanfic writers thrive on DETAILS. Cutting stuff out means we miss out on what might be crucial or interesting details that we can expand on in our fics. Besides, who likes having a story that doesn't make sense because many cuts have been made, thus spoiling the plot development?
Ok, I should stop ranting about censorship. I have nothing against censorship actually, just the extent to which it is being carried out. Besides, if I really want the uncut version, I can always wait for the DVD release. It's more expensive, but at least I can watch in peace.
Ok back to reading Haruka/Michiru fics. Love the two.
Quote:
Now I know why the Sailor Senshi make such a great team. They're all desperately in love with each other!
---Haruka, The Last Sacrifice by kazeko-chan
]
Just thought I'd put that in.
Haruka + Michiru forever! ^__^
Yes I know its a lesbian pairing, but honestly, who cares? Plus its canon, so you guys can't blame me for being obsessed with shoujo-ai pairings.
But you are obsessed!
Ok I can't argue with that.
But seriously though, when I put that first line on my post, I was thinking of Haruka saying that to Michiru for some reason. Don't ask how it got there, it just popped into my head.
If I knew how to write Sailor Moon fics, I would just write a one shot of them with that as a title. Hehe.
You do know that you're talking about writing Sailor Moon fics aren't you?! *looks shocked*
Iknow that. Yes, BSSM is really kinda cheesy at parts. Especially when they transform. And the overwhelming girlyness...
Well, hello, its a shoujo anime, what did you expect?
Ok well yeah. But I absolutely love Haruka and Michiru. They really rock hehe.
I identify a lot more with Haruka in general, but that's mostly because she's a total tomboy and she's tall.
But she's blond.
So? She's still cool. I'm not that prejudiced against blondes...
Oh really?
Ok so maybe sometimes I am. But I make exceptions too.
I can't believe how the bastardised versions of Sailor Moon that reach Singapore (and America) always conveniently omit the fact that Haruka and Michiru are lovers, not COUSINS as the dub claims. I mean, sheesh, homophobia much? Why is it that always believe that the masses cannot make independent decisions and only respond to influences, desirable or not?
You are turning this into a GP discussion on mass culture dear.
Ok fine. I won't go into that. Then there's BtVS, where they actually excised all scenes of Willow and Tara being mentioned as a couple. I mean, really! No wonder Season 3 in Singapore looks so damn weird, because there are large holes in the series that they cut out, thus ruining the plotline and making certain plot twists irrelevant because there's no Willow/Tara interaction to back it up!
Getting hysterical I see. You always hate it when stuff like that happens.
Yeah. Actually, minor cuts are ok. As long as it doesn't interfere with the flow and development of the story, and it doesn't change the plot too much, I can accept certain things being left out if the censors feel that it has inappropriate content.
However, when the cuts start damaging the integrity of the story, that's when I get pissed. As everyone knows, all fanfic writers thrive on DETAILS. Cutting stuff out means we miss out on what might be crucial or interesting details that we can expand on in our fics. Besides, who likes having a story that doesn't make sense because many cuts have been made, thus spoiling the plot development?
Ok, I should stop ranting about censorship. I have nothing against censorship actually, just the extent to which it is being carried out. Besides, if I really want the uncut version, I can always wait for the DVD release. It's more expensive, but at least I can watch in peace.
Ok back to reading Haruka/Michiru fics. Love the two.
Quote:
Now I know why the Sailor Senshi make such a great team. They're all desperately in love with each other!
---Haruka, The Last Sacrifice by kazeko-chan
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Incredible.
Simply f****** incredible.
I cried.
Don't mind her. She's a little...unstable now.
Pain. Pain of rejection. I could never do that well.
Can I?
Hush, you are too hard on yourself.
I'm not good at anything. I can't do well at anything. Always never good enough.
Shhh...
Always reaching for the sky. Never quite touching it.
What am I? Who am I?
Why am I like this?
....you still have me. You always will have me, like it or not.
I hate you.
Too bad. You're stuck with with me.
Angel...no one's my angel.
I am damned forever.
no one to care for me no one to save me we're drowning and no one sees no one cares we're all alone and hurting and nooneknowsnoonecaresithurtssomuchnooneknows
We are all so alone.
.........
What is wrong with me? No one knows.
I don't know either.
wallowing in self pity so weak so useless so helpless pathetic weak useless hopeless weakling fool coward foolish freak unreal crazy freak go away we don't want you you taint us like poison you suck the life out of everyone poison sick twisted evil freak we DON'T WANT YOU around just leave go away uselessfreaknoonewantsyousogoaway...
Poison. You taint me Chaos.
....no. We tainted each other.
Why can't we stop hurting each other?
Because you love the pain.
............................
Because you can't imagine life without it.
................
Because it is a part of YOU.
Stop.
Stop.
Just stop it.
Don't wanna hear it? Too bad. Stop running away my little wolf.
Running? I'm no wolf Chaos.
No. What are you indeed?
I don't know. I don't know what I am.
Am I more or less of a human?
....No....you ARE human. Pity
Pity? That all you can say?
....no. It is all you can say.
Pity. Such pity.
...that you don't need. I know.
You know. They don't. I don't.
We all don't.
Except you.
But even you don't either.
.....perhaps.
What am I doing to myself?
Hurting. You're hurting yourself.
And in the end, no one knows.
They never did believe.
Who would? It's easier not to. You're still the bright girl that everybody sees. That everybody wants to see.
Either that or the surly, unfriendly girl who scowls at visitors.
That too. You're still hurting.
Hurting me. Hurting them.
What does it matter?
Even me?
You know the answer to that.
Yes. Yes I do.
We all have our little secrets don't we, Chaos?
Our skeletons in the closet.
Our dirty linen.
Our secret fears, pleasures, guilt and pain.
We all have secrets.
Yes...and I know them all.
If I didn't hate you, I would love you.
You do already, and you know it.
Perhaps. What does it matter?
In the end, we all turn to dust to reunite with the earth that spawned us.
Cliched. You must be slipping.
Yes. I'm never good enough. For others. For myself.
Never good enough.
It's never enough.
in the end we're all greedy children tasting wanting more than what we already have never satisfied always demanding selfish more and more draining sucking others dry we're all children without innocence angry demanding selfish all about me first us first never regarding others we keep yelling shouting wanting asking for more begging pleading threatening crying throwing tantrums scheming planning plotting sneering twisting smiling wanting never enough always asking more more more corrupted innocence we scream cry sigh and fight its never enough and then we.......
You're losing it. Hold it together honey.
I'm not your honey.
Point. Nice touch about the children part. Could see it in you.
And in you too smartass.
We never really grow up, do we?
You didn't. I didn't. Not confirmed about the stinking masses though.
...hnnnft. Stinking masses?
Yeah, despite the cologne, perfume, deodorant, or whatever it is they wear.
It's not what they wear Chaos. It's who they are.
Who we all are.
Human.
Weak, ignorant, pathetic humans.
You really hate them don't you?
Yes. Why ask questions you already know the answer to?
Blame that on you. If you hate humanity, doesn't that include yourself?
Bravo Chaos. Absolute genius observation.
Quit the sarcasm. It doesn't work on me. Save it for the ignorant.
We're all ignorant Chaos. You, me, them. We're all ignorant.
Well at least you know that fact. They don't even know.
Some of them do. But not in the way I mean.
Naturally. You really need Kanai or Chengwei around for you to rant to though.
Kanai's asleep...or at least she'd better be, or else I would personally dose her with tranquilizers and make sure she stays comatose for at least a few days.
As for Chengwei, I can't even summon the will to open MSN to talk to him.
Provided he's there.
That too.
Isn't it odd how your life works? The ones you can really talk to are the ones furthest from you. Well Kanai is at any rate. Chengwei is still on the same island at least. But you two were never close before.
I know. It's easier that way. You'd know what I mean, don't you Chaos?
That's what you've been doing all this time.
....haha. Caught out. At least you'd figured it out on your own.
I'm not sure if I'm on my own anymore. How can I, with you around like a constant pain in the butt?
Gee, I'm sure that was a compliment. Weird, but knowing you, that's no surprise.
No it ain't all right. I feel better. Crazy, but better in a weird way.
Talking it out helps. Even if its with a psycho like me.
So you admit you ARE a psycho?
What's there not to admit? You're psycho too.
Insanity loves company. I guess we're a good pair aren't we?
Yes we are. A sick sad mad bad pair...
But a pair nevertheless.
Always and forever.
Always......
Quote:
I need you like water
Like breath, like rain
I need you like mercy
From heaven’s gate
I need you...
...but I can't have you...not now...
......not ever......
]
Simply f****** incredible.
I cried.
Don't mind her. She's a little...unstable now.
Pain. Pain of rejection. I could never do that well.
Can I?
Hush, you are too hard on yourself.
I'm not good at anything. I can't do well at anything. Always never good enough.
Shhh...
Always reaching for the sky. Never quite touching it.
What am I? Who am I?
Why am I like this?
....you still have me. You always will have me, like it or not.
I hate you.
Too bad. You're stuck with with me.
Angel...no one's my angel.
I am damned forever.
no one to care for me no one to save me we're drowning and no one sees no one cares we're all alone and hurting and nooneknowsnoonecaresithurtssomuchnooneknows
We are all so alone.
.........
What is wrong with me? No one knows.
I don't know either.
wallowing in self pity so weak so useless so helpless pathetic weak useless hopeless weakling fool coward foolish freak unreal crazy freak go away we don't want you you taint us like poison you suck the life out of everyone poison sick twisted evil freak we DON'T WANT YOU around just leave go away uselessfreaknoonewantsyousogoaway...
Poison. You taint me Chaos.
....no. We tainted each other.
Why can't we stop hurting each other?
Because you love the pain.
............................
Because you can't imagine life without it.
................
Because it is a part of YOU.
Stop.
Stop.
Just stop it.
Don't wanna hear it? Too bad. Stop running away my little wolf.
Running? I'm no wolf Chaos.
No. What are you indeed?
I don't know. I don't know what I am.
Am I more or less of a human?
....No....you ARE human. Pity
Pity? That all you can say?
....no. It is all you can say.
Pity. Such pity.
...that you don't need. I know.
You know. They don't. I don't.
We all don't.
Except you.
But even you don't either.
.....perhaps.
What am I doing to myself?
Hurting. You're hurting yourself.
And in the end, no one knows.
They never did believe.
Who would? It's easier not to. You're still the bright girl that everybody sees. That everybody wants to see.
Either that or the surly, unfriendly girl who scowls at visitors.
That too. You're still hurting.
Hurting me. Hurting them.
What does it matter?
Even me?
You know the answer to that.
Yes. Yes I do.
We all have our little secrets don't we, Chaos?
Our skeletons in the closet.
Our dirty linen.
Our secret fears, pleasures, guilt and pain.
We all have secrets.
Yes...and I know them all.
If I didn't hate you, I would love you.
You do already, and you know it.
Perhaps. What does it matter?
In the end, we all turn to dust to reunite with the earth that spawned us.
Cliched. You must be slipping.
Yes. I'm never good enough. For others. For myself.
Never good enough.
It's never enough.
in the end we're all greedy children tasting wanting more than what we already have never satisfied always demanding selfish more and more draining sucking others dry we're all children without innocence angry demanding selfish all about me first us first never regarding others we keep yelling shouting wanting asking for more begging pleading threatening crying throwing tantrums scheming planning plotting sneering twisting smiling wanting never enough always asking more more more corrupted innocence we scream cry sigh and fight its never enough and then we.......
You're losing it. Hold it together honey.
I'm not your honey.
Point. Nice touch about the children part. Could see it in you.
And in you too smartass.
We never really grow up, do we?
You didn't. I didn't. Not confirmed about the stinking masses though.
...hnnnft. Stinking masses?
Yeah, despite the cologne, perfume, deodorant, or whatever it is they wear.
It's not what they wear Chaos. It's who they are.
Who we all are.
Human.
Weak, ignorant, pathetic humans.
You really hate them don't you?
Yes. Why ask questions you already know the answer to?
Blame that on you. If you hate humanity, doesn't that include yourself?
Bravo Chaos. Absolute genius observation.
Quit the sarcasm. It doesn't work on me. Save it for the ignorant.
We're all ignorant Chaos. You, me, them. We're all ignorant.
Well at least you know that fact. They don't even know.
Some of them do. But not in the way I mean.
Naturally. You really need Kanai or Chengwei around for you to rant to though.
Kanai's asleep...or at least she'd better be, or else I would personally dose her with tranquilizers and make sure she stays comatose for at least a few days.
As for Chengwei, I can't even summon the will to open MSN to talk to him.
Provided he's there.
That too.
Isn't it odd how your life works? The ones you can really talk to are the ones furthest from you. Well Kanai is at any rate. Chengwei is still on the same island at least. But you two were never close before.
I know. It's easier that way. You'd know what I mean, don't you Chaos?
That's what you've been doing all this time.
....haha. Caught out. At least you'd figured it out on your own.
I'm not sure if I'm on my own anymore. How can I, with you around like a constant pain in the butt?
Gee, I'm sure that was a compliment. Weird, but knowing you, that's no surprise.
No it ain't all right. I feel better. Crazy, but better in a weird way.
Talking it out helps. Even if its with a psycho like me.
So you admit you ARE a psycho?
What's there not to admit? You're psycho too.
Insanity loves company. I guess we're a good pair aren't we?
Yes we are. A sick sad mad bad pair...
But a pair nevertheless.
Always and forever.
Always......
Quote:
I need you like water
Like breath, like rain
I need you like mercy
From heaven’s gate
I need you...
...but I can't have you...not now...
......not ever......
Thursday, February 09, 2006
It's been a bit since I last blogged.
Not sure why I'm here except for a certain sense of obligation I guess.
Feeling a little weird, reading too much shoujo-ai fanfiction does that to you I guess. Rikku/Yuffie is a new pairing I found to be pretty nice. I mean, they're both thieves, and so yeah...haha.
Of course technically Rikku isn't a thief, but she somehow always ends up in that role in the game cos of the way her sphere grid is arranged.
Feeling forlorn for some reason. Erika just left for Brisbane last night, and that makes me sad. Grace asked me if I cried when I saw her for what will be the last time in 10 months.
I said no. I'm not a crying person in general. But I did feel the beginning of tears at one point.
But I didn't cry. Hmm. Does that make me less of a friend? Or just less emotional period?
Oh who cares.
.....
Never mind I'll go back to my reading.
]
Not sure why I'm here except for a certain sense of obligation I guess.
Feeling a little weird, reading too much shoujo-ai fanfiction does that to you I guess. Rikku/Yuffie is a new pairing I found to be pretty nice. I mean, they're both thieves, and so yeah...haha.
Of course technically Rikku isn't a thief, but she somehow always ends up in that role in the game cos of the way her sphere grid is arranged.
Feeling forlorn for some reason. Erika just left for Brisbane last night, and that makes me sad. Grace asked me if I cried when I saw her for what will be the last time in 10 months.
I said no. I'm not a crying person in general. But I did feel the beginning of tears at one point.
But I didn't cry. Hmm. Does that make me less of a friend? Or just less emotional period?
Oh who cares.
.....
Never mind I'll go back to my reading.
Friday, February 03, 2006
I spent about 30 seconds staring into the mirror after my shower.
You WHAT?!
Yeah yeah, I know that's seriously OOC. Who'd have thought huh?
Honestly...what is there to see?
Shut up Chaos.
Anyway I was amazed by the fact that I have very light brown eyes.
You mean you've had your eyes for nearly 18 years and you only noticed them NOW? Pshaw.
Hey I was never a mirror person. The most interaction I have with a mirror is when I'm sitting at a hair salon and making faces at it cause I was so bored.
So what brought on the sudden narcissistic behaviour?
Meh, just a thought.
Grace was right, I do have pretty eyes. But the rest of me is kind of, blah. Face and body, all pretty average. Well except for the height. Always excepting the height. Haha.
Well I guess it could be worse...
Yeah. I like my eyes. I really really do.
That's something.
Ok this post is here only because I wanted to let everybody know I have pretty eyes. Or at least let everybody realise that I realised it finally. Hmm....
What makes you think anybody cares?
They might, or might not. Who cares? It's my blog after all.
Famous last words...
Speaking of famous last words, I'm HUNGRY!
Sheesh...
*shrug* I didn't have lunch after all.
Only because you're a lazy bum.
Well there's that too. Anyway, since I have nothing much to extemporise on, I shall leave. Byeeeeeeeee!!
]
You WHAT?!
Yeah yeah, I know that's seriously OOC. Who'd have thought huh?
Honestly...what is there to see?
Shut up Chaos.
Anyway I was amazed by the fact that I have very light brown eyes.
You mean you've had your eyes for nearly 18 years and you only noticed them NOW? Pshaw.
Hey I was never a mirror person. The most interaction I have with a mirror is when I'm sitting at a hair salon and making faces at it cause I was so bored.
So what brought on the sudden narcissistic behaviour?
Meh, just a thought.
Grace was right, I do have pretty eyes. But the rest of me is kind of, blah. Face and body, all pretty average. Well except for the height. Always excepting the height. Haha.
Well I guess it could be worse...
Yeah. I like my eyes. I really really do.
That's something.
Ok this post is here only because I wanted to let everybody know I have pretty eyes. Or at least let everybody realise that I realised it finally. Hmm....
What makes you think anybody cares?
They might, or might not. Who cares? It's my blog after all.
Famous last words...
Speaking of famous last words, I'm HUNGRY!
Sheesh...
*shrug* I didn't have lunch after all.
Only because you're a lazy bum.
Well there's that too. Anyway, since I have nothing much to extemporise on, I shall leave. Byeeeeeeeee!!
Haiz.
Didn't go to school today because of a serious migraine.
That's the official reason at any rate.
But I did have a migraine, which started on my way home from school yesterday. I was on the verge of banging my head against the wall to try and numb the pain somehow (dumb I know), but had to restrain myself due to the fact that I didn't want to be labelled as a lunatic in my school uniform by all the other people on the same MRT carriage that I was.
Of course, the migraine subsided later, but returned with full force somewhere around midnight, when I was about to go watch anime at 11pm. but woke up an hour later to realise that I slept through the anime slot. And also with a thudding headache.
Was reading Chengwei's blog again. It's one of the few that I visit on any regular basis, the others being Gracie's blog and occasionally Lester's and Wan Jing's blogs. I never felt the urge to read the blogs of some people though. I wonder why...
Incidentally, one of Chengwei's recent posts made me almost cry. Almost. I don't cry that easily. I hope.
How much have I given up to become what I am today? That's a question usually applied to great people, or people who have achieved great things. I am neither, yet Chengwei asked the same of me.
Actually though, everyone changes. That's an absolute fact. And inevitably, we give up little things about ourselves in the process. Sometimes we notice, most times we don't. Until many many years later, we look back and realise what we lost.
What have I given up?
Love. I want to love, but sometimes it feels so hard. I cling on to my love for my father, but at the same time I reject that feeling because it hurts me more than it benefits me. And I'm wary of loving others because I'm afraid that they'll leave.
Already, my emotional dependency on some of my friends (like Grace and even Kanai) is starting to worry me. I keep telling myself that I've got to wean myself off that debiliating dependency, but yet I'm reluctant to pull out of my comfort zone.
I trust my friends, yet some treacherous parts of my head tells me not to do so, in the inevitable face of the fact that nobody will stay the same forever.
Hating is a lot easier than loving. But hating can also be more painful. I don't want to hate my friends because I've already had enough of the pain, but loving my friends makes me uneasy, with the possibility that someday they will all leave me hanging heavily over my head.
So I kind of hang somewhere in between. I trust my friends with a lot of things, but with a failsafe in mind: the ability to cut loose and away when the situation calls for it. It's a crappy compromise, but its better than grieving over loss when it happens, or isolating oneself from ALL friendly contact.
It's this kind of struggle that I have, one that Chengwei also mentions on his blog. I struggle between my instinctive reaction to help, and my cynical response of apathy.
On a sidenote, I just realised that a lot of my posts are awfully self-centered. Heck, I already knew that I was an awfully self-centered person. I like talking about me. Does that count as narcisscism? I think it does, at least that's the way I see it.
I can't talk about other people without inevitably returning the subject to myself. That's a serious character flaw. I relate to other people according to myself and my experiences.
I'm not sure if that last line made sense.
I could well be a poster child for the "me first!" mentality. I do it all the time, consciously or not. I try and try to be sensitive to others, but it always comes back to me first. Meh...
Mr Smith mentioned in class that people who devote themselves to the artistic world, like musicians, poets, and artists and the like, are often difficult people to live with as they are so closed off to what is perceived as "the real world". Its a result of them being enclosed in their own world where they derive their inspiration from.
By own world I don't mean the world of our imaginations. Of course, there's always an element of that, but its basically a matter of perception.
Normal people look at the sky and see dark and heavy clouds. They think, "It's gonna rain."
Someone else, like an artist perhaps, look up, see the same phenomenon, and think "Beautiful, now how do I capture that beauty?"
The fact that it may rain may or may not cross the artist's mind. The first thing they will recognise is the potential of what they see that can be applied to their own work. Of course, I'm generalising, since I'm no artist. It's just an opinion that can be disputed.
But I do know that when I see storm clouds, I also make the correlation that it will rain, but at the back of my mind I admire the beauty of nature and wonder if I could ever translate it to words.
In fact, one fine morning at SAV, on the first day of school in fact, I sat at the edge of the canteen staring at the sky. I was bemused, caught in the wonderment of the sun rising higher and higher, staining the clouds with a brilliant fiery crimson. The clouds themselves were not the kind that were puffy like cotton balls, but streaked ridges like rows of plowed farmland. I remember seeing the sight and sighing over how wondrous it was, and how I couldn't be able to put the beauty of it into words, like I'm trying so badly now.
In fact, my words don't do justice to that sight. I always feel ashamed of myself when that happens. Feelings of inadequacy is a term that seems woefully inadequate to express how I feel about myself.
I'm a work-in-progress. I need a wider vocabulary. I need to get a new dictionary and update myself. I need new words to convey what I see and feel in the wider world that I place myself in.
But then again, words are never enough to convey everything. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I say its worth far more than that. It makes me feel humbled when I see the works of masters.
Seeing a raven in flight, a glossy jet black with perfectly preened feathers, soaring over our heads to land on a nearby table.
Many would see a pest, a scavenger that dirties the place with its waste matter.
I saw a work of beauty in the piercing black eyes, gleaming like precious stones and shining with an almost cunningly sinister intelligence. I saw sleek black feathers, gleaming as if it were oiled, reflecting the sun's rays and absorbing it at the same time. I saw power and freedom and beauty, all in this creature known as a pest and scavenger, and once called a harbinger of death in ancient times.
Sometimes I think I'm really going insane. Don't you?
]
Didn't go to school today because of a serious migraine.
That's the official reason at any rate.
But I did have a migraine, which started on my way home from school yesterday. I was on the verge of banging my head against the wall to try and numb the pain somehow (dumb I know), but had to restrain myself due to the fact that I didn't want to be labelled as a lunatic in my school uniform by all the other people on the same MRT carriage that I was.
Of course, the migraine subsided later, but returned with full force somewhere around midnight, when I was about to go watch anime at 11pm. but woke up an hour later to realise that I slept through the anime slot. And also with a thudding headache.
Was reading Chengwei's blog again. It's one of the few that I visit on any regular basis, the others being Gracie's blog and occasionally Lester's and Wan Jing's blogs. I never felt the urge to read the blogs of some people though. I wonder why...
Incidentally, one of Chengwei's recent posts made me almost cry. Almost. I don't cry that easily. I hope.
How much have I given up to become what I am today? That's a question usually applied to great people, or people who have achieved great things. I am neither, yet Chengwei asked the same of me.
Actually though, everyone changes. That's an absolute fact. And inevitably, we give up little things about ourselves in the process. Sometimes we notice, most times we don't. Until many many years later, we look back and realise what we lost.
What have I given up?
Love. I want to love, but sometimes it feels so hard. I cling on to my love for my father, but at the same time I reject that feeling because it hurts me more than it benefits me. And I'm wary of loving others because I'm afraid that they'll leave.
Already, my emotional dependency on some of my friends (like Grace and even Kanai) is starting to worry me. I keep telling myself that I've got to wean myself off that debiliating dependency, but yet I'm reluctant to pull out of my comfort zone.
I trust my friends, yet some treacherous parts of my head tells me not to do so, in the inevitable face of the fact that nobody will stay the same forever.
Hating is a lot easier than loving. But hating can also be more painful. I don't want to hate my friends because I've already had enough of the pain, but loving my friends makes me uneasy, with the possibility that someday they will all leave me hanging heavily over my head.
So I kind of hang somewhere in between. I trust my friends with a lot of things, but with a failsafe in mind: the ability to cut loose and away when the situation calls for it. It's a crappy compromise, but its better than grieving over loss when it happens, or isolating oneself from ALL friendly contact.
It's this kind of struggle that I have, one that Chengwei also mentions on his blog. I struggle between my instinctive reaction to help, and my cynical response of apathy.
On a sidenote, I just realised that a lot of my posts are awfully self-centered. Heck, I already knew that I was an awfully self-centered person. I like talking about me. Does that count as narcisscism? I think it does, at least that's the way I see it.
I can't talk about other people without inevitably returning the subject to myself. That's a serious character flaw. I relate to other people according to myself and my experiences.
I'm not sure if that last line made sense.
I could well be a poster child for the "me first!" mentality. I do it all the time, consciously or not. I try and try to be sensitive to others, but it always comes back to me first. Meh...
Mr Smith mentioned in class that people who devote themselves to the artistic world, like musicians, poets, and artists and the like, are often difficult people to live with as they are so closed off to what is perceived as "the real world". Its a result of them being enclosed in their own world where they derive their inspiration from.
By own world I don't mean the world of our imaginations. Of course, there's always an element of that, but its basically a matter of perception.
Normal people look at the sky and see dark and heavy clouds. They think, "It's gonna rain."
Someone else, like an artist perhaps, look up, see the same phenomenon, and think "Beautiful, now how do I capture that beauty?"
The fact that it may rain may or may not cross the artist's mind. The first thing they will recognise is the potential of what they see that can be applied to their own work. Of course, I'm generalising, since I'm no artist. It's just an opinion that can be disputed.
But I do know that when I see storm clouds, I also make the correlation that it will rain, but at the back of my mind I admire the beauty of nature and wonder if I could ever translate it to words.
In fact, one fine morning at SAV, on the first day of school in fact, I sat at the edge of the canteen staring at the sky. I was bemused, caught in the wonderment of the sun rising higher and higher, staining the clouds with a brilliant fiery crimson. The clouds themselves were not the kind that were puffy like cotton balls, but streaked ridges like rows of plowed farmland. I remember seeing the sight and sighing over how wondrous it was, and how I couldn't be able to put the beauty of it into words, like I'm trying so badly now.
In fact, my words don't do justice to that sight. I always feel ashamed of myself when that happens. Feelings of inadequacy is a term that seems woefully inadequate to express how I feel about myself.
I'm a work-in-progress. I need a wider vocabulary. I need to get a new dictionary and update myself. I need new words to convey what I see and feel in the wider world that I place myself in.
But then again, words are never enough to convey everything. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I say its worth far more than that. It makes me feel humbled when I see the works of masters.
Seeing a raven in flight, a glossy jet black with perfectly preened feathers, soaring over our heads to land on a nearby table.
Many would see a pest, a scavenger that dirties the place with its waste matter.
I saw a work of beauty in the piercing black eyes, gleaming like precious stones and shining with an almost cunningly sinister intelligence. I saw sleek black feathers, gleaming as if it were oiled, reflecting the sun's rays and absorbing it at the same time. I saw power and freedom and beauty, all in this creature known as a pest and scavenger, and once called a harbinger of death in ancient times.
Sometimes I think I'm really going insane. Don't you?
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Am doing a very good/bad job of proc-ing right now.
I'm never gonna sleep tonight.
And you'd deserve it too.
What the bugger said. Oh god I'm turning into a Muggle-fied Fleur! (don't ask)
Yuck. Snap out of it! Or I'll hit you!
Yeah, yeah. Snapping out of it.
But good lord, no one has the right to look that hot.
Are you talking about the blonde French tart? Because if you are, I worry about you.
You? Worry? About me? Now that's fresh.
Anyway I was referring to BoA.
Oh thanks the gods. Or thank me. All the same.
Whatever.
Saving BoA wallies. Do I need to go further?
Thanks, but no thanks.
Awww Chaos, didn't I hear you go "I have to have that!" just now when I was looking at the pictures?
...Grace was right, your hearing IS faulty.
Not!!!
Besides I don't use my ears to listen to you. *smug*
Damn you're right!
Haha. Don't worry you're in good company. God I love gawking at BoA.
No drool this time?
Only when I watch Dakishimeru performances. And there was that one Valenti performance that was really hot...
I worry about you... Really I do.
Hey it wasn't that bad. It was only a little bit.
But the fact that you're even doing it...
Since when did YOU become a prissy prude?
Nah, just thought I'd mention it.
Thought so. Anyway I posted up chapter 4 of my fic. Yay me!
And I expect you'd go for weeks without posting again?
I'm not that irresponsible Chaos... *raised eyebrow* ....ok so maybe I am.
Shouldn't you go do your comparative essay like, right now.
Yeah I should. Time to murder myself in the process.
Just don't murder the lines. You deserve it, they don't.
Gee thanks.
Always.
]
I'm never gonna sleep tonight.
And you'd deserve it too.
What the bugger said. Oh god I'm turning into a Muggle-fied Fleur! (don't ask)
Yuck. Snap out of it! Or I'll hit you!
Yeah, yeah. Snapping out of it.
But good lord, no one has the right to look that hot.
Are you talking about the blonde French tart? Because if you are, I worry about you.
You? Worry? About me? Now that's fresh.
Anyway I was referring to BoA.
Oh thanks the gods. Or thank me. All the same.
Whatever.
Saving BoA wallies. Do I need to go further?
Thanks, but no thanks.
Awww Chaos, didn't I hear you go "I have to have that!" just now when I was looking at the pictures?
...Grace was right, your hearing IS faulty.
Not!!!
Besides I don't use my ears to listen to you. *smug*
Damn you're right!
Haha. Don't worry you're in good company. God I love gawking at BoA.
No drool this time?
Only when I watch Dakishimeru performances. And there was that one Valenti performance that was really hot...
I worry about you... Really I do.
Hey it wasn't that bad. It was only a little bit.
But the fact that you're even doing it...
Since when did YOU become a prissy prude?
Nah, just thought I'd mention it.
Thought so. Anyway I posted up chapter 4 of my fic. Yay me!
And I expect you'd go for weeks without posting again?
I'm not that irresponsible Chaos... *raised eyebrow* ....ok so maybe I am.
Shouldn't you go do your comparative essay like, right now.
Yeah I should. Time to murder myself in the process.
Just don't murder the lines. You deserve it, they don't.
Gee thanks.
Always.
