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| I believe that many people have reasons why they write in diaries/journals/blogs.:P Hey, I can even list some of those here pretty easy: 1."I just love writing. It's my hobby." 2.I think too much. If I don't do something really constructive and productive about it, I am afraid that my poor head will soon explode!*big evil grin* 3."I write better than I talk, and I don't feel like wasting other people's precious time listening (and waiting impatiently) to my stutterings. That's awfully embarrassing!" 4."Not everybody in the world can always accept brutal honesty. That's what I am truly aware of." 5."I feel that the world is slowly lacking sympathy.:( Still, you know what to do when nobody bothers to at least spend a little time to listen to your problems." 6."I can be my own heroine in my own storybook!";D 7.... ...and the list could go on forever. However, I'd like to sum it all up with my own reason these days: "This is my way of keeping my sanity." ......................... *big evil grin* Yes, people. That's right. I am seriously addicted to writing. This has been my therapy. You may and may not like what I write in here. That is truly up to you. Besides, I am just here to present my point of view. So, welcome to my world. The Author |
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| Do you know a place between asleep and awake? I think it's where you (can) remember all your dreams. Good or bad, happy or sad...they're all there. Yes, they're just like fragments of (real) life itself --- memories you can't erase. That's just how I feel about you these days. It's funny how I can always see you with my eyes closed. But then, I know that when I open them again, you'll be long gone and all I can only see around me is just the (real) world without you. It's like seeing a mirage in the desert under a scorching sun, or feeling overly cautious with the lurking shadows under your own feet in the dead of the night. Oftentimes, you're left all alone just to wonder: Is it really there, or your own, evil side of mind just playing mean tricks on you? Many nights I've seen you in my dreams. I don't even know if I could still recall those as sweet ones or even...nightmares. I can't barely tell the difference anymore. All I often notice is that sweet smile on your face, just like the photographs you've shown me. However, there's something else in your eyes that I just can't quite describe. It sends strange shivers down my spine and makes time stand still. I know I can feel you close, but --- ironically --- we're also worlds apart. Somehow, the ugly distance always forms itself into transparent, invisible walls between us --- taking away the strength on my feet to even try to move forward. I guess that's why I'm always afraid to reach out and touch you, knowing that somehow --- one way or another --- I'll simply wake up again anyway to find that you're not even really there at all. So, what's the point? They see me as merely a breathing, walking fool. No true idealists nor romantics can live forever, for they're never really connecting with reality. That's what they all believe about me. In the end, I'll just keep hurting myself even more and more than before. They think getting over you is easy, after loving you truly, madly, deeply (and desperately, yikes!) for years. They think it's like a walk in the park on a sunny day with your dog, or changing trends in fashion. Well, what do they really know? Personally, I'm glad they're not standing in these shoes. I'm not sure mine will ever fit. I'm not even sure they can take it. I know, I'm being awfully sarcastic again. I know they care and only mean well, eventhough they don't (can't or even won't) understand. Oh, well. I'm really asking for way too much, aren't I? Maybe I'm actually just a living myth to you. I've been your true best friend, a cheerful pixie who loves singing you a lullabye just to help you sleep better at night. A lonely fairy who owns an isolated castle, always letting its doors open for your wretched, restless soul to enter and seek solace in it. I actually don't mind, though, as long as I can make you smile and just be happy again. But perhaps, I often forget my own imperfections as well. They wonder why I'm still playing this so-called superhero character, knowing I'm just an ordinary girl. My wish to save and protect you from such awful heartache has somehow caused me to forget my own emotional scars --- and gradually cost me my sanity. It's funny how love can still make you believe that nothing can ever really break you, because you're strong enough to take any of it. In the end, I'm still left with my own helplessness --- all by myself. I'm only human. My wings to fly and magic wand are only make-believe. This is not a fairy-tale with a happy-ending, and I'm not a silly little girl anymore. This is not child's play. I bleed just the same. Do you know that place between asleep and awake? I believe it's where you remember all your dreams. Sweet, sour, and bitterness are stirred in the melting pot. Blinding lights in the city at night or colourful blobs of pedestrians and speeding vehicles in the daytime. Children's laughter versus ear-shattering arguments. A lonely soul among the cheerful crowd. A quiet girl pondering at a noisy room from the corner. Is there something wrong with this picture? Do you know the place between asleep and awake? Well, guess what? It's where I am now, silently praying to our God to help us wake up to a more comforting reality. The Author | ||
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