back and forth

[methrowrock]

It is late at night and my heart has grown heavy from the harvesting of thoughts once again. The same old situation: pressing deadlines, imaginary red-tape drawn across the room, books and notes strewn about the floor, but somehow, the mind finds a crack to slip niftily out of. Fuck, I'm such a kid, to be giving into the slightest whims and fancies. On other days, I would long-windedly justify this to be an endearing quirk, but tonight, the brick wall seems like a nice place to acquaint my head with. Dualisation of human nature, the eternal battle between the rational mind and the impulsive body, hardeehaha, might as well slot in a tiny bit of Durkheim to create a veneer of scholastic respectability. If only I attacked essays with such enthusiasm and shamelessness. Pah. Today, the snark is going to sound like wry humour; tomorrow, I will shrivel up inside at sounding like the biggest narcissist. Some friends have asked me why I keep most of my posts public, and it usually takes me a while to answer. Because the selection of the paths of the least resistance on usual days still accumulates tension that has to be released somewhere. Because where and when else will I have the courage and ability to articulate my stand? Because it is cathartic to let it all hang out and have nothing to hide. Because it is a way to forcibly organize my thoughts. Because there are few people reading this and it seems like a talk-to-my-own-hand exercise. Because I like playing with words and moulding them into sentences, and this space is a personal exhibition of the grotesque creations that would have no space elsewhere. #rootfortheunderdog! Because it would be delightful if they were acknowledged or inspired a sense of identification in others. Okay, so maybe I am the biggest narcissist. Argh. D: There are worse evils than that.. right? Even then, there is a dilemma of wanting and not wanting to say too much. Because to expose is to be vulnerable and to fall headlong into an abyss of uncertainty, anticipation, and potential judgments. That is why people guard their secrets and lock their hearts away, especially at the ~harbour of love~. Days can be spent waiting and waiting for responses and reactions; the tautening of heartstrings, the slackening of mindstrings. Then, there is the why-the-fuck-should-they-know reason too, which is really relevant and hence, I shall ignore it. Hahahhaa. Because uh, this is the time to make mistakes, to go why-not for every why-the-fuck, to paint caution rainbow-bright with the wind. It is always the time for that. Hearts weren't made to be kept pretty in glass jars; they pulsate for a reason. Just live, just love, just like. Oh, but it is a tough mantra to adhere to. It is so much easier to keep your heart close, and mind, closed. There is less to lose, more to surprise and intrigue, that way. And we all know how people need to be always interesting in this era of information overload.

Anyway, the Writer's Block segment asked a thought-provoking question today. "Write an apology to someone you've hurt in the past" Having spent much of my life siam-ing conflict and issuing equivocal remarks, it took me a while to remember the worst thing I ever said. More often than not, it is the absence of feeling, of desire, of intention, that hurts the most. I wish I could tack it under adolescent folly, but no. I am sorry. But of what use will it be here? Nein, I will show it with actions, starting with, going back to the essay. Ah, yes.

Comments

[methrowrock.livejournal.com]

hahahahahhaa sheesh, am i that predictable? but naww, i'm genuinely moved ok, especially when it comes to compliments like these. man, you sound like you just took a happy pill. must be the mention of nathan + noctis at one shot HAHA. wah sieh song. wa ga gi paiseh nia! sama sama la, wa eh peng yew!