The nights are long and the days, short, when one plunges face-first into the amorphous delirium of having nothing and everything to do. One starts off with the best of intentions: to be better than before, to be different, to be the person that one has always wanted to be. The ember that gives a bright spark and dissipates into the corners, swallowed by darkness. Often most, these are the best times, because they are the most hopeful times. The weeks have been going by most brilliantly, by my incredibly modest expectations, disregarding my inclination to colour sentences with near-absolutes. Training every couple of days, reading fiction and non-fiction at a most leisurely pace, catching up on films that are arms-ful with accolades, reblogging articulate primers to achieve a second-hand sense of self-righteousness, suspending disbelief and rooting for too-perfect Korean leads, grinning foolishly at Arashi and their dorky antics and chalking up their variety shows as language practice, going out with old friends (my favourite kind) occasionally, having the time to take relaxing and long runs while incanting two meagre lines of lyrics I recognise from a popular song. The days feel like a dream. They are carefree and careless, and perhaps, this is what ~they~ say about youth being wasted on the young. But I wouldn't have it any other day. Except, that I would. The divide between who I am and who I desire to be yawns ever-so-audaciously. It is sickening. You know, the existential dissatisfaction that throbs intermittently and casts a shadow upon the most vibrantly-chromatic of memories. Maybe (my favourite word) the present and the latent can never be reconciled fully or even marginally, but. But. BUT. The nights are long and the days, short. Time unrolls itself away from me, as its diaphanous tongue merges with the horizon.
I am crossing you in style someday. Would I be able to discover something by studying people? Got to try somehow. This reeks of self-indulgence, sorry.
On a side note: went for UC Precamp over the weekend, and well, it was a good distraction. Made quite a few new friends in Logres, who are nothing short of warm and nice. It feels good, the process of acquainting oneself with people who have had lives largely tangential to your own. Asking questions, soaking up answers, creating inside jokes, guffawing at the smallest of things, realising coincidences and mutual interests, swapping horror or victory stories. It is fun. People never fail to sparkle. And the experiences and impressions then become food for thought on a rainy afternoon, making the days potentially more interesting. Will they, though? Hmm, I was always a good hope-r.
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