The Meaning of Writing

I couldn't even think of where to start, when I question myself what it means to write here, now. For obvious reasons, I started on this perpetual routine of writing a record of my random thoughts at the presence to remind myself what crossed my unfathomable psychological conscience. But ever thought of just what, exactly, is taking place and is it worthy of attention? Should I deny myself of this impulsive urge to post a string of pragmatical sentences which derived from perhaps a unimportant figure such as myself, will anything change?

Yes.

An idea is only a whim of conjured thoughts restricted to yourself if you are unable to present or share it. Describing it in a more comprehensive term; useless. An idea is not perfect at its birth, it needs to be molded by intervening minds which is cynically trying to destroy it. Only by persevering through such irony will it be deemed 'useful'. And how, exactly, are we able to do it? We write it out. Its a form of record for the development of conjugated thoughts, condensing from languid wisps of uncertainties to a solid wall of logic defeating the orthodox. Remember that writing, even if its just a simple diary, is the trajectory path to the birth of something impressive.

Now, a fool will read the surface and leave it be while the wise will reach out for the depth.

Does writing serves only technical purposes? No, my dears, definitely not. Right now at this exact moment, I am writing out what serves a bigger purpose than the former mentioned, and has definitely more to it than meets the eye. Writing is actually a sanctified time for the writer where he or she can confront themselves. As words from yourselves appear in front of you, you are actually reading from what is within yourselves. No one else can truly engage the sentiments imbued into these little symbols replacing speech but the writers themselves. When the finishing touch has been laid, you will see a piece of yourself manifesting within these scratches and scribbles. These are your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions; a little piece of you. And like all parents are proud of their child, writers, too, will relief in marvel of his own piece. Though, such feelings are entirely personal and unperceived by any others.

A post for myself...

To think that I haven't any idea how to start a blog, is despicable. One of those times, again. The single passing moment when a gazillion module of thoughts just cascaded into your head, drowning you in a few seconds of blissful thoughts, then came the crashing despair that you can't seem to hold on to any one of it. Speaking of a leaking sandbox, impromptu memories and merry times tags the trickling sands of time as well; the next second its all gone.

So what happened, exactly? The putrid miasma that lingered around my wake had elevated for the last few days...Its a contrast of priorities, and of what we hold dear. Even in escape, there is no solace for the weak of heart. Pain follows. Knowing it and having it thrown at your face is two different things, where the latter can shed a ludicrous amount of tears bore from the eyes of the former's beholder.

Run, even the heaviest heart could not weight me down, for I'm a coward that's had enough of dubious dreams.

No one knew, no one will...

3 Drops Away...

The rain had passed, leaving a hazy drizzle of moist in the air. Inhales bring with it a calm soothe that creeps all the way to the heart, assimilating purity with the putridity within myself. Yes, cleanse me please, for unknown to anyone I am rotting from within.

*Drop

*Sigh. Ironic. What came from the serenity blessed by the heavens, is breathed out with despair. Just one droplet falling from the heavens, marked the time it takes for my life to return to solemnness. A shiver down my spine tells me something is drawing near.

*Drop

Something just clenched myself tightly from within. Ouch. It seems so familiar, yet so distant. Oh yes, its the piece of Me I tried to throw away. Now its back, claiming from me the price of ignorance. It is trying to remind me that I can't dismiss of Him, forever. Because He and I
are of the same flesh and blood.

*Drop

Nothing has changed. I'm back where I started, shrouded in what's seemingly a lifetime bond with this foul knave I brought upon myself. Now I know, He is something I have to carry for the rest of my life. Moving on, like people had done, is not possible; for I had only managed to walk 3 drops away...

The Closest Stranger

To me, Love is like a waltz,
holding you in my arms lovingly, steps along each others,
not letting go, till the end of it all.

Loving you is like music,
When I found one that I'm fond of, I will repeat it,
refusing to miss even a second of it,
and I let it repeats,
until another one take its place.

To Wait, is blissful,
and I even told you,
that I will Wait forever.

But Waiting is ever painful and tiring.

One of the greatest Pain in the world,
is to see my heart wither and shatter.

Yet, piece by piece, I mend them back,
unknown to anyone.

I Shall Wait No More.

For I have learned to Let Go.

With a slight hint of pain, you say
I Don't Love You.

But, You Do Not Know

Behind my Cruelty,
is my desire to give you happiness,
that is to set you Free.

My Tears,
fall on your footprints as you leave,
so that I can Hide them from your eyes.

Like shadows during sunset,
our Distance grows ever longer.

I thought that I can Forget,
only to realize I'm lost in Memories of you.

Occasionally, it Hurts.

Occasionally, I Cry.

Living in memories of you,
I can only learn how to Disguise,
cover everything in beautiful Lies.

My Heart can't let you go.

I tried,
Throwing you out of my heart.

But in the end,
I Returned in tears to pick you up again.

Everyday, in silence, I still Care about you,
hidden from all eyes.

We both know, that our paths will Never Cross Again.
Like parallel tracks, getting Further Away from each other.

We can never be friends, for we had Hurted each other.

Never be enemies, for we had Loved each other.

We can only be,
the Closest Strangers.

This stranger that Miss You so much,
can only Pray That You Will Smile.

~Cherish Time To Love~

*This is a translated piece.

Stand and Walk

Chill around the cafeteria at campus, watch others pouring in and out. In a glimpse, their life seems so peaceful. Perhaps. Stresses can be seen along the lines of some spent faces, joy as illuminating as neon lights from their smile, sadness so deep it drown colors from their eyes, an air of emptiness so blatant they might be lost. But whatever it is they are feeling at the moment, it didn't stop them from walking around the place. The wonders and pain, of taking another step forward.

During the better days, all you can do is cry. In a few months, you had learned to crawl. By the age of one, you are already trying to stand. What comes next is us trying to start running from a wobbly standing posture. Weak as we are before, we were still determined to achieve what we desire. Falling flat on our arses, knocking the air out of ourselves, crying out loud, returning to the start of this routinized module; we try again.

There was once when I brought great joy to myself and everyone around me; I can finally stand and run into the arms of my parents.

Now here we are, forgetting what it meant and cost ourselves just only by standing here. People around me, old and matured enough to break their parent's hearts, forgetting how we learn to stand. They are crying, endlessly, lost like a baby, refusing to stand again, waiting for others to lift them up in comfort, just like those whose very heart they've broken had did in the past. It is a sad thing to even know exists.

Never stop walking forward. Take your time. Wipe your tears. Lift your head. Grope through the dark when the light is out. You don't need a reason, nor a destination. Just walk and accept what comes in front. Then perhaps, once again, you can bring joy to this miserable world.

Time-Killing Post

As of late, passing days had been of a grueling mess. Like many of my peers around me, we're bounded by similar...problems (for lack of a better noun) that seems so new in this stage of our growth: studies, relations, looks, money, dreams, sleep (cheers people, for this one scores high). An d being no better than an average fool lurking around this pathetic world, I'm not spared. Have my fair share of the aforementioned...distractions...the way I see it. And does not has the privilege of saying I can handle them any better than anyone. And the way I am bothered by it these days, most probably I'm among the very worst.

I have a very proud way of solving things. Been there since I-don't-know-when, but I've been ever increasingly reluctant to accept help from others. I'd rather fail hard and painfully by myself than to admit I should have asked. Truth be said, the 'pride' comes from the fact that I'm able to stand up and declare I've learned a precious experience on my own. Was. Not anymore. Brought upon my conscience is the fact that I've been falling deep into certain matters and is now too late to heave myself out of the abysmal depth. A friend's quote "If you trip over it then you can stand again, but if you fall for it then it is forever." Nice. How bizarre it is that one thing affects another even when its non-related.

Spawned from the habit of not sharing, comes the price of non-empathy. When others no longer know what is hurting you, they unintentionally (for the sake of remaining optimistic) bring it up in front of you, casting me deeper into the pit I dug.

If sleep is ever a problem, I can say that the only thing I love about that is I can temporarily block out the world, sometimes.

Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs

Hey Snow White, do you remember? It was us who took you in when you were lost in the forest. During your darkest hours, when you were abandoned, helpless, weak, and unsecured, we took it up on ourselves to make sure these mentioned demons retreat.

We are a group of people unpleasant to the eyes, but you know very well how much compassion we can share. You, who is the green in the eyes of all humans, brought joy and light to our dull and repetitive days, taught us how beautiful life can be even for people like us. We swore to ourselves, that we will let no harm come to you as long as one of us still breathes.

We have failed.

For though we have hearts rivaling a battalion of knights, our flesh is still of a group of short little men. What we did was what we could. So is it enough?

That is for you to answer.

But you don't have to tell us, for in the blink of an eye it didn't matter anymore.

Prince Charming came, and it seems that he was the one that you've always been waiting for. The beautiful smile on your face equals a million words. Go. That is where your "happily ever after" lies.

Now we have returned to our lives before you came. We thought we did.

We didn't.

Every time we look around, we see memoirs of your presence. We had come to learn about joy and love, learned that our lives before you were miserable, that you are a our precious princess. And now finally, we learned that life without you is the true meaning of pain.

But we are aware of our destiny: As the seven dwarfs, we are not meant to be part of your 'happily ever after', but only to keep it alive and write about it...