They strut with their skinny asses and skanky clothes down the malls when you were too busy pouring over your books and meticulously counting numbers so that the A's will be in your hands. Sometimes you come across pictures of them with boys (entirely too close) getting drunk in clubs or some party where their rosy pink cheeks (thanks to the alcohol) and beautifully startling features still stand out amidst the drunken stupor and lost decencies. In school, they have the best stories to tell - escapades, adventures, dirty jokes, jokes, latest trends and boyfriend problems - and we, the nerdy lifeless ones stare listlessly, half listening to their droning, half wishing we were that brazen or gutsy. Sometimes i wish i had the courage to go up to the guy i like and ask if he would like to go out with me, like what those girls would do - just for kicks. But now i look back, and laugh at the silliness, at the impermanency. So what if those girls were the life of the party or did things nobody else was doing - smoking, drinking, flings - all of that come down to nothing now, they are dust, ashes, on a hill of forgotten life, in an abandoned chapter. We have all move on. And for the rest of us, so called nerds in high school, we are still moving on, still pouring over books and stuffs like that with a purpose, a dream, a vision - but those popular girls? Where are they now?

♥

I felt a little lost, recently. Can't really say when the feeling started. I didn't keep tabs. But it feel like a slow song, one that you enjoy at the beginning and then it gets draggier and draggier until you feel like just switching the whole track to something else, something a little more different and more vibrant - something that is able to take you someplace else.

I want to feel alive. I want to feel excitement bustling through my veins, life stories of others come alive in my own- i don't want two dimensional pictures of white papers inked with faded black words. Don't want minds to be crusted with distractions and hammered with heavy, substantial knowledge that sometimes make us lose sight of the things that matter. Knowledge has a way of doing that to us; seeping into our nerves, making us want more so that we are drunken with it - the rest fades away.

I don't want to be taken for granted.

I also noticed (on this boring Saturday, because i make it so) that i have been blogging more about the boyfriend, and i wonder to myself, if we are going to last or it will just be another chapter in our lives where we both go..."oh yea, i used to date him, it was alright". but what is the line between alright and fuckamazing? i can say i love you's in a dozen different ways and you, too in your own ways show me how naked and bare i can be but at the end of the day, how do we know for a certainty this love story would end with a happy ending, or a i-never-want-to-see-you again?

that's the beauty of it no? We will never know; not because we don't want to, but because we can't. it's an elusive creature, the ending. and i am beginning to realise that. i have this habit of mine where i read the ending of a book first, before proceeding to the beginning, the middle. i will not be able to read in peace without the knowledge of the ending. thats how i peruse the last book of harrypotter, lordoftherings, all the books that i have come to love or those that had dissipated into the realm of unfulfilled satisfaction. at first, i wanted badly to discover the ending of this love story. but of course, in vain. i am not God - i am not planning to be one.

perhaps that's why we -both women and men- are inherently jealous, hurtful, obsessive, possessive, insecure and all the negative (lets put aside the positive for now) emotions that we seem to own. the ending is lost on us. Imagine, if you know that Mr. A would be the one you marry, the one you will throw tantrums at, have kids, and grow old in that disgusting sweet manner that old couples usually do, would you be going through the ups and downs of a relationship? The one where you wonder and ponder if he loves you as much you love him, or if he sees you in the light of how you see him? Mr. B, C, D wouldn't make a difference, no? You, already know. Note the paltable difference.

I can imagine his reaction. But oh, shush. I am beginning to learn that life is not always bout the ending and that each moment - in its own place and time- has its significance, and honestly, i don't like being in the dark but i am starting to appreciate the nows, and not wonder about the unknown future anyways. Of course, i falter from time to time and sometimes i get pissed off with my own incapabilities to control my train of thoughts like how perhaps his past lovers are better than me in more ways than one and how i don't fulfill his needs or make him unhappy or sad(wtf they're synonyms)...but cut to the point, i love him, and i am in love, this emotion is new and daunting and yet exhilarating at the same time, and the point, the point is, i love him and that should be all that matters. That we both love each other at this very moment.

21 guns

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.
-Elie Wiesel

You can pretend to forget, for a while, for as long as possible and you can pretend to not care about the history of mankind, dismiss it as unimportant or unrelated to today's life (how mistaken you are) but when it comes down to it, history is who we were a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade, a century ago and history, is who we are today, as an individual, a family, a community, a country, a race.

Overture to a Celebration; Gurney

Polaroid shots. It is a scary thing, the past; its ability to teleport someone/anyone brings forward the yesterdays - tears and laughter, sadness and happiness, hurt and elation all rolled into one, undifferentiated - in an instance. Perhaps, things could have been different. But of course, the word 'things' do not begin to encompass the lives lived. Possibly, events could have been dissimilar, outcomes altered if actions and thoughts were diametrical. But no, we chose our paths and some of us live to regret the choices made, while others, found a brighter, more fulfilling path. But no matter what happened, or how we wish to go back (or not) to the past, it is but a vain hope and humankind should celebrate its mistakes (no matter how tragic) and learn something from them. We are intellects not because of our idleness after all. As for today, the past hovered in the air, its resonance rung loud and clear in my ears, but i am unaffected, unblemished, untainted - for i have left that place a long time ago. I have found my happiness, my reason to believe again.

Love. There are moments where you feel so bare and naked, it is as if the world has seen you through your bones and there is nothing left to be marveled and wondered at. The intensity of this vulnerability is inexplicable not because the wrong words are chosen to represent this emotion, but because no amount of words could put it to justice. There are moments in love where you give a part of yourself to that other person. How does he handle it, is entirely up to him. You have no control over his choice of actions, no hold in what he is thinking. And vulnerability seeps in. You give this secret part of your soul to him, expecting a clandestine protection. The incessant talks of others do not matter anymore. The hype and speculation of outsiders do not matter anymore. At that moment, only you and he exist. Only you and he understand this sacred connection that nobody else is able to penetrate. But what happens when he spits your trust right back at your face? When gestures are no longer strings of romance and reverence, but one of pitfalls that showcase contempt and forgotten love? When love shows her sinister side and cut us with her sharp edges, do we falter or impenetrate ourselves? It is not easy; this affair of multiple facets, but it doesn’t have to be hard either. At the end of the day, it is the choices we make that staple our thoughts and perceptions, our actions that allow us to learn and eventually grow and move on to a different medium of thoughts. Love? Love is only a small part of it. Love, is every part of it.

7.30pm

Perhaps i have changed into somebody i don't really like. Caring and knowing about things that don't really matter, wasting my time on moments that flicker by like shots taken by a pair of hands that do not understand photography. I want my Polaroid moments back. Moments that no matter how short or infrequent they are, make me feel like this life is worth living. That perhaps it is not mere coincidence we are all here at the same place and time, that perhaps we are meant for greater things if we realise the potential in us and the chances given to us. Yet, this emotion in me, this nonchalance is eating me up from the inside and instead of doing anything to stop the mess from overflowing, i do nothing, feel nothing, hope for nothing.

Where i am heading with this baggage?
No.
Things have got to change.