i'm not sure if i can do this.
i'm not sure if i can throw myself back into the rigour of school life and start out fresh and new.
i really don't know what is wrong with me. everything seems to be... lagging in me. like i'm moving through water.
and i keep writing random things that don't fit. they're all scribbles and when i'm not paying attention to what i'm doing. and suddenly i look down at my paper or sms and i see words that i don't even remember thinking.
but it's never going to be a fresh start. it's always going to be cast in shadow now. and i'm going to have to live with that.
be strong, be like vicky austin. chose the light.

i seem to be wondering a lot about the things i gave up.
yes, it's the "what if" questions
and most of them are the things i gave up because of this, what shall i call it?
problem? no.
inability? not quite.
barrier, chasm, blockage? erm, no.
heartbreak. but no, i don't want to call it that either.

i gave up a possible chance at love, in fear of another heartbreak.
i gave up the freedom of expression in the performing arts, because i no longer wanted to espress the things that bothered me; i just wanted to bottle them up.
i gave up my art - a subject, a form of expression, a past-time and once a joy - when the emotions finally took over and drowned me out of inspiration.
and now i want that all back.
i want to be who i once was,
i want to be what i once was,
i want to be where i once was.
i missed being called those things - a leader, an artist, a confident, out-spoken and proactive member.
but life doesn't knock you down so that you can be bitter and weep. it knocks you down so you can build yourself back up to where it wants you to be; where it needs you to be.
i know that was where i was supposed to be. i just don't know how to get back

Don't know much about your life.
Don't know much about your world, but
Don't want to be alone tonight,
On this planet they call earth.

You don't know about my past, and
I don't have a future figured out.
And maybe this is going too fast.
And maybe it's not meant to last,

But what do you say to taking chances,
What do you say to jumping off the edge?
Never knowing if there's solid ground below
Or hand to hold, or hell to pay,
What do you say,
What do you say?

I just want to start again,
And maybe you could show me how to try,
And maybe you could take me in,
Somewhere underneath your skin?

What do you say to taking chances,
What do you say to jumping off the edge?
Never knowing if there's solid ground below
Or hand to hold, or hell to pay,
What do you say,
What do you say?

And I had my heart beaten down,
But I always come back for more, yeah.
There's nothing like love to pull you up,
When you're laying down on the floor there.
So talk to me, talk to me,
Like lovers do.
Yeah walk with me, walk with me,
Like lovers do,
Like lovers do.

What do you say to taking chances,
What do you say to jumping off the edge?
Never knowing if there's solid ground below
Or hand to hold, or hell to pay,
What do you say,
What do you say?

Don't know much about your life
And I don't know much about your world

please don't tell me, it's not worth fighting for.
i just want you to hold me,
tell me it's gonna be okay.

you can't miss someone you've never known, can you?
i don't think you can love someone so much that it replicates that feeling of missing someone.
so it must have been my 4 year old self, trying to make up for the lost time, those lost moments that were snatched away from us; trying to imagine your reaction when i cried, picturing you holding me up, or at least looking at me and remarking on our similarities, seeing a smile spread out across your face - a face i don't even know.
but you weren't there.
and you weren't smiling
and you weren't even sane enough to see me,
were you?
somehow i don't want to know the answer to that question.
how thick is blood? i ask you.
it is thick enough, thick enough.

30

i'm just so confused.

now i'm just wallowing. not in self-pity, but in murky water. the memories are like the little particles that swirl about me, and i can't hold on to them, i can't reach out and grab them without disturbing the water even more. yet, they surface and they sink, even those that i thought i had long buried beneath me. now i find myself recalling with such painstaking detail and accuracy the days leading up to her departure.

i shouldn't have read a ring of endless light, troubling a star and then the bell jar in such quick succession. i should have waited for the first two to rightfully sink in, like the always do, before deciding to move on so quickly. those two books mean so much to me. it's frightening. it's almost as though someone borrowed incidents from my life and wove them into a book, before they could even happen.
but the books teach me more than i could possibly have learnt on my own.
yes, there is vanity in a certain sort of kindness. it is the kindness that believes one can heal all hurts. there is vanity as there is naivety. vanity, because you believe that you could possibly be able. and naivety because you think that like all fairy tales, this will have a happy ending. but there is no ending. perhaps, as beneatha from a raisin in the sun would yell in anguish, that it is merely a circle that well all march around in, with our own little mirage of what we call the future. but then again, asagai corrects her by saying it is merely a very long line, as in geometry that reaches into infinity. if that were so, then it would be no better than the circle. for it would never end. and there would never be peace.
i do not believe in circles or lines. i do not believe our universe and our lives can be defined by complex formulae and geometric patterns. but i do believe it is more like nature. like the trees that strive and struggle for survival. in its twists and turns of fate, it will grow, it will flourish, it will thrive and be nourished. but it will also bend and break and it will wither "trees do bend/ though straight and tall/ so must we to others' call" but we will always grow dependent on the sun for life and vigour to face the day. that is why we have God.
"here is the deepest secret nobody knows/ (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud/ and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows/ higher than the soul can hope or the mind can hide)/and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart."
but i am still confused. torn between being like beneatha or like vicky.
i shouldn't have read them in december. the month of the anniversary. the first anniversary. i wonder what we will do on that day. i should like to be alone for those days. yes, the silence will do us good.

sometimes i feel like i'm drifting. and i'm not even sure in what direction.
take the analogy of a boat in a stream. the water now is finally calm. it's not rushing and meandering and pushing and pulling all at the same time anymore. just in one slow but tranquil direction.

but i'm not so close to my faith now. it's not as bad as it sounds; i still go to church every week, say my prayers and stuff. but i don't turn to God for all the good things as well as the bad. when i was grieving it was like i clung on hard, almost like how a little child would to a parent when they don't want to be put down; like a cripple needs a crutch. maybe part of me didn't realise how down i was that's why it seems terrible that i'm not longer talking to God almost 24/7. i used to talk to Him about everything like a best friend butnow it's like i don't always remember him when i'm having such a great time. i'm distracted. urgh. i don't know how to put it into context.

i can't do this, please, God no.
i can't go through it all over again.
i can't take it, please, i'm begging you
i won't make it through if... things, go bad.
please, Jesus, please

it's been about ... 3 month since the king of pop's departure from this weary world and i would just like to say

Thank you for the music, michael.
the world will always love and miss you;
and you will always be the King of Pop, Rock & Soul.

May God bless your family in their grief.

how much can you love a person.
a person you've never met, add that.
how much can you miss someone
a someone you've never known, even
how much can you cry at night
over someone who knows nothing of you
but that you cry,
you weep,
you poor little thing,
for someone you always thought you knew.