Keep the Goal in Mind

You keep telling yourself that you're stronger than you think you are, until you don't doubt it for a second; and beyond that moment, nothing else really matters.

Tough Times

I'm sorry to disappoint, and I'm sorry I can't be that person you expect me to be right now. I know you have your troubles, but to do this I have to be this person I am now. Please forgive me for now, because I promise that someday I'll be that person you've always thought I'd become.

Laser

As I stared out into town, littered with majestic skyscrapers, I saw many offices still lit on a Sunday night.

I know I'm not in any position to give much of an opinion about working our asses off instead of doing what we truly want to do, because I'm guilty of it. I've never been afraid to admit that I chose this course because it was a 3-year programme, and that I wanted to get over and done with studies as soon as possible to start working. We may all hold different ideals on what our life at this stage should play out to be; some want to enjoy the last mile of student life, absorbing the full vitality of youth embedded in uni life, some want to start conducting their own business, get some experience and hopefully earn some income, while others want to use this time of adolescence to discover themselves and transit into mature adults. Most people, at this point in their life, probably already have their goals and dreams figured out. It's sad to say I haven't.

I read on an article that one trait of successful people is their laser-beam focus on their goals. Some may call it obsession, but I'd like to call it dedication. In our society, the inability to multi-task is generally unfavourable. Scholarships require you to have stellar academic and co-curricular achievements at the same time. Jobs demand the handling of multiple accounts at any one time. Family, friends and lover all want a piece of you. It seems that a diverse array of commitment has become the expectation of us in the modern world, and fixating on something with laser-like focus rarely seems to be as highly regarded as before. I did observe, though, that more than often, to be good at anything does require an unwavering commitment to it. How then, are we to conform to societal demands and stay focused at the same time?

It's approximately a week away from finals, and I can see everyone upping the ante of dedication. I start my days at 7 a.m., and end at around 2 a.m., stretching it as much as I can. I do ask myself what we're all doing this for, but I always arrive at the conclusion that we have no other choice. Uni life is honestly overrated. I don't think everyone agrees, but I don't intend to listen to the arguments to the contrary. It's sad how I haven't really connected to anyone in school yet; a real, genuine sort of affiliation that I can expect to carry on for years to come. It almost feels like I have let strangers walk in and out of my life without much regard. Perhaps I haven't been putting myself out on the line as I should have, or that I'm too boring for anyone to want to consider any sort of affiliation.

I've never felt so lethargic before. In times like this I need more strength than I can surmount, more support than I can offer, and more affection than I deserve. I'm not sure if I can take this, but if I do survive, I know I've grown stronger.

I'll push through it.

But I don't really have a choice, do I?

Watch Your Life Play Out

I'm sure if we all had another shot at life, we probably would've chosen a different path, a different destiny, or a different past. It would seem pretty tempting to wipe the slate clean, especially when we think about all the mistakes we've made thus far. But what would your answer be, if say, given a choice to restart, erases everything that has happened in your life till today, regardless the good times or bad ones? If we could live another life, a life so perfect in our eyes, what, then, is stopping us? Despite of all the resentment we had or have for our lives, I'm not so sure that everyone of us want that flawless slab of rock. The current point, at any point in time, will always be a starting point if you let it be. Let yourself start something new today, and make a change that you always wanted to see in you. It will take time, but it will all be worth it.

As I write this paragraph, I coincidentally chance upon the magical 11:11, sitting here plugged in to slow acoustic music, and letting the day stop in this moment for awhile and absorb my senses. I had an effusion yesterday that I can't seem to get over. It'll probably take awhile to sink in, but meanwhile I will allow it to manifest itself without restraint. We often let ourselves be too comfortable with numbness that we sometimes fail to pause for our feelings. In this part of the world we live in, everything is fast. Morning smiles are a rarity, and so are compliments. The place is hot, but its people are cold.

I used to be extremely particular about the environment I am in when I'm writing, but have recently learned to forego that peeve arising from a cacophonous surrounding. I maintained that to capture the right emotions in my expressions, I needed a "conducive" environment, though what constituted to conducive I was not all that certain. But I was wrong. I didn't need serenity or tranquillity; at least not in the surroundings. I needed it in my heart, in the spirit, where everything would halt so precisely for me to explore everything around the newly created black-hole within. How can I be so at peace if I've never been there before? I thought I hadn't, but I know I have when I let music take over my senses. It unlocks so many secrets, and it unwinds so many feelings. Pensive, all of a sudden. Rationality takes a rest and emotions seem to take control.

May this bliss repeat forever.

Talk To Me

I have every reason to be ecstatic today, because I finally got my long-overdue driving license. I remember taking lessons since 2 years ago when I first started out this blog, and here I am now, after a hideous number of failed attempts, a certified driver. But I'm not here to celebrate that. I am here because something else struck me on my journey home today - a father-to-son conversation I haven't had in a long, long time.

This is probably the first place I'd come to when I need to let my feelings out. The only other therapy I've known to work is the guitar and sad songs, but that wasn't enough. This needs more. This needs words. This needs literary expression.

Perhaps I've been blinded by my own selfishness for too long, or that I've been hiding in my own silo for ages. I have never concerned myself much with my family issues because we were raised to not question about how things work in here. We never had to worry, frankly. But as I grew older, I realised we were never making ends meet. I learned today the kind of finances we have - my parents have, for that matter - and I instantly hated myself for not being capable enough to support them. It pains me to know that they have never stopped working, just because they had to. They had to wait for us to grow old enough to support ourselves.

A few weeks ago in town, I wanted to head over to my father's workplace for some coffee, but I didn't. Because as I was approaching his workplace, I saw him sitting at a table alone, eating his dinner in silence. I don't know why but at that time I felt a surge of emotions overcome me, and for that moment I had no words but a towering sense of grief. The tears were imminent, so I thought, but alas, I reigned them back. It was a particularly melancholic sight for me to endure, but I did.

I remember how this cold war started, but the truth is I don't know how to end it. I've been estranged for too long for anybody to care for me. I don't know what other ways to love them than to not burden them any more than they can already bear. I wish I had an answer, but I don't. I wish someone would teach me how, but there's no one. I wish there was another way, but there isn't. There are a million things that are going through my mind now; a huge swirling mess of concerns and other things to worry about. On top of that is my hatred for my extravagant lifestyle, my aloof attitude, and my lack of sensibility. I haven't been acting like I should, or fulfilled what I could. Instead, I am the exact opposite. I do all the things I shouldn't, and omit the things that I should.

I think I'm in need for a serious HTHT.

Confessions

I have been procrastinating my posts recently. I write considerably less, but not because I feel much less, but because I've been excusing myself from writing. I started off wanting to pen down my emotions for fear of losing whatever semblance of sanity in myself, and to record the many musings that might have been fleeting but made absolute sense at the point of their manifestation. To write lesser means that some thoughts of mine were lost in clouds of hazy uncertainty, and probably will never be restored to the time they were conjured. But like I mentioned, I never stop feeling, and perhaps it's an eccentric nature of mine, but I seem to live every other moment thinking about something else if I am not already affixed on whatever is in front of me. I just enter into a zone where thoughts wandered and feelings were true, almost to a point where you could feel the sensation of things and events coming into realisation.

Someone who used to read this asked me how long I took to write a post. It was a difficult question to answer, actually. Truth is, I've almost never published a post without proof-reading it. In real terms, it means that I've never allowed my posts to be published with errors. I could have gone back and forth at a sentence for ten times, or more, to try to make sense of it all. I don't know why I do that. Perhaps it's to make sure whoever is reading this can make sense of what I say, but it really doesn't matter, because this was never meant for much reading anyway. It is more like snapshots of different periods of my life and what sort of insanity and idiosyncrasies I've felt at some point.

It seems weird that I am still reading your blog, because I see you right from the start. I see you fall in love, out of it, move on, grow strong, accept a belief, and learn to love again. It's not like I've deliberately tried to follow your footsteps, but I have to admit that I'm somehow periodically drawn to your life. There is a mesmerising attraction to it; or maybe it's just that not many people can vividly capture their life moments in words like you can, or encapsulate feelings in writing in a graceful yet comprehensive manner like you do. Or perhaps, simply, you are the only one I know who lasted this long in the endeavour of keeping a diary. It's almost uncanny how I think about the same things as what you express, a sense of deja vu. Despite everything that has changed, I feel like there is much certainty in what I feel, but you might have moved faster than I ever could. It's funny how we used to joke about being siblings, but never really doubted it.

This might be longer than usual because certain things have been stuck with me for quite a period of time now, and it seems only fair to release them here when I still remember them. Recently I've learned to come to terms with my flaws, after suppressing them for as long as I can imagine. It's never easy to admit your flaws, but I take it that acknowledging them is the first step to overcoming them, and hence I choose to take this stride. Amongst other morbid habits that may not be exhaustive, I identified a few that permeated my daily existence. Firstly, I learned that I'm very much an introvert; not in extremity, but indubitably one. I purport happiness because I felt that it was unfair for people to feel otherwise. But I know I'm not happy, and that means lying to myself. Right now I can't really figure what makes me happy, or what will, and that is potentially the reason I sometimes feel incredibly lost yet rooted. Secondly, I learned that I do have certain issues with controlling my emotions. To be someone who feels endlessly is not entirely bad, but it definitely means that I express my emotions stronger than a normal person would; and this applies to both spectrum of the feeling-o-meter. I say this because a frustration that happened last Friday almost tore me apart, and it reinforces my notion that I feel, and therefore act, too much. I could, or might, have burst out of a tidal wave of annoyance that ensued a rather heated argument. I should say it took me too long to convince you and I lost it. I felt terrible after that. Absolutely horrible. I would've apologise profusely if I could, but it would only make things awkward. A while back someone told me I had anger management issues, and I didn't accept it. In retrospect, I probably did, but was too blind to see it, or too afraid to admit it. Lastly (figuratively), my lack of motivation often takes over me in full swarm and I allow myself to indulge more than I should. I used to pride myself over self-discipline - being able to do things without reminders or supervision - but lately, I don't see that in myself any more. All I see is a dispirited man who can't get his shit together for something he knows is important to him, and surprisingly feeling no guilt on it.

At this point in time I'm just letting my thoughts flow. I usually try to write with coherence but I don't think I'd be overly concerned about that now.

My life has been boring, but I yearn not for drama.
My mind has been wandering, seeking for nostalgia.
Feel the rain fall on your skin,
draining away the feelings within.
Hate the sun when it shines too bright,
but love the rain when it patters so light.
Dream of when it was all too easy,
and sleep in like it was always this cosy.
Inhale the senses so intricate;
feel your body so delicate.
What will all this be with meaning?
Or is this monster not for saving?
Tell me that you can be honest
and stare into my eyes in earnest.
Can you see what I see?