prevent, cure, belong.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

This song is sad. It is beautifully sad, perfectly heartbreaking - resolved by a known incompleteness.


I cannot relate - thank God. But it still makes me sad. I wish to tell you though, that if you didn't loose yourself in the heartbreak of humanity's [sadly frequent] wear&tear, that we'd find somewhere to belong. We will. At least find somewhere, if not create somewhere.

I think... I've just fleshed out the cause I've been irked by because of its blurred identification of, until now.
For a little while lately, I've wanted to do something - to be worth my weight in golden comfort to a devastated and broken world. But I wasn't able to remodel "world peace" into my own words; which I honestly believe you cannot act upon until you've struck the chord in your heart that pains you enough to do/fight/protect accordingly.

So, lets just begin with the rough copy: To build/create/establish a place where the world of misfits (namely, the entire world) could belong, where insecurities could be eradicated by a love, an acceptance, and a scaffold of strengths built upon from learning from peer lovers. Because we are all lovers- we all love. Some: easily, others: exclusively.

Yes, I want to build a house of cure, because usually it is too late to prevent. If generations of resilience are not birthed now - they will never be, since we are as we are taught and imitate examples of those before us. Resilience cannot be out bred - or the world will collapse into suicidal, self-loathing and pity-partying prima donnas.
Smile, love. Smile. It ain't all bad. We'll begin this belonging. You and I...now.

You're exactly what the world needs right now. You and your smile.

"I love you." Thank you, thank you, for reading, for daring to hope, for loving and for being mine. A friend to call mine. Something more than a stranger, and that - that is enough. One could only hope I don't forget the beauty you've introduced to me, in my frequent bouts of self-inflicted depression. I want this to last. I want to be over and done with myself. I want to help you. I want to be a child of resilience.

The beginning. A hope. You.

assured

Call me crazy or arrogant, but I am confident in the happy ending, or one quite contented. The finale of this season is not drenched in tragedy, however strange, it is not all gloom. Thank you, my friend, the director, for giving ear - and whether intentionally or not, rewriting the ending.

the scene played out well and truly sorrowful

My friend, the director, wrote a script to which I cried to.
It wasn't the sort of play that evoked much response at the time or in the beginning. It was cunning though, so that after walking away and having the weight of the wordless script slowing digested, the cold of the main character's temperament caused the deepest anguish. It is, however, still to be continued, and there's a chance it all might end well. Oh God, I hope this ends well.

a lone stranger

Today I went on an adventure that I would probably categorise into three separate adventures. All were miserable.

Because I went on them alone.

They say hungry dogs fight harder. I believe I have, of late, since Saturday. But it is as if my state of mind has been dislocated, sort of, so that a slight shift in thought sends spiteful jolts to remind me of pain; interrupting a once ordinary and usually carefree thought pattern. But I'm trying to re-lodge it, though it throbs and threatens like every man's worst fear. This unwelcome paranoia and sadness should not devour me much longer.

I have a plan.
I also have a new haircut (for the first time in 15months)
I try not to look at my reflections too frequently, lest I become self-absorbed in the incomplete perception I have of myself. Hair is hair! Merely dead cells we resource as an extension of our vanity!

.

What scares me most is the reveal of my actual self- not the physical. God forbid I become ugly via character alone: some selfish creature of distasteful vanity.

.

My hair? Nothing.

won't be long until it's nothing.

You have a tendency to infuriate me.
I doubt you understand.
Yet thoughts about your progress, curiously
Make their way into my land.
I didn't think it'd be me wanting you first. All the best, Musicman.
(I fall too quickly, but I get up just the same.)

courage, my love.

Bravery is something I'm finding really hard to come by. It's not aided by the fact that I have the perseverance of toothpick. But I don't have anyone to be brave for me, that's why I've never been in a relationship, that's why I never will be- until I've laid my own concrete, until I'm strong enough alone.
Romans15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with joy by the power of the Holy Spirit. As feeble as my voice projects this, the truth of it is like a string of diamonds. Saying it over and over, only builds the familiarity of it, until it's etched somewhere convenient.

I'll get through.
As will you.

a note to my invisible readers (if indeed I have any).

It seems negligence has befallen this here canvas. My words have a new container. Not that I endorse the "in with the new, out with the old" paradigm. I like old things, believe me! I think the old establishes a perimeter within which the new is born. But I feel I owe you explanation to why my writings have been scribbled on the new page rather than here. I think it's because the new one is now "open to public" as such (as is this one for those who explore). I have "hidden"myself and vulnerabilities since...forever (or 2005), revealing only to you few who knew this address - usually in riddles and choked sobs, hardly comprehensible. But this urgency to make things known and to do so with fervour has recently infected me. I don't think I have very much time anymore. Sort of like the realisation that I'm dying, because beautifully and thankfully, I am; and the only way to counter this sorrow of deteriorating flesh is to liberate the spirit, and live...just live in the remembrance of love. I like remembering that tomorrow is no promise, because it is a more awkward but solid truth than the assumption of forever. Anyway, my thoughts are not as intimate on the new one, I'll save my deepest sorrows for here. There is no obligation for you to follow both, wahaha, no obligation for you to follow either, I just thought it'd be polite to let you know.

I always hoped to change people with my words (edified by my actions). Because words carry meaning and I want the discovery of mine to influence the lives of- heck, everyone. I don't want to be a mouthful of idle words. I really, truly want to make people question the why's and how's of life. This whole "Christianity thing" is making me reconsider my lukewarm lifestyle.

I stumbled upon a verse that convicted me to the bone this morning, allow me to share:
it is description of one of the kings of Judah:
Amaziah was twenty-five years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem twenty-nine years. His mother's name was Jehoaddin; she was from Jerusalem. He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, but not wholeheartedly. 2Chronicles24:1&2. Read on to learn of his demise.

It's verse two that gripped me, because when I read it, I knew it was describing...me.

Oh yes, so this morning's restless reading reiterated yesterday's Sunday school's verse, which I explained to kids in grade 3 and 4. Since we live by the Spirit, keep in step with the Spirit. Galations5:25. Easy as pie right? Condition yourself to enjoy humble pie sister, or the words you produce will shame you.

Oh God, yes, promises.

what does it come to?

Hello
hello
hello
hello

hello.

What does it mean? what I've done, what I've failed to do?

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

oh yes, I forgot to ask.
Do you like what I did to the place? I think its looks a little further from conservative and a little more like freedom.
I feel a bout of pride coming on- careful. I like it new...how about you?

I have a monotonous habit of making friends awkward.

My paranoia is annoying. You probably think I'm full of myself, but I'm actually pertrified.

I enjoy your company. But if lines are going to be blurred or intentions confused, I suppose I'll just have to not see you for a little while- I was really looking forward to the next occassion too. I don't like being uncomfortable and it happens so incessantly once mentioned, so I won't mention anything. Ugh. Regardless, you're fantastic and your pool of talent is flooding. It's flooding! Just don't drown yourself in it.

Love.

Coward learns to stand.

Face them, you coward. Meet them on the road. Fight them off and don't even let them near. Or just lie down and die because you let them poison you every time you allow them entry to your house. They're coming for me: Mediocrity and Melancholy.

Love. Come. Protect me.

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honour one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. ROMANS 12:9-13

The roses were red
The skies were blue
Til winter rolled in
Now what will you do?

Here's a sobering comment from a distant friend of mine:

"Is the darkness really all that beautiful?"

No, not when you put it like that. I mean, yes there are elements of mystery and a curious infatuation about hiding, about the secrets swallowed by darkness. But there is also a stunning and undoubtedly attractive nature of love in light. Something loudly unashamed and with total disregard for previous insecurities; as if the fears of the past were mercilessly silenced. When the only fears you have are for the ones you are trying to protect, to save, to love, and none concerning your own well being, that's truly noble. That's beauty and that's what I want to be - that sort of beautiful. But maybe later, I heard it's a long and narrow road of many thorns to selflessness (also referred to as: unconditional love). I also heard it's littered with inconvenient searches for courage and forgiveness, not to mention the tiresomely constant communications required to be kept with Superior. I don't have time for that. Maybe later.

Habitual Liar.

What if meaning was worn thin by the excess use of the word it was captured in? What if the words were spoken habitually and somehow, somehow it was only spoken and not meant. What if loving you was now an option and not a commitment? What if I was lying when I told you I did? What if it hurts?

Because I was the only one who said it - who still does. You though, were cunning enough not to contract yourself by your words. But not I, not I. I said them boldly, I said them because each day I said them might have been my last, but I live on, though half the time I wish I didn't.

"Tough times don't last, tough people do."
It's true.

I don't want it to be a lie. I don't want to be the habitual liar. I want to be bigger than this downward spiralling world. I want to be victorious and laugh in the face of adversity. I want not to be slave to my flesh but like those trick birthday candles which don't blow out nearly as easily as any others.

I want to prove to you that good does exist. I want to prove it to myself...because true and solid good seemed only in the beginning chapters of the bible as God described the world before sin.

What I have is good, though what I am is not. This love was given unconditionally to me though my unfaithfulness was foreseen before my existence; therefore hurts dealt my way are incomparable in the slightest.

I love you.
Smile.Breathe.Laugh.Live.Gargle.Swallow.