Today, I crashed

It was probably as good a day as any to crash a car. I crashed our 10year old family car at midday due to driver’s error and illegal activity. Yes... I confess with much shame: I was on my mobile phone. I think I’m just thankful as heck that my carelessness caused no harm to anybody else. I hit a pole. Did you laugh? Did you smirk? I don’t blame you. My carelessness has been a good lesson, sort of one of those occasions we speak of being “only being a matter of time”. What scares me is the curiousity had I not had to face the error of my ways today, if my sliver of conviction regarding the matter would have completely evaporated...

There’s something about the injuring of machines bigger and stronger than you that gently reminds us that being human is no guarantee of invincibility. There. It took about 3 seconds for my eyes to float to my bar of radiation (and for my left over high from the previous night of absolute euphoria) to shrivel like oysters in summer’s sun.

At the time I didn’t think I was so affected. I like to think of myself as a rather resilient and collected character. So I didn’t know how to categorise my emotions or how to recognise most of the symptoms of fear, especially as I wouldn’t usually consider them relevant hours after the incident. Because the fortunate and sheltered life of a middle-upper, living-with-parents twenty-year-old, faces minimal traumatic experiences. And this, this was small. This was no more than the excess of $900 and a week without one of four cars. I saw no casualties, I felt no pain. I only suffering the complaint that the few friends I turned to for emotional comfort/support had reason or another to... not provide sufficient shoulder. But it’s nothing I haven’t already begun to heal and forget. Every little bruise we home on the stretch of our skin fades and is forgotten, because we shed our old skin, little at a time. And forgiveness makes us stronger. I just hope I am a more discerning and understanding friend – though if I'm not, it's no surprise.

If I do have readers on this here canvas of white internet space, they are most probably my friends or people I know who are, likewise: fortunate, sheltered, middle-upper twenty-year-olds.

I want all of you not to use or even pay attention to your phones while driving, it’s dangerous. Secondly, appreciate life on my behalf. Today, I crashed, felt much more sober than I did yesterday; and as vulnerable as any human could, when realising their skins are weaker than composite metals, glass and rubber molds.

i love my God

i actually just want to sleep.
Because today was much emotional and spiritual- sprouted from little anticipation, expectation and a reluctant waking. nonsensical reasoning and lack of fluidity. tired eyes from an hour of despair and chaos and &lazy letters, missing Capitals.

the morrow brings me no hope of securing money wise. all my shifts were cancelled, save the first- which thankfully cannot be undone. but i am somewhat secure of my...self. though my body continues reacting to my torturous mutilation via junk food and fitness ban; and my positioning with different friends becomes confused. i am momentarily steady, and beautifully satisfied...and my both rich and poorness challenges the way in which i think, buy, habitual, nothing and everything.

the less sense i make tonight i intend to justify in dreams.
The night is good.

belonging.

She had lately cut down contact with half of her friends because she was confusing everyone. Now things were a little clearer, a little simpler, a little less. Now, the denial that she used to shield herself with was fast deteriorating. Her comfort circle were 2 hours and a weekend away and she was arguably alone. So, she turned up the music and danced. Her pen gliding on gingerly lined empty pages. Her lens freezing the portrait of sunlight's neglect upon her neighbourhood.

Meanwhile, the delicate pages of a historic love story called her to let go of loneliness' hand. There was only purposefulness (or lack thereof) between victory and depression. The sad song, lamented beautifully on repeat- singing hinting harmonies "...with you is where I belong"; repeatedly pressing onto memories of previous strengths, nudging her to step into puddles of courage and feel the relief of balance, of supported position, of identity.

I belong to you.
I know.
I do.

I know too well the deception of my circumstance and it's hallucination of incompleteness (I just forget). I also know that others fall victim to this loneliness and its related depression all too frequently. So I'll do what I can to counter it. I am not helpless. I am not. I belong, and you do too.

"Back off loneliness and, hello tenderness. I've been waiting for your call..."
If it rains, it is for you to dance to. If the sun shines, it is for you to bask in.
If neither, the weather was shy because you are beautiful.

strength unseen

There are multitudes of girls/women/children/people i know who face terrors daily; pain I could never imagine.

But you'd never hear it in their voice, you'd never see it in their eyes. You'd never know from their laughter that they endure growing up without a father, because a few years ago, he was the taken by tragedy.

.

So instead of being heartbroken, be inspired.

Rather than sympathising, learn and support, give and encourage.

.

They give me reason.

They smile and I can't resist.

You beauties.

my wholegrain jerk & a pinch of salt.

It's funny how things change. I never saw it coming. The guy who used to call me his favourite girl and spoil me with compliments of beauty, now can't stand the thought of me...or so it seems. I thought the last conversation we had put to rest this indignified venom that poisoned one of my best friends...or me. In anycase, we're nearly illergic to each other now.


I tried tonight. I was trying to ask (subtly and cautiously), if we could see each other this weekend, but the words stopped in my throat as his attack tore my initiative to shreds. I don't think he realised I was actually willing to say back, although everyone was going on a roadtrip because there was a chance we could have coffee or the like. I don't want to go to the roadtrip because I don't want to ruin it for him. I think he'd do better without me threatening his enjoyment. I don't think I realised before what an immature twerp he was; you are a jerk, but I love you nonetheless. I suppose you always had the potential, you always told me stories of the girls you mistreated, but I was never one of them. How the tide has turned!

Don't worry about me (not that I expect you to ever, again), I take you're insults with a grain of salt, I'll become immune to your poison - because that's how it works...one could only hope.

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?