"Those good days were long gone."

6.17pm | September 5, 2015 |Saturday

I went home after the morning meeting and a brief lunch afterwards. I de-hibernated my laptop, and it said ‘software update’. I finally decided not to click on ‘Not now’. After nights of sleep deprivation, I turned towards the bed and dived into a hopeful refuge.

                Three and a half hours later, I woke up with slivers of dried tears mounted by the edges of my eyes. Semiconscious, I started recalling through the present-minded bay of memories.

                I succeeded. And so it began.

                                                                                                                                                              

                “Those good days were long gone,” the stone echo was a tuning fork afloat in the deepest ocean trench. Then the question stampeded from the rear, “How long?”

                The picture was vague and out of focus. The good times passed by like filmstrips. The bad times passed by like filmstrips, only slower – much slower, and more focused. The weight of revelation could not have been more, and the revelation was simple but the possibility was hurting.

                “Hey, nice to meet you.”

                “I think I’m starting to have a feeling for you.”

                “We’ll have a good time ahead.”

                “Hey, thanks for everything.”

                “You’re important to me.”

                “We are different in so many ways.”

                “You win.”

                “I’m not able to give you what you need.”

                “Those good days were long gone.”

                “Give us one more chance.”

                “Why won’t you?”

                “We’re done.”

                They were a mix of uttered words firing from both, and thoughts from the mind when it was most solitary and fragile.

                The pain is real. The hope is fading. Dreams like this contribute to the gradual loss of faith towards the stones and bricks of this foundation. Dreams like this have made me give up.

                But not yet – the realization after these dreams always managed to stick the broken faith together, almost perfectly, although the fatigue was a cyclical load and nasty business.

                Each time I woke up from pain, I had good memories to drive me forward. These reminiscences give me motivation to what kind of a future that I would pave ahead of us. It is never promising, but it is an expectation worth the drive.

                You have been very important to me. You are already a part of my life – not that I cannot, but will not let go.

                These dreams taught me that the end of a string of memories, long or short, is where the action reminders are.

                The bad emotions can stop already. We shift the space for a better and more positive relocation of good deals, those you once were motivated towards, of which shall resume in time.

                You know we can. You know it is possible. It’s only the goal-driven effort.

                I love you.

Life: In Flaming Effervescence

Preface

For 38 seconds, this cold figure made me wonder at the brink of strangeness and profundity. This was not the most comfortable of a situation to be in, until the nerves finally linked the logics like how they advertise neural-friendly baby products on the TV. "I'm definitely looking at a giant mirror," I nodded in vague comprehension. At the thirty-ninth click, I burst out laughing at the wasted span of blind realization.

--------------------------------------

I managed a glance of a split second above me. The diminishing hint of light from where I fell from was all but a sliver of fading neon tones. 

As I was rocking bottomward in pitch black, the surrounding walls worked like magic. Luminiscent shapes formed and blurry images started bubbling and radiating from within.

Then the puzzles finally matched well, almost a Shakespearean click… that as my life was nearing the end, his began.

To be continued...

shoot.

there was this little puppy, cursed bloodily, smashed, unrecognizable.

What could be salvaged of it?

nothing.

Beams and Complexions

She beamed though I didn't see, entirely taking me by surprise.

I just, felt.

Have a sense of what you are, of what you've reached, and of what you've yet to possess.

When you are surprisingly in demand, in a circle of acquaintance, or in a group of people,
the illusion is to be fought back with nothing else to hesitate.

Oh now, the illusion smoked off.
What remains determines what you have to determine yourself into what your determination is.

All that correct have went wrong; all that was wrong was getting rid of being faulty.

Faulty to my head, I raise a pen by my fingers, writing down what was being fixated in my mind was all that jotted down.

It says:

What could I do to win, to win something I'd rather be retarded to win.

Tell me.

Separated Union

Once a very long long time ago, God created man in His own image. But these lives He created were never the same as what we were looking at nor as who we were talking to everyday. In fact, it was told that before the realm of elves had taken its possession of the land where man existed, our forefathers had lived a life without the difference in sexes. It was long ago that the spirits of masculinity and femininity existed in unison, such that the oneness of both sexes were still perfectly undamaged. Man hailed to the God for this wonderful extraordinaire gift they were fortunately bestowed upon.

It was then something unexpected had befallen man's destiny -- this beautiful union was being destroyed in an unnoticeable instant, by the outlawed elves from the underworld. Overwhelmed and grudged by hatred, defiance and jealousy, they invaded the souls of millions and billions of people. Forcefully, they dislodged the spirits of masculinity from the spirits of femininity. Since then, men and women were no longer living the happy life as seahorses were. It was as if two separated halves of a seashell: one man or woman has to spend his whole life searching for the other half of his remaining soul. Everyone's life companion was predestined. However, certainly there were some fortunate ones who only spent just a little time succeeding in searching their companions; but, pathetically, most weren't. Some even hadn't met any throughout the entire life, even so if they succumbed to it.

For these centuries going on, the descendants of Adam and Eve had been pleading for God's mercy to break the curse they were doomed with. But every time He uplifted it, the elves of the underworld would have never stopped seizing the chance to bring about the ghostly curse again upon the humanity. As time gradually rinsed man's hope away, he was never again hopeful to take the risk anymore. By and by, the search of unknowingly predestined love and companion finally had become inevitably perennial, as would the future be...

I wouldn't know how to entitle this.

I never knew what it was like being disconcerted.

Now I knew, and I will remember that kind of feeling, ALWAYS.

Valuing Life

Time exists. There always are both past and present and future. Alas we do have the scarce to unfold the future and so it's not counted anyway. Often it pushes me to wonder, what if there was a twist in the past, even a minor one, that all of them will round up making all the pieces of the puzzle completely aggregated into one single - the present - now.

Rather than figuring the possibilities in a puzzling daze, I unwittingly caught a glance at something. It was a stack of photo albums. Blowing off the dust in shallow curiosity, I revealed the contents. Oh, those were photographs of memorable past. The ever so beautiful memoirs where my parents came about marrying each other, and with that, I was here seventeen years and three months ago.

So there isn't really anything to doubt about. There isn't anything larger than love that could bring me into this world. Still, I believe in silent faith, there are still many empty, indiscernible, unseen souls pondering around us, waiting in queue for their departure, and their arrival to this world. Just how many as blessed as me myself to be born this way, just how many, if you had been into any places, happened to visit any hell on earth, like any of the houses where the disabled ones were compelled into, like any of the needy on the driest continent of Africa, who, still murmur in tacit prayers, emptily hoping for a miracle to happen, vacantly beseeching for the most basic rights and virtues to embrace them, and that could just be below impossibility.

I have everything some people might die for. I have everything some people would not have sought forever. Bitterness of humanity crushes mankind on every corner of the world. The world's so huge I've no rights to complain. Injustice surfaces everywhere so frequently I've no rights to falsify my basic duties as a human being.

Three weeks ago I've been known to a news about a twenty six year old man committing suicide jumping off an overpass, my dad's friend's son, just because of some very teeny-weeny financial overshoots, and that ends his life.

If I happened to meet him somewhere by chance, his soul, or spirit, whatever, he must be regretting for killing himself. Life's so greatly precious he was NOT given the due to perish his own. Come on, think, many more lives out there are still struggling, striving in the hardest way, in excruciatingly bitter adversities, just to keep their pulse beat everyday, every moment, every single millisecond. WHY WAS IT SO HARD TO KEEP LIVING, IF YOU WERE GIVEN EVERY GODDAMN NECESSITY YOU'D HAVE NEEDED, EVERYTHING SINCE YOUR GOD BLESSED BIRTH? Half a potato and a handful of muddy water could keep a person living on the poorest land in the world, and why the hell had he chosen to jump off the building, ending the life that each of those poor people would be dying for?

If you are still now complaining about life, about having to work or study everyday without some breathing space you ever so wanted, about how short the time your parents have been allowing you in front of the computer screen, about how little money your parents have been giving you, or, about how annoying the time when the closest people around you breath down your neck, then go ahead, because life already seems just utterly meaningless to you.

If there is a chance, I do wish to feel the way of living in any poor lands on Earth. Because life seems just too hard and those people, mostly, could still bite hard to keep it pacing forward. Even any of them are born in the dirtiest surroundings, born in the poorest family, we should always salute them, for they never talk about giving up life, nor would they ever think of committing suicide. Because each of them truly knows, life is treasure, a godly present that God had chosen few to grant.

So how am I going to value life? For me it's simple. STOP COMPLAINING. Life isn't just about complaining about the bad ones and cherishing the good ones. Life is a black and white, both good and bad come to you simultaneously. Once you complain a word about life, you are taking it for granted.

Open your eyes. You are damn blessed. And please, be grateful, ever so.

New Order

IT'S LIKE SOME MOST AWKWARD BUZZ KEPT ITS ENNUI REGIME BUZZING MY HEAD OFF THE NORMAL ORBIT.

At most least that buzz hadn't start burning.

Had it been really one sophisticating year ahead, with unknown futures gradually unfolding in considered courtesy, I watched souls stared in some astonished wonder. Over the rare bizarreness shot over the horizon now gorgeous with some six hundred long seconds of fireworks, many had their mouths hung open. Many had their eyes glared transfixed, as if some magics did that effect. And their eyes, now luminescent, swirled in the ocean of flames and lights like some heaven light, like faith and energy all of an unknown sudden replenished within each of them.

And that soon second after the blares, it ended, summoning hallucination of every sense.

Now I heard some grumbles and sighs involuntarily mouthed out. Like some old ancient scaffolding falling down over an old inn roof. A new year.

Magics over.

Reality came.