Balancing act.

I am in a constant battle between what my heart and mind are telling me. I’ve yet to find a sensible balance between the two. Most of the time it’s because the difference between the two are night and day. In most cases, I’ll choose to be rational and follow my mind but there are those rare occasions when I’ll throw caution to the wind and follow my heart. Can we ever be wrong in deciding with our heart or our mind? Granted, one is a bit more reasonable than the other, but then again, is it? I question everything within my realm of being. I’m now questioning decisions I’ve made and whether they were made rationally in a moment of clarity or unreasonably in a daze. Were these decisions even mine to make? Now that my thoughts have been verbalised, I feel the need to retract them and make them my own again. When thoughts are shared and spoken, they are finalised.

For those moments when pain capsizes your entire being and you're seeing yourself in shattered glass, just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. Because if it hurts, you know what? It’s probably goddamn freaking worth it.

I just don't want the world to break my heart.

For the last two days, I decided to stick with the same bus route to school. And it must have been a hint from God, for I took the same bus as a father with his pre-school daughter. Well, it sounds normal right? I mean.. I assume that most people who commute to school or work would have at least 80% chances of bumping into the same lot of passengers in the bus we transport in. But what made my bus ride so emotional was firstly the sight of the father sending his daughter to school by bus. Well, in many cases now, many of us have the luxury of having our parents transport us around in your comfortable cars. But... I like to take another point of view in life. I'd rather spend hours walking or on bus rides. Yes, to many it may sound crazy but I like company. I like long walks that allows me to just keep talking about everything under the sun. I like bus rides where we look at the happenings around us. Because.... In my family car, everyone goes into their world of their own. My sister plugs-into her mp3 while my mum texts on her phone.. Not to mention my dad... He gets all worked up when the traffic doesn't flow. And... For me? I look out of my car window and hope.. and hope that even for th last three minutes of my car-ride, all four of us are engaged in a family conversation. I miss the part where I talk, and I share, and you all take time to actually listen. But no... It appears to me that, you three don't seem to catch my "alien" language, or maybe... You three hardly take interest. Even if you do make the tiny effort of listening, all you do is suggest that your advices are always BETTER. Maybe... Life is so straightforward. Everything revolves round rules/restrictions/facts. Sadly, this makes all human beings the same. What a pity.

What I saw next heightened my emotions. The father was tying his daughter's hair. Not to mention it was all neat.. and proper. When was the last time my dad gave me a pat on my shoulder? Or touched my head with assurance? For the record, I guess it must have been a rusty memory. All he does is "side" my sister. Helps her come up with 1001 excuses for her not achieving her optimal potential. I'm sick to the gut.
I see how my parents "invest" hundreds of dollars on my sister's (passion) for softball and still put up with her poor academic results. Well.... Did I mention it cuts me so deep whenever I carry a smile to tell you "Mom, Dad, I made it to the team." only to be brushed off with a "Oh, good for you.". It sucks. Why is it that you two make it such a "BIG DEAL" with my sister's "achievments"?. Hosting dinners/parties. Did you guys ever ever make the effort of planning a birthday for me? AS PARENTS. No.

I just want.. Time, and patience. To listen to what I have to say. I never knew it was a chore, because... I listen to what others around me have to share WHOLEHEARTEDLY. Why can't you just do the same? (As parents).


You two tell me "I'd bash whoever hurts my daughter." Why not... You take a step back and consider... That noone in the whole world can hurt me the way you(two) does it. It makes me crawl to bed crying in my dreams. Sometimes... I lie to myself to assure everyone that everything is OK.
But now?

Now... I'll enjoy my long walks alone. Where I'm happiest with myself.

My mind cuts like a razor-blade.

I wonder if you know what I mean when I talk about the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I climb to the tallest branch of the tree and look outward to that mysterious place where land meets sky, and grasp your limb just a little bit tighter because I cannot think of what to do with myself. Because it gives me a feeling of assurance, no matter how subtle.

For the sirens are chasing us. Over the rooftops with the blasts of music derived from wasted teenage years far and wide; those around us. Over the station-tracks like voices screeching along electrical rows. They are following along with clock-like regularity, just under the wheels, towards the sun. Because for their world is round but ours, a Rubik's cube.

Give me a sign.

just like a sheep without its shepherd, i don't know where's the flow. so complicated.

haven't felt like this for so long.

To be subjected.

the people around me have amusing things to say, i've recently developed a habit of taking them down, and not only mentally. sometimes funny, sometimes clever, sometimes insanely depressing... whether subconsciously or very consciously, for dramatic purposes or not. We either talk or think. not that we live to do one or the other but the reverse isn't exactly accurate either. i'm beginning to realise, contrary to descartes, we sometimes think in order not to be. granted, the human thought process is complicated, even more so in these formative years of our lives. thoughts are unbounded, in the fact that no one could ever understand the specifics of your every impression. at times i feel compassion does not exist, we do good to feel good about ourselves. we ourselves, like our thoughts, are unbounded, without the means of intrasubjectivity.

i think growing up only proves that even lesser things are concrete.
Guess for now.. "Er, hello poly life. I heard you'd be friendly to young kids like me."

Spelling Bee.

I'm half in love with... the tingles in my arm. Watching skin contract and stiffen. Is that a word, stiffen? It doesn't look quite right. Stiffen stiffen stiffen. It feels alien. Like detached, I'm unsure. Like that funny thing we do. Stare right into each other, but not through, not too deep. Just enough to see ourselves staring back in the other's left pupil. Hold it, say your name. Again again again. Until it doesn't make sense. Until you feel it unravel from you. Until it drops. Until you don't recognise it. Then stop. Take it back, shove it back in. Like it never left.


I'm finally spelling Philadelphia without a spell checker.

What's the time of my life?

I had a dream. And it was the best dream ever. I woke up with new moon on my stomach and feelt the sun scorching my leg. It was uneasy. I tried to turn to the other side of the bed to fall back to sleep but at that moment my book fell off my bed and mommy had already started turning on her loud hailer. Woke up and wiped the sleep out of my eye it was 11:15am. Time to get her papers. Time to start a new day. All i (we)-you need is time time time time. TIME. Time on our hands.

Make my day.

blahhhhhhhh
days are horribly consistent

someone needs to turn my world upside down
(for the better, preferably)

if the day came when i felt a natural emotion
i'd get such a shock i'd probably jump in the ocean
and when a train goes by, it's such a sad sound
no... it's such a sad thing.
and when i'm lying in my bed
i think about life and i think about death
and neither one particularly appeals to me!

What's the radio's favourite song?

i can never attach myself to a favourite song of all time, one song to encapsulate these sixteen years of my life, i find it incredibly hard. so i picked one from my favourite memory, a bittersweet memory, the memory i always look back to when regret seeps from the present. that whatever happens now and after, i will never change this single moment of my life that yes, i may not be successful in the future, that yes, i may be living off food coupons for the rest of my life, that perhaps maybe if i'm lucky i will pay it all through a shitty nine to five job just to make ends meet but never would i regret those amazing two years, i would do it all over again in a heartbeat. that i know when i'm thirty and dying i will never long for lost youth or missed chances. that i won't watch silly films about teenagers and envy their reckless youthful decadence. that i won't pass strangers and wished that it was me instead. that those times everyone else was planning for the future, calculating their breaths, we were untouchable, we were living, we were high, we were chased by wild dogs, we were jumping off cliffs and into the water, we were going at a hundred and eighty kilometers per hour and in that exact split second we thought life and death will turn and meet in an embrace, my god, i swore in that moment, we were all fathomless.


we're definitely going to hell, but we'll have all the best stories to tell.

It's like coloring in the white spaces.

Hello April, it's nice to have you drop by again. I hope we're not gonna have arguments this time around. Stay for tea or stay for the night if you'd like to. But don't get in my way with your pesky little social issues again. So, as random as this can get; if music was ever a guy, he'd be a simple dude. Not too tall, not too short, not too skinny, not too fat. A pair of grungy Levi's on and a washed out band tee with that oh-so-corny washed out flannel. Maybe a beanie or a cap with an iron-on from the 60's. Those over-used pair of sneakers and really screwed up hair. Waiting at the train station with a Dr.Pepper in one hand and a bag of Cheetos in the other. "Hello Mr.Music, it's nice to finally meet the dude that defines my day."