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Sunday, October 21, 2007 Time does not heal wounds. It may blur vivid colors; it may blunt sharp edges; it may smooth raw surfaces, but it does not heal wounds. What time does, instead, is play trickery on our minds. A random profile, a sudden inspiration. "Where is the most romantic place you've been to?" was the question. A thousand word entry shall be my response. Response, not answer. I will not be answering the question - what follows has nothing to do with romance. Memories are funny things. No concrete detail remains in our memories. Everything is mere color, emotion and sound. Maybe I should say no mere detail remains in our memories - everything is exclusively color, emotion and sound. Yes, perhaps then I would be getting my priorities right. We can all be conditioned for emotions. We can be made to feel happy, sad or angry (or happy, sad and angry) with the ease of a gesture. Picture a balloon, a castle, a glacier, a cafe. These are the stimulants, and our reactions to them are conditioned; the mind will bring to its surface emotions connected with these stimulants, while the actual details of the events may elude us. It seems my memory has, over the years, been diligently categorized by the complex filing system that is the way my brain functions. There exists the factual memory - chemical equations, grammar, Wikipedia entries, etc. But alongside it, you will find the color memory - a bank of images that make no sense in the conscious realm. These images surface in my sleep; they form the canvas of my dreams. These images are indisputably real, yet they are illogical - the sea is purple in these images, the sand is green; flowers that are tossed up in the air stay that way - they never succumb to gravity. Oh but there is a point to this seemingly irrelevant flow of thoughts. The point is, (and I am struggling, at this point, to find the perfect words to do my thoughts justice, instead of passing this off as mere whimsical chatter) when asked the question "Where is the most romantic place you've been to?", what my mind invokes is not the factual bank, but the one where images collect in an unintelligible heap; never to be dug through and made proper sense of. It drags up the purple sea, the green sand, the gravity-defying flowers, but it does not drag up a place to answer the question. AnRu reminisced at 12:51:00 AM.
Monday, October 15, 2007 Today, on the 15th of October, just a little over a month away from turning Twenty, I dwell on Life's greatest lesson - that of sacrifice. A life has been sacrificed in exchange for my freedom and autonomy; a life born of me and dead within me. Indeed, it may be the most beautiful experience my very young life has had the opportunity to come across. Its ephemeral beauty lies in its intangible nature. Surely I felt the life within me, and surely I saw Luka. Yet, I never saw Life. I saw in the circumstances, only Death. Luka became the sacrifice, instead of me. I was selfish. But what's done is done, and there's nowhere to go but forward. It comes as no surprise that, on this day that we should have been welcoming him into the world, I embark on a new chapter of Life. Perhaps not the chapter I'd originally planned on writing, but one that I'm now certain will turn out all right in the end. I will allow myself time for grief till dawn breaks. When the Sun arrives on the horizon to present Tomorrow as a gift, I will be as I was ten years ago - eager to pursue the Future. For what Luka has given me is more than Life; 'tis direction and purpose. Happy Birthday, little one. I shall be keeping you in my prayers. AnRu reminisced at 12:12:00 AM.
Saturday, October 13, 2007 I saw myself in the mirror this morning; face ashen, eyes a glassy opaque white - there is nothing in them. I haven't seen myself in a long time. AnRu reminisced at 10:55:00 AM.
Thursday, October 04, 2007 a late april day and it’s sunny outside and a red little girl’s at the top of a slide an orange old man at the bottom wants to take her for a ride as she slips and she tumbles the orange man mumbles pennies fall out of the sky and he tells her he’ll take her away where it’s safe and of course that is a lie she’s a third the way down and her skirts are yanked up and her little girl cheeks start to wrinkle but her smile is wide and her legs are spread wider her hair growing long and her hips getting larger past getting brighter light growing weaker she is halfway down now but the man is impatient shakes change in his pocket he might to wait but she’s coming… she’s coming… she’s coming… who are you blaming? they’re just playing! that’s a good one… who left the playground a good decade before the bell rang? as she starts to draw nearer the view becomes clearer the splinters are painful but she doesn’t feel it the pennies were loaded and as they exploded she starts to spin out of control her eyes are now closing her sleeves are unrolling up past her head and her veins are all showing not that she noticed she’s thoroughly focused on one old man who’s laughing… who’s laughing… who’s laughing… don’t worry I’ve got you (x5) the orangeman got you….. a late april day and it’s sunny outside and a red little girl’s at the top of a slide an orange old man at the bottom wants to take her for a ride AnRu reminisced at 6:42:00 PM.
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Hurt and Deceived 18 November Dead and Gone I Turn To denise eternity georgia jamie leona lionel michelle neha priscilla samantha shane shujun terence terry vaish will yixuan Engraved In The Lines Of Yesterday
Tell Me Your Lies
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what do you do, when the person who can stop your tears is the person who makes you cry? |
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