Revelations

Its what you go through life discovering.

Its what you go through life learning and treasuring.

Its what you go through life understanding.

And now I discover, learn, treasure and understand.

Life's full of surprises

Life's full of surprises, no doubt about it.

One moment it can bring you into the most euphoric of moods, drifting you upon the clouds of floating dizziness. The next moment, it throws a curved ball with a plunging parabolic motion so sudden and angled that you don't even know how to react. And somehow that feeling of being punched repeatedly in the gut won't subside.

What can we do about it? Try our best and cope. Grit our teeth and get through life as best as we can manage. Keep our eyes and mind fully occupied with productive stuff. Never let the mind idle, because it might just self-destruct and swallow itself.

Like they say, the brain is an idle monkey.

Songs=emotions?

I love how songs, the lyrics and the beats, can arouse so many emotions within. Love, hate, joy, grief...not only do emotions get tackled, memories will also be stirred up. Good, bad, provoking, peaceful...I've had it all.

But nothing beats the feeling of needing a good cry, and then the song, with the most wrenching beat and lyrics that speak right through your heart at that exact moment, comes on. And then the flood gates will be opened. And after a good cry, everything seems slightly better.

Yes. Sometimes that's all we need. A good cry.

Wall

That's what I feel I'm facing. People say life has to go on, but I can't see beyond the wall, and I'm afraid to climb it. This seemingly insurmountable task is further exacerbated by not knowing what lies beyond. Somehow there is also slight reassurance in staying within my comfort zone. Just be safe, and not face whatever is coming my way.

I can't. I won't. I must not. Break the wall.

They say that fear is what you cannot see, when your mind starts tossing around the most terrible outcomes.

I pray. I beg. I plead. Nothing bad has happened.

The power of love

Love.

The most mysterious and sought after thing in the world. It's free, yet it's so hard to earn. It can make or break people. It's what gives this life meaning, and liberates human beings from living a pointless, mechanical existence.

But love comes in so many different forms, it's easy to get led astray and believe that those silly infatuations and crushes can be love. Nowadays, people use that word so easily and frequently, it makes one wonder just how sincere they really are.

Let me tell a story of true love, adapted from Stephen King's "The Green Mile".

There was a pair of twin girls, who fit the angel stereotype perfectly to a T. Blond, curly ringlets framing their cherubic, rosy faces and azure blue eyes lit with an infinite sparkle. It was in the middle of June, and the summer heat blazed through the days and nights, making people sticky and uncomfortable. On this unfortunate night, the twin girls requested to sleep on the patio, where they would at least get some relief from the stifling heat. Who can say no to them? Sweet, slightly chiding voices with plenty of "I love you!"s and "Please, Mommy?"s. That was the last time their mother ever heard their voices.

The next morning, with the sun already high up in the sky, the brother was sent to the patio wake them up. He returned trembling, his face as pale as spoilt cheese. "They...they're gone." Search parties were immediately sent out, while investigators collected blood samples and hair to identify the time and cause of death. Not that they had to scour very hard. The whole patio and adjoining doors were splashed with their blood, already turning black and congealed under the withering heat.

A few days later, the results were out. The girls had been raped and killed by a psycho who calls himself Billy the Kid. He had recently escaped from a mental asylum and not only had the blood of the twin girls on his hands, there were also many who met their untimely fate before them. Their battered bodies were recovered from a ditch not far from their farmhouse, naked and broken.

The last piece of the puzzle has yet to fall into place. Why hadn't the girls cried out? Why didn't they scream? Tests revealed there wasn't any drugs in their bloodstream, so they were fully alive and kicking when they were brutally raped and killed. Investigators were baffled.

It was only when the authorities questioned Billy the Kid that the ultimate story of love was unveiled. Before he raped his victim, he placed a knife on her throat and told her,"If you scream or make any sound, it will be your sister that I kill, not you." And the love for her sister was so strong that she died with her mouth clamped shut.

That, to me, is what I really deem as love. Undiluted, strong, sacrificial love. And that is what I hope I can give , and have somebody give it back to me.

The pain of the wait

What is worse than hearing a definite answer "no"? I think, many a times, not knowing the answer is worse. Either a "wait" or a "not sure" makes me curl up in agony and heart-rending pain as my ever-turbulent mind imagines the worse and starts playing tricks. More often than not, I find myself worrying for nothing, but there are and always will be, exceptions.

What if one day I find my wild imaginations coming true, confirming my deepest darkest fears and leaving me to regret the rest of my life?

I regret not spending more time with you.

I regret not calling you and hearing your voice one last time.

I regret not holding you tight enough.

I regret letting you go.

I regret not saying those three special words...how much you mean to me.

I regret.

And I would give anything just to see you one more time...anything to just hear even half your breath.