Burn Me

The fact that I find such sensation in this excruciating frustration is chronically problematic.

My misleading imagination will guide me to my own destruction. It feels like I'm seeing things that lack clarity. It's quite miserably foolish of me to perceive actions in such an immature manner and this perception makes little to no sense. If I allow this to continue without further instruction I will be leaving a ferocious fire unattended. In the end I will be the liar and victim of the lies. I have unknowingly created a fake reality that has irrationally avoided logic screaming in the background. This will eventually burn me. The fact that I created this scene makes me consider the impossible concept of a part of me desiring such a lie. The misconception that I have deluded myself into will draw me to instability. A lack of balance. Where point and reason is beyond blurred. My rationality will be shattered if it hasn't already reached the state of deterioration. I wish not to have a perception that visualises an episode that is non-existent.

Storm

Dark and refreshingly drowning,
The sky canvas takes new colouring,
Ever so quick it is painted,
The used-to-be clear sky is tainted,
The rain pours marking the beginning,
And it carries varied meaning,
To some it will bring energizing growth,
To others it is another thing to loathe,
It may wash away the fear and pain,
Dissolving a life's troubling stain,
While clarity is drenched and bent,
Deterioration is paused in the moment,
Some drops may freely fall with grace,
Others pound disguising it as a race,
They stomp and splat on the bored floor,
Following every drop and strand comes more,
Then there are the unforgettable wingmen,
Never left behind in the concealed den,
They are the conspicuous echo and shadow,
Chasing and screaming creating a flow,
One brings the exquisite flicker,
Spontaneously random like a trickster,
Lighting up to seek attention,
It glows tickling away distraction,
Coming out to play momentarily,
Stunning the audience incredibly,
Then it shies away after the brightness,
Disappearing in the incredulous darkness,
On the other end fighting for alpha,
Is the inconstant heartbeat of the era,
It builds up a roar of intensity,
For making people jump it is guilty,
Displaying passion in a flaunty manner,
Hitting the auditory sense harder than a hammer,
The pair driven by force wrestles and argues,
With frequent comebacks with no breakthrough,
As one takes over the sky,
The other begins to cry,
There is not an end to this unavailing dispute,
Neither is prepared to give a final salute,
Our senses are tingled with these extremities,
The burning shine gives our slight vision a tease,
The long isolated strike triggers sensation,
While the wet drizzle sprays in this tension,
The invigoration touches us,
Then the dazzling gleam enters campus,
As the miraculous sprinkle gets to finishing,
It marks the end of the beginning,
Releasing the previous anchor,
The new vibrant colours reveal a new chapter.

Not now.

Why is everything excruciatingly more appealing at such a despairing time? Bleak and boring details seem to be highlighted at the moment I wish them not to be. I dread the way these normally avoidable minor things scream and shout directing my attention at them. They have the worst timing in the history of timings, selecting the single moment I am swimming within the strongest waves of reality and barely surviving through the tempest. I am personally not regulated to be surrounded by aspects with traits that are incredibly enticing. The constant tease slowly and painfully crushes me as I know I must push, making an apparent distance in between. They chose the absolute worst point to drive up the intensity that used to be nonexistent. Things that used to flow with normality shimmer in the plains. However, I must refuse to give in as this is the wrong time. Any other time, perhaps before or after this period, I may allow myself to give in to the such attractions. But not now.

Incoming 2009 means farewell year 9

We are gradually approaching 2009 and as we live our carefree lives for a few more weeks we must bid year 9 and the year 2008 farewell. No rewinds and no second times, this is it. This year is over. Many will look back and blame their circumstances on fate or bad luck but reminiscing with a negative tint over their perspective will bring nothing but regret. We are foolish to magnify minor disintegrating details of our past and allow it to linger with us in the present. What's done is done. Remember the good times and forget the bad. There's no need to hold and grip on to unpleasant things. We should make the most of now. The past does not matter. The future does not matter. Because we don't live in those places.
Like the turtle said in Kung Fu Panda: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present"
They say we don't recognise the significant moments of our lives while they are happening. We are blinded and too satisfied and often without realising we grow to be satisfied with being constantly unsatisfied. We tend to take things for granted only realising the worth of it when it has been taken away from us. Then the realisation bashes you and wakes you up from a sleep you don't even remember falling into. Like Sleeping Beauty you initially wake up unaware. And then you realise how much you needed and depended on it and how you love it.
Childhood. Saying goodbye to ninth grade is like saying goodbye to childhood. A place and time where things aren't serious and plainly simple. But the unfortunate truth is: we are growing up. As much as I wish I was Peter Pan, I find myself slightly excited for the future. The unknown brings ecstasy. Completely overwhelming and a mystery I am strangely delighted to see unfold. The future. So many questions and all the answers lie down the road of life waiting for our steps that will bring them to reality. Things will be different, that is for sure but how different? We'll just have to see. But a part of me wants to cling on to this year. I think I am too content with the present and a seed of uncertainty has been planted and it grows fear within me. A part of me fears the future yet another part anticipates for it. Contradicting, huh?

I've given up on giving up slowly

I'm getting all the confirmation that I asked for. And only now do I realise how much this truth strikes me like lightning. It gets me thinking about how much I actually wanted myself to be proven wrong. I wanted the truth. But I should have realised I couldn't handle the truth. It's such a weak feeling knowing that I'd rather be comforted and wrapped around lies than face reality straight on. Like a shredded cloth, this cause is pointless. Perhaps at one point I believed in this deceiving cloth. But my vision is no longer blurred and what I see, is a torn apart cloth with no use and a bin around the corner screaming home. Even if it's ripped all over and stained to the extent of no going back, I can't help but want to keep it. Hoping that one day it will mend itself. But I need to dispose the cloth and these thoughts that linger. It's presence only disintegrates my mental well being.