Unreflected
She looks into the mirror.
The mirror that she cannot see herself in.
She's not a vampire,
Not a ghost...
Much worse than any demon,
possessed?
Perhaps.
But what has possessed her is unbelievably common
It's found in every corner,
In every crack and crevice,
In every beating heart of every person
It is the purest kind of evil,
For it is a sin itself
And everyone has, is or will perform it.
Much worse than any demon...
much worse than anything unknown and feared.
for it is something well known.
something we need to do to survive.
a necessary evil that one learns to Love
To Hate
To Need
To Hear
To Say
A Fact of Life.
Something somehow as unwanted as
Death
Hatred
Fear
And yet as much a part of life as any of them.
And as much needed.
Lies
Lies and
Lies andoro
Lies but at leas
Lies ad ive triedan
lies! but oh well i gues
It's difficult sometimes to lie to people. Sometimes easy. Sometimes, not even an issue.
But there is one we cannot lie to. The one we can only briefly fool and blind from the truth,
Is the one who is witholding it
She looks into the mirror.
The mirror she cannot see herself in.
She accuses the mirror for being unreflective
How incompetent it is that she is unreflected
verbally abuses this object for fabricating lies
everyday
Looking at her straight in the eye
guiltlessly lying
And then one day,
as she stares out of the window and sees the clouds sail by in the wavey sky
she catches a glimpse of herself in the window pane.
a transparent image of herself.
And slowly, and silently, her eyes water, she cries.
For now she knows that the mirror was always true.
That she was always what she could see.
"It was never the fragile mirror that lied,
What I see is the lie within me."
block the past, or blog it
A little girl playing in her backyard. Curious to her surroundings. Observing a single tree everyday for months because she wanted to see that cacoon/crysalis break. Waiting for those beetle egss to hatch. Watching a spider hunt it's prey. And always missing the moment she was waitng for. Still, waiting longingly for another opportunity. The same girl riding her bike around the small, quiet town. The same girl playing with her little sister. That little girl studying not as if it were a task but the experience of a lifetime. A girl who went to the library and devoured the whole section on animals and plants and biology in less than a year. The same girl walking back from school accompanied by her first sweetheart.
The same girl who left her little house, her backyard, the eggs, the cacoons and the butterflies. The little girl who left her little quiet town and her bicycle. Who left her friends and left her past to linger the halls of her now empty house.
She left herself. She left everything about her that she liked. She left her past to rot and die. And now her past a myth. The same girl now lies in her bed looking out the window to stare at the stars. Waiting for one to fall. But instead continuously watches the constellations die. The moment passes and she does not care to try again. Waiting is no longer an option. It's just a waste of time.
Let me sprint until I'm nine,
Maybe I can out run the grips of time.
I'll keep one eye to watch the stars,
I'll keep the other to watch my scars.
I'll try to jump higher than I can reach,
But I know I can't land squarely on my feet.
Stop changing your mind and keep to the plan.
Try to walk on the solid sand.
Write your name on water and watch the ripples die.
Write a song and make me cry.
Figure out a person with your one track mind.
Watch the stereotypes suffocate our time.
Run back and forth till there's no start or end,
Become a socialite without any friends.
Don't tell it if it isn't true.
It might come back to haunt you.
Don't say a word if the words aren't kind,
Because not even a second in life can you rewind.
Don't generalise the world even if it generalises you.
But in the end I guess that's all we can do.
Take a thumbtack and pin me to the wall.
Pin me down before I fall.
Make an equation out of uncertainty.
Let's pattern out this inconsistency.
Light the fire, breathe the poison smoke.
Let your lungs fill until you choke.
Endorphins, Nicotine and Caffeinated shit.
The only things I need to make my mind trip.
An empty page to fill with my always empty mind.
Let's sprint this track till we go back in time.
No one knows you better than yourself
At some point in everyone's life, one will ask themselves, "who am I?" This is of course given that your life is privelaged enough that thoughts like "Why can't I have something other than boiled potatoes?" do not occupy your mind. So...for the group of people that live in a moderate lifestyle and actually have so much time on their hands that self identity matters, this question very often comes up. And I know this question has entered my mind as many times as the words "I know who I am!!! umm...wait no...I was wrong" has left my mouth.
So many people tell you to describe yourself in 3 words, a sentence, as an object, as an animal, as a character in a film, etc... and many people I know wouldn't even be able to write a book about themselves that they are totally confident is accurate. But who is to judge what/which description of yourself is most accurate? Your family? Your friends? Your lover? Yourself? God knows... - literally. The saying "no one knows you better than yourself" comes to mind. But is it true? Can someone who is constantly in search for self identity able to 'know' themselves? No idea.
But hey...sooner or later, one realises that "Wow...I think I am finally comfortable with myself! I think that at least now I know which kind of me I like being". And then one thinks they've got it figured out.
It's annoying and scary as well to one day realise that who you thought you were, isn't who you are anymore, or wasn't you to begin with. What you felt you were comfortable with was merely an image of yourself that you would like to be. Humanity tries endlessly, and hopelessly to draw everything in black and white. Including themselves. Humanity continuously makes the effort to simplify everything into a little equation. Into a single sentence. Into a single system of belief. Into a single colour. Into generalisations that will be contradicted the minute you share it with a second person. And now we attempt to generalise ourselves.
I wonder what Adam and Eve would've concluded had they ever gone through this stage of 'soul-searching'. Of course they had a lot more to worry about other than searching for self identity - like searching for each other (note: this was supposed to be a joke. But i predict that only one snicker and grin will be produced due to this attempt at getting to know that stranger; humour)
It's amazingly satisfying to realise for the first time that you are happy with yourself. That who you are does not bother you, and that you have finally stopped your mission to please everyone by changing every little habit you have. And it is equally disturbing to realise that knowing yourself is a work in progress. It's like trying to standardize a language. which is only truly achieved when the language dies. When it stops changing and evolving, only then can one generalise it. Only then can a true, accurate and concrete description be listed out.
So everytime you think you've got it figured out, the next minute you realise you're wrong. I wish that certain things about me never changed. But I find that when I get hold of something I feel is consistent, it slips out of my hand, and I'm left there without it only reminiscing what it was like to have it. I keep turning to the past as a reference of who I am. realising that how i face the present is what makes me. realising this, but not doing anything. numbed by laziness? numbed by excuses? blinded by the glory of the past. the deeper i reminisce into the past, the sadder i feel. my life now and before is the same. happy, satisfying. but my attitude is not. As if like a rose I feel my petals wither and fall with every passing second, until one day I am but a stalk of thorns.
I forogot what I'm talking about. Oh well, down to the mundane
According to tickle.com, I have an "unusually strong talent for precognition". I found that really quite cool, though also quite hilarious. Filled to the brim with confidence that I can see the future, i tried to test it by trying to 'predict' (or better put, guess) what a friend of mine was about to watch. And after the 5th try i finally got it. 'Woohoo!' I think anyone with that many guesses would have guessed it, even if he had not heard of the film...
This blog is probably the only outlet I have that I have not infected somehow with lovey-dovey true stories of my life. And i feel that some people might be happier if i left it that way. so it shall be for now =p
Do i write too seriously? i think i do. wayyyy to formal. need to loosen up and let go (hmm..strange, i keep saying that to my jeans and my stomach repsectfully) *that was, unfortunately for all you readers, another attempt of mine to crack a joke* the only thing i've ever been able to crack are my joints when im in an uncomfortable situation...
*crack*crack*
Soon i will be faced with an event that will probably change my life significantly. enough that i am very much tempted to take the easy way out and just quit. just continue to sit here and do nothing...my ass is very much happy to live the rest of its life growing into the shape of this chair (urgh...square ass...*shudder*) Yes my ass is another entity on it's own. I'd let it write in here too, but i fear that i talk through my ass enough that i think it's already well represented. plus i don't think anyone could talk about more shit than I can than of course an ass. and here i'll stop because it's getting gross.
so yea...to make this blog ridiculously cliche, let's borrow a famous quote from a movie, "dark and difficult times lie ahead Harry Yani. Soon we must all face the choice between what is right, and what is easy".
I'm not made of black and white
a night on the sofas
there i was...happily wasting my time on the internet.doing nothing productive, when suddenly the lights flickered. at first i thought it was my microwaving potato. then i thought it could be because they don't know there ARE people on campus. but just as these thoughts zipped through my mind in that half a second, the lights stopped flickering, my potato still shrivelled, and my laptop seemed unaware of the momentary lapse its life source suffered. plus...i was amazed at how many things i could think about in half a second.
thinking no harm was done, i continued to watch videos on youtube. but alas...the worst has happened. the internet was down! *suspense filling music in the background*
i heard a distant scream of terror come from my neighbors room and assumed he had realised the worst. immediately i cursed the IT staff for wanting a vacation saying that i had important things to do online. like my much neglected work...yes...my work (*a soft tapping in the back of my mind n a small voice says, "dude...i think u hav an assignment to do" n it resonated through the empty quarters of my cranium*) i could hear the footsteps of my argentine flatmate shuffling faster than usual towards my door. n next the panicked knocking
on my door. i opened it to find him gasping "internet--not---work---bored---no point---to life---suicide--"
well..after a few moments of trying to comfort him, we decided that we should go down n complain. but we were so lazy that we decided to just bitch about it to each other. then we played pool. soon we found out that there is WiFi in the porter's lodge, which gave us enough motivation to get off our asses n give our chairs time to breathe... so here we are...on a nice red comfy sofa, online again, wasting our time, neglecting the work the little voice in my head just claimed i had, content that the only verbalising we need to do is coughing n the occassional 'yea?'. ahh we are content... oh here's nahuel with his sleeping bag. a night on the sofas for him
the basics blown with the wind
The wind here in York grows stronger. Spring teases us with the sunny days, and the sudden showers and darkness. The pretty soft snow that once fell hardens into hail. The flowers bloom in vain. Living a short life in the day, dying with the frost at night. Spring fails us. The signets wade in the water and shiver in their soft down. The little ducklings try to find warmth underneath the belly of a hungry mother. The father pecks abusively at the mother. Layers of thick clothing does not keep me warm. My scarf chafes my neck. My skin dries and crinkles. The first few seconds of my favourite song does not fill me the same way it used to. And many things I used to think about when I am sad somehow cannot fulfil their purpose now. Ahh I've let slip that I'm sad. It's weird really... I don't know if I've felt this way before. Shakey, empty, tired but not sleepy. Sounds more like I have a fever. Maybe it's just the normal hormonal imbalances the female species gets time to time. The kind all men have to endure from us women at one point in their lives at least. Ahhh the things men have to endure from me. My strange annoying tendencies to f*ck them up and screw them over. My ability to turn the most patient, non-jealous person into an angry, suspicious green-eyed monster.
"Are you tired of being marriage material? Are you annoyed with being the perfect man? try my free 3 day trial and i gurantee you I will kill your ideals and morals. Just 3 days and i will make you into a man who believes that all women are scum! try it now and you will not be disappointed" - this will be my online dating advert i think one day.
Life is a balance of a bunch of things. Not as consistent as math may be. But as fragile as an equation of equlibrium. Perfect balance equals ideal life. Tip the balance one degree from norm, and that equals reality.
I live in reality now. It's ironic how reality is so blurry and leaves me feeling numb. Can one even 'feel' numb? Isn't numbness the inability to feel anything? Ahh well anyway...
The inability to feel anything. I have that. I am a woman who apparently thinks too much that i have no space for feelings. I think so much that I generate negative feelings out of other people.
So what is it now then? This inability to think straight, this inability to make connecting paragraphs, or to keep a sane conversation. Is this what it feels like when a woman who thinks too much learns to feel?
Is this pain in my chest due to my rarely used, unfeeling heart beginning to have life? Ahh yes... The same feeling one gets when one goes to gym and uses that odd, frightening looking machine that claims to rid you of your cellulite. And then afterwards u feel pain in muscles you didn't even know you had. Must be the same concept.
Let's see what other unknown parts of me exist. The best way to find out if something exist seems to be through pain. "I think therefore I am" I don't know if that's quite accurate anymore.
