a facade

I can't keep secret and I never kept any.

Yet it is ironical how getting to know my true sentiments is as though some kind of code-breaking. All sentiments encrypted. The passwords are given but others often failed to interpret the codes. Like a puzzle, an anagram... exposed but oblivious under the naked-eye.

-------------------------------------------------

I can never be the girl-next-door.

I'm too judgmental of everything, every new person even before they have a chance to present themselves. Perhaps I'm too self-protected to refrain anyone from having the slightest sentiment towards me. Leaving them clueless, with an impression of me often misinterpreted and misunderstood.

A paradox from the usual candor I have introduced myself with. A truth within the truth.

My hostility shields me from the remote, the unknown. Despite these, I can't help but to contradict my aversion with feelings of compassion.

almost there

A bleeding heart.

This is no sad story about romance but something that cuts deeper... life.

I thought I have given up completely but a shudder took me by the grip once again. a reawakening. a cycle.

Just a few days ago, lethargy creeped on me like no other time, leaving a body; a hollow shell as the essence of life is slowly sucked away, invisible but tangible. Tired. I am. I can feel as though my heart is sighing... so heavy that I almost thought it would stop beating. If the heart is connected to the body, then the light-headedness, restlessness, breathlessness, poor appetite expressed them all.

a lost appetite for everything - the voracity in life.

an ache accumulates in the head... probably it is coming to its senses afterall. coming to terms with something so illogical, so irrational.

I broke down, finally, infront of those who never knew. like uncovering what is behind the mask... it took them by surprise, revealing what's within.

the calling

I pronounced myself dead when I started to lose sight of faith. It was a struggle, like all transitions. It was tough coming terms to the fact that I will be relinquishing a life of faith, for at least the next decade... resembling a lone boat without its oars, flowing along to wherever the current takes it. I would think of it as a death in itself.

The dying days were spent in sudden onset of tears and swollen eyes. In sudden grief. A sense of loss. Mourning.

My own responsibility, my own decision. A decision but not a choice. A friend akin to my philosophy partner reminded me of it - that I am solely in charge for everything that is happening or will be happening to me. That sounds like the me who would stand firmly to my beliefs. Yet when I thought of the impending days, I was listless. I wasn't even sure if I can revert to my original self, one with willpower and resolution. Like all changes, forced or not, time fades away pain or perhaps we are just hiding from it. It is always there, like a scar - only concealed on the surface. We all learn to accept too easily, that is how school taught us and how life has shaped us. I dislike the part of me allowing myself to be consumed by the demands of reality.

Then... comes a sense of peace and norm. Like none of these has happened. Indifferent. Dead silence.

For a series of days, life was dreadful; things just went haywire. At times, that little part of me emerge... making me wonder if I was wrong. Humans being humans are apt to accept things. I started to think I should take this change or what has been decided seriously, yes, THINK, mind over heart. As I got closer to it, issues stuck out like needles on a melon. I began to lose faith in all the positive what-ifs. I started to think all things will mess up anyway. I started to hate. I started to get angry and frustrated. "Screw it up, so be it."

Just as things are going the wrong way, somehow each would find its own place, or it seems to be. I began to make myself settle and see within the what-ought-to-be. Maybe it is working. Maybe.

It was short-lived.

Till I found out that glimmer of hope still shines, that golden opportunity reappears for me to take the chance to get out of this dilemma. A dream come true... a life I desire and have always believed in. It almost sounds like the perfect way out like fairy god-mother to Cinderella. Unlike Cinderella, my fairy came too late... at a time that is hard for me to turn back. Or perhaps I wasn't as courageous as Cinderella to take chances at the very last-minute.

Am I too late to change my destiny?

I believe it's not too late, I still have the me-philosophy. It takes one to change everything. It's me.

Should I revive the dead?

Or should I allow myself to be reborn, life after this death; start life anew as a new person with new perspectives?