Eternal

The bones and memories of others lie scattered on the wastelands of broken dreams. Dreams, they spawn from the mind of sleep; and sleep, she lay next to death.

Trudging through the dustiness, there is nothing to be seen in all directions but the carcasses of things once grand, the shattered diamonds of hopes and aspirations; they all lay forgotten in this abysmal plain. Where are their dreamers and creators? All lost to time, nothing but the shadow of memories.

In the vast, bare, landscape, there is nothingness; for everything comes eventually to rest in this dismal place. The sun and moon in this ethereal plane shine perpetually, and yet their light does not illuminate. There are no longer the bright shiners, for they have been cast into the void of all of men's failures.

Who rules over these lands?

The king of memories; he who remembers and forgets; he who memories revolve and orbit upon like celestial spheres; he who is and is not.

And he sits upon the ancient throne of sleep and dreams. Perhaps he is death himself, but who are we to glance upon his countenance? We who defile, they who condemn, they who know not the meaning of sin, they who are self-righteous.

All to be forgotten by the king of memories; all to forever remain in the wasteland, forgotten, forsaken, worse than dead, worse than being in the eternal fires of hell.
In heaven you are remembered for deeds; in hell you are recalled for sins.
In the wasteland you are not even junk, you are not even nothing.
In the wasteland you do not exist.

原因

为什么会爱她，喜欢她？

因为她会使我笑，令我开心。

实现梦想

最近有许多梦想；到底能实现吗？想到明年要考钢琴的第八级了；我考得到上吗？我现在的准备因该是不足，令我十分操心。年尾有有SPM, 烦死了！

看到一些人的幸福，我会觉得一点羡慕；我怎么没呢？
别人烦恼是因为会失去珍贵的东西，我却因为没能失去的东西而难过。

付出·幸福的理由

昨晚又想起你了。 还记得那天在你的书上找到了你的一根头发。在从窗透进来的阳光下看着那特别的一根发，不知道为何微笑。

他应该是个好人吧，这我很清楚。因为如果事实不如此，难道你会喜欢上他吗？我不假装了解你对他的感情，但总会忧心万一你被他伤害。这样会不会太过分？

我的人很普通。也和你只是一般的人，没什么特别特出的方面。 我缺乏能力买下你所欲望的东西，也没什么珍贵的东西给你。我只有我的心与我的艺术，对一些人来说是一无所有。

我无能， 也不答应天长地久，我所答应的是我的心与你的幸福。
因为你可能就是我所有幸福的理由。

Life: An interlude

如果有一天你突然在我身上找到了欣赏，那有多好。但我想，这暂时是个不可能的事。你心中已有了别人，我怎么改变你的心？我根本就不想。这就是事实。

I don't belive in promises of forever, "fun" relationships or monetary and public displays of affection. I may have nothing much to give, I hope it's enough. Why does fame and money trump other merits? Are people that blind?

或许我不配。也许我是个笨小孩；傻傻地，没原因地去爱一个人。
不。是我幼稚，一失去了爱就想找另一个来代替她。只要能爱一个人就够了。
我曾经想过：这可说是值得的吗?
 
Perhaps it is because I move on fast. Life goes on no matter how hurt you are. And so we must endure; all the hurt and pain, the sorrow and solitude. We hide it away behind a mask of contented happiness.
We want more to be happy for.

Reality At Last

To awaken from a dream is to face reality again. Waking from a nightmare doesn't seem to give the sense of appreciation and safety because we are not endangered perpetually. But waking from a beautiful dream, especially when your life sucks; you just want to get back in bed and dream again.

Imagine a world where we fight daily for our existence. Perhaps creatures of darkness and nightmares and the ones that we can't even have nightmare about lurking the earth, where everyone is in danger. Or even just living in the forest, everyday bringing something unknown. People would value people more.

Maybe it's fanatical to think of this, living with Death himself behind your shoulder. But maybe you don't know what it's like to feel pure solitude, that you're the only one of your kind in the whole world.

The real question isn't what would you do if you were going to die tomorrow.
It's if you die right now, would it matter?

Living with nothing

There are only too many quotations which speak of everything and nothing, how they lay almost intertwined, how fine is the line that separates them. Maybe you'll never know what it's like to live like I did, or maybe you do, in which case you would not see me to be blind to the sufferings of others.

Living with a flawed childhood damages you. Whether the wounds can be mended is entirely up to ourselves and our environment. It seems as if everything before things changed was a dream, or maybe this is the dream now. It doesn't matter. Either you make it, or you don't. There is nothing to be felt for those drowning under. It is indescribably sad but it's reality.

You know what's worse than living in suffering?
Living in suffering while having a facade of happiness you didn't put there. Everyone thinks you're fine, until you break, and everyone calls you dramatic, crazy, emo; because they know not.

I Never Really Left

Someday, you'll know that I never really left; I will always be your guarding angel, but maybe I don't deserve to be called an angel. Forever just a star to light the darkest days and the murky twilight; only to fade into my own world when your sun shines again.

That is what I was, and what I don't want to be.

You often tell me I'm not wanted. I always wondered if you meant it; or perhaps you meant the opposite? Perhaps it's your idea of a joke. I'm ok with that. And yet, when I say it's fine that way, you'll not let go, and drown me even more.

Unconsciously I wonder about the future; what life would be like with you. Everything I see is beautiful, except that they are merely thoughts, idealisms, immaterial fantasies. When reality strikes me, you would shed tears should you see my pathetic sorrow.

I'll be gone soon. Then maybe you'll move on with your life like we never met; or maybe you'll seek the things only we had, and perhaps crave my company. Maybe you'd cry for me someday, and I would cry with you. Maybe you won't, but I'd still cry too.

Someday.
Just maybe you'll miss me like you said you will.
Maybe you won't, just like you said as well.
I'll be around.
I'll be waiting.

Someday.
Maybe I'll move on.
Maybe I'll see my rising sun.
I'll still be around.
Won't keep you waiting.

Someday.
You'll know.
And perhaps,
We will be forever more.

A written flower

Each morning I stare at the skies, always displaying a different image; the clouds never the same. One day a school of fish; another, trails of the wind. And the moon, her light began to wane. I fear that perhaps this love shall wane with her, and know that I am very much being paranoid.

When was it that we first met? Winter
When was it that we first spoke? Spring
And summer brought the blooming flowers.

I trust myself no longer.
I care not for what the others think.
All there is; is me, and you.
Shall we not dance to the summer melody?
Shall we not remember the summer nights?

Do you remember?

Remember the yellow sky on that day. The day we were strangers.
Remember the cool breeze on that evening. The sunset's blessing.

It was that day perhaps, the string of fate was cut.
It was that day, destiny had no dominion.

Remember that promise we made under the shining sky.
The unspoken promise, to never forget.
A mark on our hearts we carry to the end of the end.
Memories.
To be remembered; to be forgotten.

I return to the memory.
The setting sun still shone;
The calm winds still blew.

But I saw no one.