I have failed countless times to update this blog, and I have a feeling no one really reads anymore. However, since this was where I started writing it always feels most comforting to return to write short bit about my life here
I was browsing today this article where a number of individuals had submitted pictures or scans of their teenage diaries. I have hardly graduated out of teenhood myself; once a very interesting character told me that you don't truly stop being a teen until you've passed 25 years of age. Sometimes not even then. Yet I can't help but look at (the now hidden) entries that used to chronicle my life in secondary school and then in junior college. I was a very different person then, and yet, not so.
As I write this now, I am waiting for myself to fall asleep, for the memories in my head to die down so I may just tumble into a nice dreamless sleep.
Yet sleep evades me, as it naturally does when you need to wake mere hours later for the most important task of school. It feels so new all over again, because people just come and go and come back again.
But enough of my rambling, I should really try to at least close my eyes and lay down, and hope that eventually sleep will take me.
To all those people who left my life, I miss you. You know who you are
<3 M
marlz. daughter. sister. friend. cousin. girl. 1988. born to die.
torstaina, kesäkuuta 09, 2005
ghosts that refuse to linger
a ghost that refuses to lingerdon't ghosts always linger? some don't. some beg, plead with you to hold on, and grab hold of them. and when you reach your hand out, all it meets is air. emptiness. and the apparition is gone. it refuses to stay.
you know as a child you sit on the green grass aft you have played the morning away. you let the sun beat down on you in waves, but you take every blow. take me, you say. lets just see how much you think you can burn me. how foolish. you collapse on the grass, breathless with joy. nothing is like challenging the great great sky. you lie there, looking upwards, and see nothing but the soft sky, red and gold and violet and pink. the days pass like they would never end. yet you wish they would last forever, when the dark comes, silently driving out the little light left. you sit there and inhale deeply. each time, taking in the sweet sweet smell of green. the spicy aroma of fern. the musky scent of the woods. the intoxicating perfumes of nature. you sit there, biding time before someone comes to call you away to the safe, warm repose called home.
there are times you run in the rain. rejoicing that the world will wake up after the storm, clean and fresh. renewed. the smell of rain is nothing short of delightful. clear cool drops of happiness trickle down your face and body. and you don't stop running. play with the thunder. quick is the beat of your heart, and ruddy are your cheeks. it excites you. let the wind scream, howl in your ears. it won't stop you.
the days you watch the sunset. the merge between night and day. colours glide with each other. melt into one another. the sun, so far away and small now. it gives its last parting shot, a brilliance so beautiful, the moon would shy away. and then it melts away into the dark, allowing the hush of night to close in. and you creep away, fearing to disturb that silvery lull.
the silence of a child never fails to interest me. i wonder what they are thinking of. one may believe that a child never cares for anyone other than himself, and thus, his thoughts concern him alone. 'it', they call 'it' an appropriate way to refer to a child. hardly. a child notices things that we don't. they see things in a light so different. and they remember, keep those memories buried deep somewhere. so deep that its hard to recall anything but what things looked like, or felt like, or sounded like. strains of a song can send many images flooding back, and it makes me shudder. yes, it is physical. so much so that i wonder where i am in reality. whether i am the me i see now in the looking glass or that child who clung on to her mother's hand. the change is physical, and inside, i am very much that child with braids and red shoes. such is the power of your childhood memories.
perhaps, one day, we all can just sit at the seaside and enjoy the bracing sea air, not care about a single thing but ourselves, as we think children do. feel no sense of urgency. ignorance is no longer bliss as it was before, i believe.
i feel my eyelids drooping. it is time to retire. toodles~
marlz
6/09/2005 12:22:00 ip.