Secret War Journal[10 September 2012]
Hahas, I had been feeling angsty lately. So many emotions flooding in, finally after my long stasis due to army life.
What does this mean? This means it is time for me to write a post, to release these emotions. Even reading past posts of this nature helps me to unwind. Such is the power of my own writing on myself. Fragments of myself, shattered to allow me peace.
I had been being feeling rather insecure for the past 2 days, ever since I went home from dinner with my close friends. It is so bad, I feel like running away from everything.
I probably not getting brownie points from my family for not doing anything much at home. (I lost all mood to do anything, I just want to lie there...) For this moment, I hope they forgive me... just let me be because I feel as though I lost my motivation. For the common people, it is probably not life threatening.
To me, that was dangerous. My past continues to haunt me... It is like a shadow, I cannot run away from it. I guess the only way is to face it.
But I have been facing it everyday! It is plain as day to me every day!
Hope is disease.
I know that! But I need to hold on to something, something to prevent the further deteriorating of my soul.
Gods know how much I had been through...
In this world, there are probably many others like me who had been through those horrible moments. That brought little comfort to me. There is too much grief in this world.
--
What if one day, everything changed? What if, you wake up to find everything foreign? Sometimes we takes things for granted.
And I admit I do. That is why I am afraid. Would I rue the day I lose something, only to find it of value? I would certainly regret its loss. I would hate myself for allowing it to be gone. Why did I not put more effort to prevent its destruction?
Would I be able to live with that revelation?
Just how much more damage can I take before I lose it totally? All the insecurity due to the fact that I do not really know. That uncertainty breeds this feeling, because it lifts the stake. I fear failure not because I do not wish to appear weak. Rather, I fear its consequences...
"A friendship can weather most things and thrive in thin soil; but it needs a little mulch of letters and phone calls and small, silly presents every so often - just to save it from drying out completely." - Pam Brown
(Source: Kokoro Connect Episode 10; Credits: Randomc.net)
It was not my war then.
I realised that I am sort of the opposite person of who I was ten years ago. I used to be extremely impulsive, driven by my emotions. I used to be more carefree. I used to be more cheerful. As some would also say, I used to act more like a spoiled child.
Everything changed since my mother's death. The very thought makes me want to hug myself tightly because I feel so very cold. It is a reminder. A reminder that I am alone here. Ten years down the road, how many new friends had I made? Compare it to my other me.
But it is now my war.
Now, I exercise more restraint in my actions.
Now, I would rather be accused of being indecisive rather than make impulsive actions.
Now, I contain more of my thoughts within me.
Now, I find myself harder to laugh as carefree as before.
I lost much fighting this war.
Ten years since, I am still as alone as I ever was right after my mother's death.
Just how much really changed? My family is forever shattered. No amount can ever restore it to its former glory, its former warmth. Nothing I do, nothing my family do will help it piece itself together.
A mirror that had been shattered can never be placed back as one piece, like its former self. After all, what is broken can never be restored its original state. This is the same thing as trust.
I cannot back off now, not after committing so much into this war.
I used to trust freely. After that incident, I found it difficult to trust people. Some of my close friends might had realised it. It is probably the reason why I find it harder to make friends. After all, they are turned off by the fact that I do not trust them. It hurts them. In that, I am a heartless person because in the act of not wanting to get hurt, I hurt others instead...
Truly, how far had I fallen? Perhaps it is known unto God only.
Thus begins my recording of my struggles in my own war...
Thus was this Journal birthed,
From one's despair,
From one's hope,
Let this Journal live to tell the tale of a King who was slowly losing himself.
Hahas, I had been feeling angsty lately. So many emotions flooding in, finally after my long stasis due to army life.
What does this mean? This means it is time for me to write a post, to release these emotions. Even reading past posts of this nature helps me to unwind. Such is the power of my own writing on myself. Fragments of myself, shattered to allow me peace.
I had been being feeling rather insecure for the past 2 days, ever since I went home from dinner with my close friends. It is so bad, I feel like running away from everything.
I probably not getting brownie points from my family for not doing anything much at home. (I lost all mood to do anything, I just want to lie there...) For this moment, I hope they forgive me... just let me be because I feel as though I lost my motivation. For the common people, it is probably not life threatening.
But for a short moment, I lost the will to live.
To me, that was dangerous. My past continues to haunt me... It is like a shadow, I cannot run away from it. I guess the only way is to face it.
Hope is disease.
I know that! But I need to hold on to something, something to prevent the further deteriorating of my soul.
Gods know how much I had been through...
In this world, there are probably many others like me who had been through those horrible moments. That brought little comfort to me. There is too much grief in this world.
--
What if one day, everything changed? What if, you wake up to find everything foreign? Sometimes we takes things for granted.
Would I be able to live with that revelation?
Just how much more damage can I take before I lose it totally? All the insecurity due to the fact that I do not really know. That uncertainty breeds this feeling, because it lifts the stake. I fear failure not because I do not wish to appear weak. Rather, I fear its consequences...
"A friendship can weather most things and thrive in thin soil; but it needs a little mulch of letters and phone calls and small, silly presents every so often - just to save it from drying out completely." - Pam Brown
(Source: Kokoro Connect Episode 10; Credits: Randomc.net)
It was not my war then.
I realised that I am sort of the opposite person of who I was ten years ago. I used to be extremely impulsive, driven by my emotions. I used to be more carefree. I used to be more cheerful. As some would also say, I used to act more like a spoiled child.
Everything changed since my mother's death. The very thought makes me want to hug myself tightly because I feel so very cold. It is a reminder. A reminder that I am alone here. Ten years down the road, how many new friends had I made? Compare it to my other me.
But it is now my war.
Now, I exercise more restraint in my actions.
Now, I would rather be accused of being indecisive rather than make impulsive actions.
Now, I contain more of my thoughts within me.
Now, I find myself harder to laugh as carefree as before.
I lost much fighting this war.
Ten years since, I am still as alone as I ever was right after my mother's death.
Just how much really changed? My family is forever shattered. No amount can ever restore it to its former glory, its former warmth. Nothing I do, nothing my family do will help it piece itself together.
A mirror that had been shattered can never be placed back as one piece, like its former self. After all, what is broken can never be restored its original state. This is the same thing as trust.
I cannot back off now, not after committing so much into this war.
I used to trust freely. After that incident, I found it difficult to trust people. Some of my close friends might had realised it. It is probably the reason why I find it harder to make friends. After all, they are turned off by the fact that I do not trust them. It hurts them. In that, I am a heartless person because in the act of not wanting to get hurt, I hurt others instead...
Truly, how far had I fallen? Perhaps it is known unto God only.
Thus begins my recording of my struggles in my own war...
Thus was this Journal birthed,
From one's despair,
From one's hope,
Let this Journal live to tell the tale of a King who was slowly losing himself.
