I used to be fearless.
I would wittingly and unwittingly get into situations, choose to decide things with little to almost no regard for consequences. I thought I could always come out of it stronger, battle-scars notwithstanding. I was unafraid of getting hurt, of falling and getting back up again. I've always believed that what doesn't kill me will only make me stronger.
I would wittingly and unwittingly get into situations, choose to decide things with little to almost no regard for consequences. I thought I could always come out of it stronger, battle-scars notwithstanding. I was unafraid of getting hurt, of falling and getting back up again. I've always believed that what doesn't kill me will only make me stronger.
But guess what? When life throws you more curve balls than you can handle, when you don't even know how to play ball, you find that all these bits and pieces just tear at your soul, black crows pecking at a carcass.
When have I started becoming more wary, more weary? Fearful of the unknown. No longer caring what the answers to my what-if questions are. Tired, is the word.
It seemed like eons ago when my philosophy was go lang ng go. It hurts me to think that not only have I been aflicted with such a cowardice of ignoring danger signs; I have not been growing at all. I have been hiding behind a curtain of pretend bravado. All along I thought I could fake it until I make it.
It seemed like eons ago when my philosophy was go lang ng go. It hurts me to think that not only have I been aflicted with such a cowardice of ignoring danger signs; I have not been growing at all. I have been hiding behind a curtain of pretend bravado. All along I thought I could fake it until I make it.
I find that moments of self-clarification are the most difficult to come by. Am I not silent enought? Am I not open enough? Mind rushing fast, fast forward lest I get behind...
But where does everyone go anyways? And do I want to go where everyone is?
It's hard to admit that sometimes you wish your life had taken a different path but it's harder to admit that you're not where you expected you would be. This is my 5-years-after- and it poses a more difficult question- what now?How now, brown cow?
It's hard to admit that sometimes you wish your life had taken a different path but it's harder to admit that you're not where you expected you would be. This is my 5-years-after- and it poses a more difficult question- what now?How now, brown cow?
I've read that the worst secrets are the kind you keep from yourself.
I've been shrouded in secrets all my life. Nobody knows the real me and ironically, neither do I.
I am usually quick to laugh, quick to cry.
Sometimes, when I laugh, it is not as easy, real and full.
But when I cry, it is always, always as deep and wounding, seldom cleansing.
I've been shrouded in secrets all my life. Nobody knows the real me and ironically, neither do I.
I am usually quick to laugh, quick to cry.
Sometimes, when I laugh, it is not as easy, real and full.
But when I cry, it is always, always as deep and wounding, seldom cleansing.
Still, it is with bittersweet appreciation that even the simplest of joys make me smile. It seems not much of a favor to ask to give me some break, to let me believe in myself even just for awhile, to let me correct my mistakes, because my only wish is to trust that good things can happen.
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