Treasures from the past

I was rummaging through my old files and folders from ages ago, and uncovered an old folder of stories.

Reading some of them scared me a little to be honest. Most of them were from when I was 13, and now, as a supposedly mature and independent 19 year-old who's working her way to a university degree (and upon graduation, a job), I feel not only overwhelmed by the passion of my 13 year-old self but also of my lost ambition; of my unwavering conviction of who I was and what I was going to do with my life. I didn't let what other people think deter what I thought. There was so much bravado in my writing. So much melodrama and over emphasise and cliches, yet it's sad to say that I had so much more rhythm in my writing compared to now.

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Revelation

"A resolution which surprised herself brought her into the fields this week for the first time in many months. After wearing and wasting her palpitating heart with every engine of regret that lonely inexperience could devise, common sense had illumined her. She felt that she would do well to be useful again - to taste anew sweet independence at any price. The past was past; whatever it had been was no more at hand. Whatever its consequences, time would close over them; they would all in a few years be as if they had never been, and she herself grassed down and forgotten. Meanwhile the trees were just as green as before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened because of her grief, nor sickened because of her pain."

-- Tess, Tess of the D'Urbevilles (Thomas Hardy)

~~~


"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live"

NOTE TO SELF

I am such a freaking retard.

Next time I do something as dumb as this again, please follow the following procedure:

Step one: Stop hating myself
Step two: Stop wallowing in my loss
Step three: Repeatedly smack my head against the desk until I lose consciousness
Step four: Ideally lose all memory of doing said stupid thing and proceed to start again on work as if the last four hours hadn't happened

Step five: NEVER DO SOMETHING DUMB LIKE THIS EVER AGAIN

A guitar song

Sitting by myself in the window seat at subway. A melancholic guitar melody strums from the radio and drifts to people walking hurriedly outside. I wonder if they hear it? The song seems to seep through me. I feel like I'm transcending the monotonous landscape of my dull surroundings and one of those people outside must have pressed play on a secret brain controlling remote while walking past. A ridiculous musical montage begins attacking my thoughts. I'm given no peace and quiet to wallow in solitude. I'm forced instead to relive ridiculously happy memories of us as the guitar strums on, suddenly so annoying and crisp and cheery.I feel like I'm in an Asian music video where the girl dwells in guilt of her rage at some hot boyfriend figure and then proceeds to reminense in a cliched flash back of their most heart warming moments; stitched together into a neat little montage by a soulful and tender voice humming over the light strum of a few shy guitar notes.

This is really ridiculous...the subway lady must have put something in my meatballs.

Bring back the old days?

So I found myself still awake during the early hours of the morning again today, reading page after page after page of a delicious Harry Potter fanfiction I just couldn't put down. Snuggled up in my big warm bed with layers of smothering cotton duvet piled around me like a giant hug, listening to the pattering rain outside my window, reading line after giggling line of dramione, I really felt so warm and content and safe that it makes me want to dive right back into my duvets again even thought it's 4pm in the afternoon.

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White flag

I won't go down with this ship
I won't hold my head up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Will I go down with this ship?
Will I hold my head up and surrender?
Will there be my white flag above your door
I'm in love

Always will be

Hold on to your sanity

Lately I've realised that deep down, everyone's really screwed in the head in some way. Inside every single person lies a pool of insecurities they hide from the world. But the thing is, some people deal with it fine right?

There are some people who are like these strong fearless beasts, able to hold their head up high and proudly stalk through a sea of onlookers without even so much as blinking an eye over what other people might think of them.

But then, there are also those people who only pretend to act fearless, pretend to hold their head up and not care about such things when really deep down, it's slowly gnawing away at their conscience and sanity and eating them up. It takes away their confidence. Happiness. Reason.

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