The Lies in Our Memories

Why is it that we always look back on the past so fondly?
Was it really so much better than the here and now?
Were all the idyllic sepia framed moments infinitely more prolific and passionate?

Was the world a better place?
Was life a little better to live?
Was our unfurling scroll of scripted cares meagre in comparison?

No, not really.
Its just that in our memories are the product,
the final polished film,
framed for our minds.

They're wonderful, memories.
The mundane gaps of life slip to the floor in editing suites,
and the hours of suspense are bridged with special effects.

Its all highlights,
with vibrance that doesn't quite match that of the original time and place
but its better,
isn't it?

I mean,
the only hints of dreary reality are merely for contrast and effect.

The pretty pictures are a delightful destination to reminisce,
but too much duller than the truth to dwell.

I'd rather live in the here and now.
Appreciate the colours we see so true.

Check out my ojiisan's blogpost on a similar topic..
I stole his picture and replaced my old one for this post... after reading
(I will be using the old one for a new blogpost, later, after exams, and I'll replace the link then)

The Truth in Our Nightmares

We're scared.
All so very scared.

We're running from shredded ambition.
Fleeing haunting pasts.
Grasping onto what we know.

In the light,
we walk with eyes glued shut,
but in the dark,
we pry them awake in fear.

Our nightmares,
they tell us this:

We're human and we're vulnerable.
Our hearts are littered with cares.
Our minds fettered with worries.

But nevermind,
fragility is beautiful.

ps. I have been having incapacitating urges (aka cravings) for noodles. Mother dearest made me a bowl for dinner (:
mmm yummy.
It's amazing what delicious noodles in a warm bowl of soup can do ^^
Happiness :3
edit: in retrospect this was a pretty poor 50th post haha but woooo, half a century!

Unscrewed Jars

I imagine this is what finishing exams will be like.
I also imagine this is a perfect representation of people.

I want to be a free fluttering butterfly,
the lone thrill seeker on the bottom left,
or the keen flyer with company on the top right.

I don't want to be stuck in the jar.
I don't want to be tangled in the chaotic, claustrophobic community.
I don't want to be soaring so high and close that I lose my colour.

To do your own thing,
but not alienate yourself.
To love and be loved,
but not conform.

But yeah, this photo is sah purdy.
That is all.

A lot of my past few posts have been inspired by the image rather than the image fitting the post.
Apologies for my lack of posting as I cough pathetically, wheeze and attempt to deliver oxygen to my brain to prevent disgusting headache. Yes I'm begging for sympathy, no I can't excuse my writer's block.

Blank Canvas

We people are just poems

- Ani DiFranco

We begin as a piece of paper,
blank,
merely blank?

There is unthinkable power in being blank.
There is an unwritten future,
endless potential,
to become.

Whether we begin as a recycled scrap,
billowing in the slums,
or in a scented and embossed "stationery set"
destined for empowerment speech drafts,
nothing is set in stone.

It is in the hands of the writer to determine how great it will be.

There's no such thing, as a saint without a history
Or a sinner without a future.

- Madina Lake

Drifting

As the years pass, people walk in and out of our lives.
Friends we grow up with and amiable acquaintances who we happen upon for stretches of the path.
But sometimes we weary of our companions,
no matter how dear they are to us.
Or we start to pursue separate trails,
in hope of reaching our separate destinations.

We grow, and our eyes are opened to the world,
gradually,
bit by bit,
we start to see different things.
The light reflecting in our eyes are,
suddenly,
beaming from different directions.
The glowing embers housing different hues.

And its such a shame.
For we know each other too well to risk becoming enemies,
and we're too used to each other to let go,
but we have to.
Its the only way to save us,
by leaving behind a perfect memory,
and cutting the film before it turns awry.

Whisper Your Wishes Into the Wind

You never know who will hear them.

There are so many things we want, we're never quite fully satisfied.
But whenever we do get what we want, we're left in the lurch.
Because there are consequences.
Always, consequences.
But if I could have 3 wishes granted,
and no repercussions,
right now:

I'd ask for the dedication and motivation to work harder for my goals.
When I see anyone put their head down to slave away studying or labour tirelessly over their passion,
I am seized by admiration, inspiration and this tiny green fleck of seething jealousy.

I'd ask for deep, hidden pockets of time.
Not actually part of the 24 hour day, but a perpetual parallax whither I could escape, to just think,
or not, and just gaze vacantly at the sky.
Or even to re-watch Gilmore Girls and Daria and Scrubs and Devil Beside You and every other series I have ever enjoyed.

I'd ask for a teleportation device.
So I could visit those I miss so dearly and be frequently reminded of their lovely smiles.

Of course, I'd probably have to erase one of those and chance it to and end to world poverty, world peace and the power to fix global warming if I really had 3 wishes but just let me indulge myself for today.
^^

Ooh and tumblr challenge (day five).

People, Places, Familiar Faces

Tonight was the beginning,
"the beginning of the end"
according to our school.

We dined,
we reflected
and processed,
beneath the arched ceilings of our chapel,
between the pews,
in the dark,
illuminating the room with candlelit cellophane covering handcrafted tinted lanterns.
It was beautiful.

And even though I have been accused of crying at the drop of a hat,
I didn't shed a tear.
Though I definitely came close.

I can't say I'm close to everyone in my year level,
I can't even say that I tolerate them all.
But these are people who I have grown up with.

They are the victims of bad moods,
the opponents in bitch fights,
the sources of trivial gossip.

They are the faces in my memories,
the smiles in the morning,
the hugs in the corridors,
and the laughter that lights up each corner of my life.

And as we are engulfed by the uncertain future,
they are the open arms that we long to shelter in forever.