Sonder

It's actually kinda funny.

I was sitting in a final twisting my brain trying to find an answer for a question. It felt so clear to me as if I could almost just reach into that little drawer in my brain and pull the answer out. As I was sitting there having this mental struggling, I found myself distracted somehow and my eyes were unconsciously focused on some strangers' head.

I was unknowingly staring at this person's head long before I started to wonder what, at that exact moment, is going on in that head. Are they searching, like me, for an answer to some question, or are they planning out the perfect weekend schedule.

I don't know.

Sonder is a funny word. It hugs the fine line between genuine curiosity and utter creepiness; but I do it anyway.  Others' stories are always more interesting than mine right?

Reminder

I am never afraid of honesty. When that bitter air flows around, bringing currents made of knives, cutting me into fragments, I only taste the sweet, sorrowful, but honest scent. 

If that stands true, if that’s what I expect of passerby’s in my life, why do I personally fall short of that hollow statement? 

Why can’t I be brutally true and naked in the eyes of others when I so desperately desire their looks to be revealing and just?

I only look into myself and find that poisonous mirror reflecting only what I want to see. No. It reflects what I want to become; and I see this slender, elegant, yet pretentious and vain shape giving me a haughty smile so hollow it haunts. 

But I look closer. I look past the blurry outlines of that shape and the feigned smile, and I found this vileness pooling in the sockets of whose face I recognized as my own. It creeps down, through the curves of my cheekbones, pouring out from the pair of ajar lips that twitch in disgust. 

And that vileness cries out, in agony, of imperfections I found so aggravating within my soul. It mocks, in roaring silence, that shallow figure appearing in the mirror and threatens to burn and shatter it in cruelty unimagined.

What keeps this vileness and this facade apart, as I take steps back, is my insecurity. This minotaur stretches its rippling arms and stops the collision, and then stares at me in utter arrogance; because its so powerful and invulnerable. 

I must kill that beast.

I must drain that vileness.

And I must blow away the smokey facade and shatter that poisonous mirror.

And then I can truly inspect this world, with bright eyes in such curiosity. 

I shall have tougher skin. I shall have clearer vision.

And I then will learn love. I will learn intimacy.

Like never before.

Beginning

Yet another fall, yet another semester.

This is a new beginning indeed.

Not in a metaphorical way though. This is tangible. It's differences I can see and feel, not simply numbers comparing the "before" and "after". 

And I feel revived. This revitalization seems to bring back some hope and happiness that are much needed and desired in my life right now; and I can see it and feel it because, this cheerfulness, is real to me.

Looking back at all the things that disappointed me so much, I don't sense that dark scent of bitterness. It only leaves a alerting pinch in my mind enabling me to look at these incidents from a critical view. 

This reflection thing, does bring me a nonchalant mood; because they paint a story about how much one person can mature in one year; and I am that story. I matured so much in one year.

That is why I am proud of this beginning.

That is why I call this a new beginning.

Idle

I was asked yesterday by a close friend what is the point of living. To be quite frank, at the moment I was intoxicated and was unable to reply anything but mutter the meaningless phrase "talk to me if you need it"; because my initial reaction was that he considered suicide.

Though the scare that he might actually consider taking his life is cleared, I couldn't help but still ponder his question. Was I unable to give an answer because I was intoxicated or was I unable to give an answer. Period.

The truth is, I have been up for 3 hours today, and all I have done is idling, wandering from place to place, doing nothing but satisfying some of my basic needs as a human being.

I don't want to blame this idling that has been consuming the past two weeks of my life on the fact that I am somehow "forced" to be alone in an environment that so closely resembles confinement; because that would imply that this idling is given to me and I have no choice but to silently accept it and pretend that, at this moment, there is a point to my livelihood.

People has discussed and always will discuss, even fight in a heated argument, the point of living and if our mundane activities, in fact, have significances in the flow of history.

I rather not look beyond this period of idling and shout out empty words, saying how I will be making a point of my living by doing so and so; because opportunities come in the most random occasions and none of the talks will make sense even if I plan out my life in a hundred and one ways.

Even if this sentiment can be interpreted as negative and depressed, I nonetheless wonder, within this period of time before I take off for Japan, if my life at this moment has a point.

Waking up only to find emptiness within my skull and every cell in my body; making plans only so I can go back at night and think how hollow those plans are. It is quite pathetic.

They haunt me though.

This emptiness that consumes me, nonetheless, reminds me how there is the possibility of change; and it pains me, as if a sharp needle is slowly and fervently piercing the back of my neck, and threatens to eventually open an empty, hollow hole in my throat and take my life.

It pains me, because I can change. I can use all this time to do something much better than idling, than whining. I can learn something. I can do something. I can improve something.

And it pains me, because I am not doing any of those things.

Rather, I idle.

Young

I feel young.

Wrapping up this first year of college was... whimsical. The prolonged winter and its depressing weather had definitely an saddening effect on my mood.

I'm not complaining though.

This... 6 months long winter had definitely blew some calming winds in and chill my mind a little so I'd actually look back and think a little.

I am young. And I'm growing. Experiences I gained this year are not definable. They nonetheless contributed to this growth; Even though I wouldn't necessarily cherish it.

There are definitely moments of piercing wind hitting my heart, making me question if I was in fact, young, if I can actually play care-free.

At this moment, however, with all my belongings packed up and boxed, and my wall all bare leaving no trace of my being there, I feel.. young.

Weird

Fascination is a weird thing.

If you carry it a little further over the line, it becomes another F word - fetish.

I have this fascination.

It's nothing big. It's like the little mole on my thumb, the odd shaped freckle down my spine and some scars covering my knee cap.

It sometimes worries me. My fascination with people that is.

I think I am fascinated with the way my fascination with particular humans functions.

It creeps up my neck, through my spinal cord, and comes into the center of my brain as if someone gave it authority to do so. Like a rash if you will.

It doesn't irritates much, but it bothers you a little.

Just a little though.

That's my fascination.

And like a rash it displays a glorious yet sinister splash of red, then like a rash, quietly, yet violently exits and disappears leaving no trail of evidence that it was there moments ago.

My fascination is that rash.

At this present moment, my body and my soul are swallowed up by this inevitable rash that presents itself once in a while.

Screaming and displaying authority.

Telling me that it is taking over my thoughts and turning me into this fool that can't be bothered by anything but a weird fascination.



A fascination for a particular human.

Late

I think humans are obsessed with the idea of a journey because of the possibility, opportunity and uncertainty this journey symbolizes.

I have been on many journeys. As a young child, I was forced to move from schools to schools because of the financial situation my family was in at the time. Each time we moved, I was faced with a journey. I can't quite recall the exact emotion I had as a child about these journeys forced upon me, but I do know one thing, they made me who I am today.

Then there's the journey that took me to the place I am today. As difficult as it may appear, the journey that took me across oceans and continents didn't quite give me anxiety or fear that most would assume one might have. I remember feeling peaceful and calm as I took the offer to go study abroad all by myself. No tears nor struggles. I just said yes.

The journey I took to New York City, however, went exactly as I expected ‑ filled with anticipation and anxiety. These are the kind of emotions that you experience as a child, when you wait for the moment to tear open a gift on Christmas day, or getting ready to see your favorite grandma.. I don't know. 

Nevertheless, the city brought back in me this childlike excitement that I have lost connection with for a long time. 

Despite all the cliches about New York City, the city itself overcame me completely the moment I stepped off on 34th street. And for the next five days, my journey was filled with endless glamour and made-true fairytales that I used to watch on TV.

As I return, however, back to reality, I found this emptiness, for lack of a better word to describe this state of being, inside of me;And I kept thinking how I want to indulge in the liveliness and endless energy that seems to fill every corner of New York City. I want to be in that environment where tired faces and labored bodies are buried under the bright city lights and see the pretend beauty in every silhouette turning in the busy streets trying to find a piece of earth where they can call home. I want to climb to the top of Rockefeller Center and behold twinkling stars from below while trying to feel some aesthetic inspiration granted to me by that experience as if I was somebody important or of great intelligence and artistry; and ultimately, fitting into the sweet city air permeated with scents of sweat, fumes, smokes, greed, desires that very accurately paints the lowest of human nature and the most joyous aspects of humanity.

I guess what I am trying to say, this late at night sitting in a small room by myself, is that I am ready to take on this ongoing journey called higher education and hope for the best that I come out of it with something to prove my value and be equal to the standard of New York City.