1986
why is it that we sometimes want to hurt the people that we love the most? its funny how the pain you feel is both a part of you and yet not a part of you, that when you look at the person walk silently away, that some empty black hole somehow seems to open up inside of you and it sucks at your innards, like some greedy baby suckling on a teat.
and then you think: hey, this can get better. all i have to do is ....... and then you realise that some part of you doesn't want to do it because somehow, if the memory stays painful, not pain painful mind you, but nostalgic painful, then it would somehow be immortalized inside your memory.
sometimes i think familiarity takes away that air of mystery. familiarity takes away the rose tinted glasses and the soft-spoken rememberences and leaves us with the bitter reality. somehow, by breaking the connection forever, we can both have our rose tinted memories to fall back upon. we'd always remember ourselves as those who loved and were loved.
i guess you kinda get hurt both ways, but one way is bitter reality, the other is different. its like flying away on the clouds. flying so so far away and leaving everyone behind. and though you know that you'll have new experiences and new, wonderful things happening to you in the clouds, that the feeling of leaving youre loved ones behind, leaving your life behind...its like a double edged knife that cuts through you on one blade and soothes you with its cool metal on the other side.
i bet everyone feels this way sometime or other. i bet you've felt it too, as you read this post, you're wondering what's so special about this one, what's so different?
the point is that it isnt different at all. its all the same. but then again, thats also what makes each and every experience so different.
am i making sense? i dont think so. not many people will read this post and understand what i am trying to convey, maybe you think you know but youre thinking of something else. but hey, dont let that stop you. you perceive this post as you would perceive a flower blooming. some see beauty and potential for a full life; others see nothing more than another life cycle.
i suppose life's all about cycles, isnt it? we are born, we live and then we die. somewhere in between we fit in meaning and change and growing up and all the other multitudes of things that a life can hold. such fullness, such ripeness, such pity.
the pity of it. of leaving something you love behind. love is like holding water in the palm of your hands. if you grasp it too hard, it will just flow through your palms. sometimes you just have to relax and cradle it and only then will it fit nicely.
sometimes you have to let go i guess. you have to say goodbye so you can fly off into the clouds and maybe over there you will find what you are looking for. and if you dont then i guess its a long long fall all the way to the ground...
but we pick ourselves up again and we try, like Icarus, except that we never die. there is no ocean to fall into because we've used the droplets of water to build our dreams in the skies. how quaint.
cycles of struggle and trying. isnt that what epic poets dream about? isnt that what Calliope gifts us? monumental struggles of human existence, and somewhere, between a cup of coffee and a smile to yourself, you believe that it is all worth it. and it is.
and you wake up one day and you find yourself...where? in the clouds or on the ground? another struggle to fly again, to search for that castle in the sky. it never ends, maybe thats why it fascinates us. it also never really begins, thats another reason why we are drawn to it. the whole struggle. the whole existence.
so i guess its time for us, for me, to fly. and leave you behind. but dont worry, youll never forget me and ill never forget you because we have our rose tinted memories and in the end thats all that matters.
how far do you think it is to the sky?
and then you think: hey, this can get better. all i have to do is ....... and then you realise that some part of you doesn't want to do it because somehow, if the memory stays painful, not pain painful mind you, but nostalgic painful, then it would somehow be immortalized inside your memory.
sometimes i think familiarity takes away that air of mystery. familiarity takes away the rose tinted glasses and the soft-spoken rememberences and leaves us with the bitter reality. somehow, by breaking the connection forever, we can both have our rose tinted memories to fall back upon. we'd always remember ourselves as those who loved and were loved.
i guess you kinda get hurt both ways, but one way is bitter reality, the other is different. its like flying away on the clouds. flying so so far away and leaving everyone behind. and though you know that you'll have new experiences and new, wonderful things happening to you in the clouds, that the feeling of leaving youre loved ones behind, leaving your life behind...its like a double edged knife that cuts through you on one blade and soothes you with its cool metal on the other side.
i bet everyone feels this way sometime or other. i bet you've felt it too, as you read this post, you're wondering what's so special about this one, what's so different?
the point is that it isnt different at all. its all the same. but then again, thats also what makes each and every experience so different.
am i making sense? i dont think so. not many people will read this post and understand what i am trying to convey, maybe you think you know but youre thinking of something else. but hey, dont let that stop you. you perceive this post as you would perceive a flower blooming. some see beauty and potential for a full life; others see nothing more than another life cycle.
i suppose life's all about cycles, isnt it? we are born, we live and then we die. somewhere in between we fit in meaning and change and growing up and all the other multitudes of things that a life can hold. such fullness, such ripeness, such pity.
the pity of it. of leaving something you love behind. love is like holding water in the palm of your hands. if you grasp it too hard, it will just flow through your palms. sometimes you just have to relax and cradle it and only then will it fit nicely.
sometimes you have to let go i guess. you have to say goodbye so you can fly off into the clouds and maybe over there you will find what you are looking for. and if you dont then i guess its a long long fall all the way to the ground...
but we pick ourselves up again and we try, like Icarus, except that we never die. there is no ocean to fall into because we've used the droplets of water to build our dreams in the skies. how quaint.
cycles of struggle and trying. isnt that what epic poets dream about? isnt that what Calliope gifts us? monumental struggles of human existence, and somewhere, between a cup of coffee and a smile to yourself, you believe that it is all worth it. and it is.
and you wake up one day and you find yourself...where? in the clouds or on the ground? another struggle to fly again, to search for that castle in the sky. it never ends, maybe thats why it fascinates us. it also never really begins, thats another reason why we are drawn to it. the whole struggle. the whole existence.
so i guess its time for us, for me, to fly. and leave you behind. but dont worry, youll never forget me and ill never forget you because we have our rose tinted memories and in the end thats all that matters.
how far do you think it is to the sky?
posted by tim tay at 9:17 PM
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