Of magical mistakes and little bribes

We live such fragile lives, I’ve realised. If only we could borrow time. If only time could be stretched, and passed around, from one to another. We need to treasure what we have right now, and take stock of what’s left, for we never know. And we need to know who are the ones we love, hold them tight and never let go.

Let’s spread our wings and take flight, and we’ll never look back. 

Been very intrigued by these black and white vintage prints. Shall hunt for more and turn them into notepads/cards that I can personalize for the people around me.

I thoroughly enjoy catching up with people. Makes me feel like I’ve missed out on so much of another’s life but somehow it strangely accentuates how I’ve missed them so much as well. People have this common misconception about me, that I’m always in the know, but honestly speaking, I usually am not. I’m certainly one of the last few people to know of things, things happening to so-and-so. Still trying to decide whether this is a good or bad thing for me.

Expended one shot (shot number two!) with my dear red as a siren Holga today. I shall name her Siren. Very befitting since she is bright red in colour, and she’s got 4 colour flashes to her name. Should really use up the shots soon I should be less timid about this if I want to get this right.

Oh, and, I’ve got something really good to look forward to after I finish with the army. I know its something I’d really enjoy, maybe not for the long-term, but still, for my pre-undergraduate-days it’d be a really worthy experience. Heh, I shan’t let the cat out of the bag yet.

They say I am tired. They don’t know what it is like. They say they can’t imagine.

But I’ve never imagined as well. But things do materialize. But I’ve never entirely been willing.

Yet I have. Yet we’ve pulled through. Yet there are so many things to my name. Yet, yet.

Now I know. Now I am proud to say. Now I feel like leaving it all behind. Now I want to rid my records of these voids. Now I don’t ever want to go back. 

Still the remnants stick around. Still they spill here, there. Still I am reminded. Still I have no other choice but to be brought back. 

I need to figure myself out.

Wasted days, wasted dimes.

Revel in them, revel in their nothingness.

We want to question, but it is suppression which greets us. 

They holed us in. With their selfishness, with their nothingness.

We breathe what we perceive; we are dependent.

It’s not wrong to want to be alone, sometimes, is it?

Stop, stop. Why didn’t we blow out the fire earlier? Now its all cinders and smoke.

Falter, all the way. Like leaves, swaying irrevocably. In the wind, but pretending not to. Collecting in months, in years, in memories. Coarse and concrete, stale and solid. We are not lacking, not lacking.