| lost. |
[Jun. 21st, 2009|12:43 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  confused | ] |
some days i really need you. |
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|
| (no subject) |
[May. 23rd, 2009|11:24 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  apathetic | ] |
drip. drip.
drop.
|
|
|
| conscious unconscious |
[Apr. 2nd, 2009|08:14 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  weird | ] |
Today I had what I believe was my first lucid dream. I recall somehow realising that I was asleep in bunk, and thus was dreaming. I remember pinching my face and feeling no pain, instead a fuzzy feeling, like pins and needles sans the agony. More like white noise on telly. Bzz.. Bzz..
Some guy wearing a white tee and jeans with an indistinct face walked by and I looked at him, commanding "Explode!".
But he didn't!
He looked at me nonchalently and said "I don't explode", brushing me off lightly and walking away.
So I tried to conjure up thousands of hot babes, every one that I could possibly dream of. (pun intended.)
But that didn't work either.
My mind must have thought, "What the heck. Wake up."
And so I did, thinking what a strange first lucid dream that was. |
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|
| entropy |
[Mar. 31st, 2009|10:27 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  pensive | ] |
The eye of the mind. Plant something inside that everyone can see and you will succeed. Because they will believe.
-----------
Reality is as you see it. What if the world is what you've imagined in your head, and nothing else? Or certain things don't "exist", but are conjured of the mind?
-----------
It's so interesting to see the difference between the believers and non-believers. The question of absolute faith vs questioning your faith. The betterment of grades, the quitting of smoking, the changes in character for right morals and values. The effect is the same, the cause difffers: One says God inspired it, another believes in the "human effect". Neither can be said to be wrong. What is of interest here is the upbringing of these two individuals - what led to their present beliefs.
How easily the believer can be exploited, whether the believer is weak-minded. How the non-believer, in only believing in himself, fails to succeed in simply being limited by himself, his means, instead of believing that everything is possible, that miracles can happen. |
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|
| stardust |
[Mar. 16th, 2009|12:26 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sleepy | ] |
"i don't like you. no, i don't love you either."
and with those words, a fragment of his fragile heart chipped away and splintered into a million pieces.
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|
|
| the silent voice |
[Feb. 28th, 2009|02:05 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blank | ] |
in the quiet of the night, a tap-tap-tapping on my keyboard. i have lost the motivation to write, to type, to keep the memories of this wretched life. it's more like a black canvas with splotches of bright colours than a clean one with blotted spots.
the fingers, they don't move so well anymore. words come out jumbled, mixed, like the typing of a dyslexic person. but oh the phrases, the sentences, the paragraphs, they inundate my head and swish around so fluently, looking for a means of escape. but there is none. not from the hands, neither the tongue. twisted or tied or whatever they call it.
but maybe, just maybe, if i sit here in the quiet of the night, tap-tap-tapping on my keyboard, the voice inside my head can be born and see light. concentrate. focus on each character. let it come to life and dance on the white paper (or the script as they call it), except this is no pulp from the trees, trees that have lived and basked under the radiant sunlight. this is but a false creation of life, dubbed as 'virtual reality'.
and as suddenly as it began, it so abruptly stops. |
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|
| http://www.powertyping.com/typing_test/typing_test.shtml |
[Feb. 22nd, 2009|10:04 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | blah | ] |
your typing rate is : 60 wpm
words typed : 75
mistakes made : 18
which is 14.4 mistakes per minute
your typing rate is : 70 wpm
words typed : 84
mistakes made : 14
which is 11.7 mistakes per minute
your typing rate is : 74 wpm
words typed : 57
mistakes made : 9
which is 11.5 mistakes per minute
and so i realise that my psychomotor skills have slowly but surely begun to walk the path of decadence.
i can shoot. i can run. i can do chin-ups. i can jump. i can climb obstacles.
but i can't type. i can't write. i can't speak.
explains the lousy word challenge scores.
(ugh. i hate the millions of typos i'm having.) |
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|
| what do you fear |
[Feb. 21st, 2009|01:01 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | confused | ] |
where have i been all this while?
it's like a rude awakening from a saccharin slumber, a sleep so sweet it kills me inside. |
|
|
| welcome, 2009. |
[Jan. 1st, 2009|10:19 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
new year, new resolutions. new friends, new experiences. new opportunities, new challenges. 2009 is steeped in novelty, freshness of a new beginning, leaving behind the manacles and chains of the past year.
time. that which you can run from but never hide. another year etched onto our bodies; memories imbrued into our heads; emotions carved into our hearts.
goodbye, 2008.
(i wish.. i wish.. i could write this better.) |
|
|
| untitled. |
[Dec. 18th, 2008|01:11 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  listless | ] |
break my heart, why don't you. |
|
|
| smell the flowers. |
[Dec. 14th, 2008|04:17 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | numb | ] |
only in scarcity do we treasure these precious moments. |
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|
| the aged demon |
[Oct. 3rd, 2008|02:08 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | sleepy | ] |
the lonely gait of a shadow under the crepuscular sky. |
|
|
| -poke- |
[Sep. 10th, 2008|10:09 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | pensive | ] |
stolen moments.
pockets of time here and there.
grasping desperately at the memories. |
|
|
| and the dust settles |
[Aug. 10th, 2008|01:56 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | contemplative | ] |
i wonder what happened.
i forgot. |
|
|
| fleetingly |
[Jun. 28th, 2008|01:40 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | sad | ] |
i wish i could tell you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you,
how much you are loved and missed.
but it's late at night and the sandman beckons and i can't find the strength nor courage to search for the footprint i left in the sands of your heart. and though i know these are mere excuses, please, for one more time, let me succumb.
i love you all.
p.s. why are all my closest friends so emo? |
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|
| aphonic |
[Jun. 28th, 2008|01:06 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | thoughtful | ] |
-adjective
mouthed but not spoken; noiseless; silent.
after a month-long lull period, i'm back to typing my thoughts, my feelings and my memories back in this digital space. it's been a while. I haven't been writing very much and truth to be told, it's appalling how my standard of english has slowly deteriorated in the short span of six months. vocabulary-wise at the very least. browsing through the list of words i once knew, a certain kind of melancholy sets in, a sadness of losing the alphabets and phonetics. while the basal level of comprehension remains, as it would indefinitely, the words, the sentences, the paragraphs don't converge impeccably.
it's a pity. |
|
|
| musings. |
[Apr. 20th, 2008|05:38 pm] |
they say the nsboys never grow up to become the nsmen. within the two years of confinements and burnt weekends, an nsf loses life experience. while the earth continues its rotation around its axis, nsfs are oblivious to the changing perspectives and mindsets of their friends, family, relatives. the rest of the world matures, while the nsf remains unchanged, creating the schisms in relationships.
it's a lie.
the nsboy does grow. he grows to comply without question. he grows to seize every brief moment of freedom in spite of the costs. he grows to survive on minimal sleep for maximum time. he grows to see the world through suffering and pain.
he grows cold. bitter. resentful. |
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