Dramatic Hullabaloo.

Coming Home.

2011-07-31T23:45:00.005+10:00

Oh, how I've missed this space.

All those ideas that flitted about in my mind: words, phrases, eloquent sentences; how they so eagerly awaited to be splayed across these pages as memoirs, never to be erased, and certainly never to be forgotten. Words, words, and more words that circled, filled, and ever so vibrantly coloured my mind; it was so much like flora bursting to life at the first glimpse of the new season of spring. These words danced me to the end of the world and back; they have shown me abundance of beauty and knowledge beyond my comprehension, leaving me no choice but to drink up all that life had to offer me...

And now, these very same words have led me to this end of the road. The journey was almost surreal, and I find myself still unable to completely comprehend the life that I've spent here.

It's been over three years. With that has come what I've known to be some of my highest of highs, and no doubt has seen my most desperate of lows. I could never cease to forget how frustrating it would be to maintain this blog - desperately stringing words and phrases to conjure up something emphatically pedestrian, and then pasting a pathetic sorry by the end of an entry whilst kicking myself for failing to meet my usual standard of creativity. I would almost panic if I'd ever leave myself no time to write an entry - more than two days with no posts certainly would have me nervously scraping at nothing and everything just to satisfy this craving for my words to be posted and to be read.

Consequently, this canvas has certainly not been left plain or untouched. It displays the fullest and most vigorous strokes of the last three years of my life - some of the most intense memoirs which can never be forgotten as they resonate from the block letters on our screens. It is full of contradictions - times of undeniable joy interwoven in moments of utter downheartedness and pain; downcast faces mirrored by ones resonating with momentous hope; hurricanes of confusion and loss, and yet certain peace in a still heart, and a faithful light bringing warmth in the darkest, dampest of hours. It has withstood irrationality, impulse, and intense emotion, and yet, it had not once failed to be my solace.

Yet... The more I think about this, the less I am certain that this canvas which I have for so long toiled over needs anything more. There are very few holes, more or less merely in need of the final touches; bits of refining paint, and that finishing gloss to complete it. And now, when I turn to gaze at this piece, I find myself almost completely satisfied with the result. I'm happy to put down my tools, cease working, and leave this piece to speak for itself.

For once, I'm content with this blog.

Now, I know that I don't need fancy letters or picturesque paragraphs to round this off, but I feel that after so long, nothing else would do this blog justice, heh. It's almost laughable how hard I had tried for this, and how I would somehow always find reason to fail myself from achieving any sort of commitment.

But truly, really, I am happy. I'm happy that I can leave this all behind, and (perhaps finally) grow up. I definitely won't stop writing, and I most certainly won't forget this space, but I feel that it's time for me to leave these last remaining words to ring for themselves.

I hate corny thank-you's, long speeches and emotional dedications. But I can't leave without saying how blessed I am to have you guys (my readers) support me through these three years, and helped made my blog whatever it has become today.

But what can I say? You guys make my life, sort of. :P We all have our ups and downs, but it's all these things: mistakes, regrets, impulses, reactions... all these make us who we are, and if it happened any other way, we wouldn't be who we are today, nor who we are intended to be in the future... you get? Heheh. :)

And I praise God that He gives me a reason to smile when I become blinded by the things that overwhelm me. He's pretty cool like that. (:

Well, that's me, over and out. I hope you all enjoyed the ride with me, and in some way I hope my blog (or even just fragments of it) stays with you as it will with me for the rest of my life. It's been a good one.

Sincerely,

PTL/LOL, Sarah.

The Foolish Heart.

2011-03-26T20:31:00.005+11:00

Meeting you is like finding treasure.

I am trapped in the allure of having finally made a fantastic new discovery: one unseen, one unheard of. And amidst this ecstasy my eyes widen, and I am filled to the brim with utter excitement, and it wants so desperately to escape from under my fastened lid.

But I can't let it escape, I dare not let another being even hear of your existence. You are now far too precious to the ignorant world. They wouldn't appreciate you, they wouldn't love you as immensely as I do...

But what can be helped? Because deep inside, I know someone else already knows all of your secrets, all of your treasures. And my feeble attempts to keep you sheltered from the world, as though you were mine and mine alone, are inept. For though I desperately love you and long for you to be my own, you already belong to nature, and another, and I can't tamper with nature. I certainly know that if I dared to chip you from the foundations on which you stand, your brilliant glow would immediately begin to fade, you would sooner die than survive and be called mine...

And now, all that I have done, my entire journey and my efforts in seeking, finding, and discovering the beautiful creature that you are... It is all futile, for my time and efforts have been sacrificed for something beautiful, and yet it is tragic, for I know so well, and so clearly, that I could never have you.

Honestly, I do. I feel a tinge of self hatred, because you truly can only tolerate me. My being to you seems only to trap you, and to suffocate the vivacity that wells up inside of you. It is by far too much to expect you to notice me as a friend, let alone appreciate me for my reckless behaviour. How can you? I'm selfish, and I want you to all to myself. I want to keep you hidden in the corner of my heart, where no one else would dare enter in. But this is only disastrous for you, for you need your freedom, and you need others far more than you need me.

So I can only watch as your enigma is discovered, and even loved, but certainly never appreciated, by the world, and I only hold onto the fact that I could at least share, even for just a little while, in this wondrous treasure that is you...

LOL, Sarah.

I thought this old quote was worth re-quoting, heh.

"...not all the birds and butterflies will stay on your hands forever... some may fly away and come back, some may never come back. But true companionship and trust stay at the warmth of your hands as long you don't close your hands on them..." - NitNav.

The Trees.

2011-03-11T01:31:00.008+11:00

I have a huge fascination for people. I'm not quite sure why. It's something about meeting people, the spark in their eye, their little hop in each step that they take, the tiny clicks between their fingers when they point here and there. People are just so interesting.

I love people. I love meeting new people (this is especially interesting, because they are only new to me, but they themselves aren't new at all...) . I love to hear their whole life story, everything they've been through, in hopes (and often to no avail, but that's okay) to empathise with them, to understand where they come from. I want to know what it's like to live their lives, to be human in the way that they see it. I am so intrigued by their reactions; why people believe the things they believe, and how they react in such a unique way to any sequence of events. I want to know their thought process, what they think, why they think it, and how their thoughts play out. And how do those thoughts translate into actions?

It is not only that. I love getting to know the sound of their voice, their nervous laugh. I yearn to anticipate the sound of their footsteps, and to recognise the shape of their back, and their posture every time they walk. I want to see the little features across their face; a dimple, a little flinch, and visualise it in my mind everytime my mind crosses towards them. I want to see how their face lights up when they are met with a gentle surprise, and how their eyebrows furrow at the sight, or even mere sound of something foul to their taste.

I find myself with such a deeply profound interest in every aspect of a person's life, that I don't know what to do. I cannot help but long to know them, to understand them, to recognise every single bit of them, and to isolate them out from the 'crowd'.

Whenever I'm on the tram, I like to watch people. Not in the seriously stalkerish way (although the more I think of it, the more I'm convinced I've become a stalker haha), but whenever I pass by a street full of people crossing, I can't help but to glance at each person there, and just wonder about who they are.

Their background. Their experiences. Their knowledge. Their interests. Their hobbies. Their pet-peeves. Their philosophies. Their beliefs. Just... their entire life.

Isn't it amazing to think that each and every single person, young and old, has a whole life that they have lived? How inside the world in which we all live in, there's another totally personal, intimate world that each person can call their own? I don't think you would understand. Not even I do... I just accept that it is beyond my imagination and will never cease to bewilder me whenever I think of it. But it is quite profound, and it is a really humbling experience, just being reminded of how truly small we are in this world, and, although there is one world, somehow there is an endless multitude of worlds within.

Sometimes, I feel like I see not the forest, but the trees. It's just that people are just so interesting, and I am constantly astounded by them.

I love people. I am constantly, and perhaps will forever be, intrigued by them.

It's just that sometimes, I wish I were just so too.

LOL, Sarah.

His Cup Overflows.

2011-02-15T10:17:00.002+11:00

You never cease to amaze me.

Once again, I have no choice but to come before you... only to be softly, lovingly rebuked... I was always meant to come before you. In all this turmoil, this struggle, and this perseverance of faith, I have forgotten that you had always meant for us to rest. I sooner began to try on my own - try to stand on my own two feet. How wrong I am. How do I proclaim that I am faithful to you, that I remember your promises... and forget to dwell in your spirit?

Yet, you, like an eagle swooping down to catch its younglings, lift me up to a place of rest again, where I need not try, I need not make an effort to be what I think you want me to be. You call me to rest, to be restored, so that in your spirit, I can be guided along the path you have chosen for me.

Because I was never meant to walk this world alone - alone with my faith, standing on my own two feet. I was always meant to walk with your hand resting on my hip, and your arm tightly around my waist, and the other hand holding mine tightly, so that I would never forget just who you are, what you mean to me, and truly, what I mean to you too.

PTL, Sarah.

I type "you" the way that I do because you aren't supposed to be unreachable. Yes, I proclaim that you are God. But you are also our father, our best friend, our lover, and you have made it possible for us to be so intimate with you, to feel you, to hear you, to see you. I don't do this out of lack of respect, but in fact, in gratitude and gratefulness, because you love us too much to be a distant God. You wrap me in your arms of love, and you call me yours.

De-Guise.

2011-02-14T00:16:00.004+11:00

I stare and I think, and I think and I stare some more. And yet, it's still all just white space that floods my eyes. There is no slight tremour, no flicker of movement. There is no spectacular spark of beauty, no stroke of vibrance. It is all just plainness, and this time, I fear it is no longer temporary.

My mind has become the body of a manikin, undressed by fancy sentiment, stripped of the trends of eloquence and materialism. I am bare, and I am naked, and now I'm just too afraid and too ashamed to walk on. As it is, I am a mere figure, aren't I? So why can I not feel the tips of your fingers pressing against me as you twist and turn my joints, exercise my limbs and stretch my posture to continue your work? Your work that chisels, chips, and slits deeper into my woody flesh, leaving me fragile, vulnerable, and weak.

... But I quickly forget. I am far too drawn by, and helplessly drowned in, the love pouring from your eyes when my head is tilted your way. The twinkle is right there in your eyes, and I know that what you have in mind for me is far more beautiful than what I could ever dress myself in.

Yet, sometimes, you turn my head away. Sometimes, you don't let me even catch a glimpse of you. I am left, terrified, with only my faith in you to keep me from jumping right out of my skin and deep into another's dresser. I strain to see, but I cannot. My neck is so stiffened for your purposes that all I've left to do is strain to hear that familiar clink, clink, clink! as you chip away at all my rougher edges.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid because sometimes, I can't see you. I can't hear you. I can't feel you. I stare, and there is nothing, and I find that I am left with nothing - nothing but my wavering faith and mere memories of your voice. Your voice that says: I love you, I will never leave you or forsake you, I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

You are the only reason I still stand here, trembling and terrified, completely broken and exposed. Yet I stand unashamed, because I know that only your love can bring me to my knees.

PTL, Sarah.

They'd Say.

2011-01-29T00:39:00.003+11:00

They'd say that I was strong, when I couldn't take anything anymore.
They'd say I was positive, when I could see no good in the world anymore.
They'd say that I was happy,when my heart was breaking.

It's not as if I don't have any problems. But it's not as if I'll ever act like I have no problems. I do. I'm just like every other person in the rest of this world. I suffer, I hurt. Sometimes, no one even knows.

But it's not as if I won't say something. It's because every time I feel that I have to say something for an ounce of relief from heartache, there comes a voice. It's a voice that tells me to stop whining and complaining. It forces me to envision so many other broken people, suffering much harsher circumstances and going through more heartbreaking situations than I could even dream about. People who are on the brink of dying, and yet... still rejoice at seeing another day. And truly, truly no one knows what they go through.

It's these people, and they are real, and I'm weaker than that. They're the ones who should be called strong. They're the ones still seeing positivity in the world. They're the ones who are truly happy with nothing.
And I, a spoiled little girl in one of the luckiest countries in the world, should have nothing to complain about. In fact. My life is so wonderfully fortunate. I have all I need, want, and so much more with the God who would have died for me alone, even if no one else would believe.

So I shall, once again, purse my lips, hold my tongue, and refuse to let another tear escape.

LOL, Sarah.

Clothed.

2011-01-08T16:57:00.005+11:00

Colossians 3:7-14

⁷You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. ⁸ But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. ⁹ Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices ¹⁰ and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. ¹¹ Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.

¹² Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. ¹³ Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. ¹⁴ And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

---

I happen to find that life can be like cleaning out a closet. There always comes a time when we have to empty ourselves, lay everything out on the bed, and assess what we keep, and what needs to go. We have grown now, and we need to purge ourselves of childish desires, letting go of the things we do not need, and instead clothe ourselves with the new, be equipped for what is to come.

Where I once laid my childish ways aside, just in a small corner of my closet, I now set it in a pile on my bed. It is a pile I no longer need, for I have grown; clothes of holding on, stubbornness, self-orientation - I let go. A pile that no longer lingers in my closet, taking up space, weighing me down. These must go, for they are too tight, and I suffocate in its cover.

So too, the clothes that must go are the ones that were never mine: clothes I have attempted to put on to become someone else, clothes that don't fit me so well. They must return to their owners, for the clothes which are mine are mine to be worn, not to be left hanging upon the hooks.

And finally, the clothes that are still stained by human's shortcomings: selfishness splattered over compassion, pride seeping in the seams of obedience, and materialistic desires drenching pure, white, love. These clothes will be surrendered, to be laid at His feet, for Him to wash clean, that I may dress myself anew. The stains of sin are washed away by His blood, so that I may be clothed with the robes of a child of God.

And in so doing, I am no longer a sinner, I am a beautiful, loved daughter of God.

---

With the New Year having come around, there are a number of things I must do. There are loose ends to be tied, knots to be loosened, and other strings to be cut off completely. This blog - this string, is one I am not sure how to deal with. Perhaps it will stay a while longer, or perhaps not. But it is a consideration that I need to be aware of, as are many other decisions which I have to make.

Rest assured though, I will offer a valedictory when the time comes to lay this beast to sleep :P

In the mean time, I must immerse myself all the more into my roots in the Motherland (:

Much love,

PtL, Sarah.

In The Stillness.

2010-12-04T12:42:00.004+11:00

I breathed in the silent air, like a gulp of icy water. It was refreshing - revitalising. To be alone and not lonely, perhaps was the grandest gift to have! Oh what it was to be how I was at this moment... and what I would give to have it again!

Right here, where I am, people do not question what seems to be the matter, and rightly so, because it is not their matter. They do not ask why I look so... unlike joy, unlike the sun beating away the down of the clouds in the sky. Yet again, I address the question with the question. Do they know my expression? Do they know this queer feeling of the upturned corners of my lips, which really are the contracting muscles underneath? Do they know the true meaning of a furrowed brow, a lackluster eye?

I could say yes, but I long to say no, for the secrets of my heart could be spilled to no one. It is my choices that people are unfamiliar with, not necessarily the circumstance upon which I face, and their interpretation of my outward appearance would, I fear, only distort their understanding of my decisions.

I fear losing the privacy of my thoughts. The very faint idea, even if as tiny and as insignificant as an ant, that my wall is in any way corrupted makes me quiver and tremble. For the minute a tiny little thing like that breaks in, my rations will not survive. I will have no control over anything that I have. It will rot away the pristine clarity and purity of these walls which hide what others find so delicious and quenching. They just want it all, and they want to take me as well.

No, the secrets of my heart must remain deeply hidden. Nature understands - it hugs me with its loosened leaves, and brushes my hair with soft, grassy bristles. This may sound strange, but I do feel that nature speaks. Its voice is in the breeze, in the songs of the birds. It whispers into the inner sanctum of my heart: We hear you, we understand your decisions. Who is we? What is that sovereign voice, so faint, yet so lucid and clear, that seems to know the secrets of my heart, and understands who I am, what I am?

And yet, still, it embraces me with such a natural warmth when I am numbed by cold. Cool water laps at my feet, ready for drinking, when I am weary and tired.

But I can't help but to continually feel that there is a cosmos - larger than me... larger than life, even- that knows, and, even more to the point, understands.

What's more, it loves.

And I am so content that the secrets of my heart are known by this grander and more sovereign being. It is the one being I am willing to surrender to - to Someone that knows, and yet still loves - it is an amazing thing.

To this, not to anyone else, am I willing to lose control to.

PTL, Sarah.

Life Is Wonderful.

2010-11-14T22:23:00.002+11:00

If you're the best I've ever met, and I can't have you...

Boy, am I blessed, because the best is still yet to come.

---
LOL, Sarah.

Unfortune.

2010-11-07T22:02:00.004+11:00

It is the last night before Methods Exam 2.
I was determined to complete one exam paper.
So I did (though left the last question due to time constraints).

Then it was time to correct.
I search for the solutions...
Only to discover that I spent two hours doing the wrong exam paper.
Mathematical Methods Exam 2≠ Mathematical Methods (CAS) Exam 2.
Sad.

I want to shoot myself.

LOL, Sarah.

Austere Daydreaming.

2010-11-07T01:00:00.004+11:00

Don't you hate the idea of structured, innovative, new writing?

I think I struggle most with that. If you'd ever gotten the chance to look back and read over your past writings, doesn't it seem rather poxy, what you discover? Say... You've written something along the lines of:

She stared back at him, and breathed, "I'm not afraid".

It's that 'something along the lines of' that bugs me, because everything everyone's ever written is 'something along the lines of' something else already written. And suddenly, what formerly sounded unique and special to you rather becomes conventional, idealistic. No matter what the context, it's the same. Now, there will always be certain words that one must use if they were to write a short piece of fiction; words, or even phrases, like: "he stared in horror" or "my heart dropped" and "He whispered "I..."" you get it. I know you get it.

For lack of ability to then express oneself successfully without already sounding corny or even phony (damn English is getting to me. Just when I thought I could lay that subject in the grave, it comes back to haunt me. And already, how conventional do I sound? Exactly my point.), we then turn to subject matter. Suddenly, everything we've written about has already once been written about. We capture moments, significant, rare, dare I say, magical moments in our lives, and yet, what magic is there if we've already written or read about it a thousand times? What does a feeling really feel like, if we're so accustomed to it having placed our angle of it that way?

But... I do think that it is our flair that makes it innovative, new, fresh, different. Our spin on words, choice on lettering, (American and Australian - don't discriminate (: ), sentence structure. Everything that makes literary writing is at our disposal, and we can use them however we want. Most of the time, it's just easier to work with something previously done - the way I've adopted a liking for Mansfield's style, and thus have incorporated some of her writing flair into my writing (obviously not this one, but you know what I mean - the stories!), but at the thought of being innovative, being new, being fresh, and being different... I mean, isn't it alluring?

I don't know. I sometimes think that when I write, I'm the least my own... yet still, it is only me who really understands it all. We're used to writing universally, because not one person has experienced and responded to each and every circumstance, for example, as I have throughout my entire life.

I do realise this blog feels much like a waste of your time, and I do apologise for that, but I can't help it; I like to ponder. Thoughts like this, to me, are often more vibrant than the colourful language spouted out by talented writers. I don't proclaim that I do have talent here (on the contrary, one can see I clearly don't from my plain and bland use of english here), but sometimes it's just why I write about simple things that pull at the corners of my lips. The things that work themselves out, which required none of our doing... now isn't that magical?

LOL, Sarah.

Still Alive.

2010-11-05T17:47:00.005+11:00

Ames, I don't mean to copy you (though it seems that I cannot help it, genius idea) but I have ready-made two dedications so far. I'm not sure whether I will fulfill the whole 30-letters-to-30-people...
thing. But here's one, and another for another blog, because I don't want to be greedy and steal all your time! Pls enjoy.

I don't know why this image was titled 'Alone'... but ohwell.
---
I remember back to a time where I once shared my devotion time in the mornings. I remember us talking about trees, and their roots, and how often-times, we are likened to these very plants. He said, and I remember so distinctly, that he imagined his state to be a young tree who was setting his foundation in the church, whose roots were beginning to firmly grasp and hold the soil in God's house...
And I remember my response, where I, on the verge of tears, said that I was struggling to break out of my seed, push through the dirt and find my way out into the light. You said it was possibly one of the hardest steps to take.

I would have to agree. At the time, though I faced the adversity that he spoke of, I could not take comfort in his words. But, having that become my past, I understand his testament. I feel that I have grown, and where he stood, I now do. It is possibly that hardest to combine our first passion with holding true to our commitment.

I think it's our initial steps when we are most wobbly - yet is is just that achievement that is the most significant in walking along God's path.

And I thank God that I have that person in my life, and that through his guidance and support, and his reflection of Love, Grace, Mercy, and Kindness from God to me, I can now continue to grow stronger and hold more firmly onto God, and flourish in His house.

PTL.

---
And back to creativity.

---
The way that crowd would roar loudly, how it would sneer in my ears. It was the very same sound that could come from a collision of metal that would grind, crumple, grate and smash at each other - like a tragic crash on the roads. They screech, yell, and bellow, and mock me. Suddenly my vision is blurred - there is not one individual that I can see; not even a single face that I can recognise; instead, I see all but a huge wave, enveloping the space around me with their ringing voices.

And it is these howls that seem to echo within the binds of my heart like a clanging bell - an ever present reminder of hollowness. It is there no matter how I fill it with noise, because, even among the loudest of clamours comes a faint reverberation of helplessness, of the inevitable stillness that I must, alone, face.

But I am still not game enough to face it. And that is why I hide myself under these noises, for they are to me like almost silence - the rain drumming on the roof; white noise that eclipses the silence that I fear.

I would much rather face being lonely alone, than in a full room with no one to face it with.

LOL, Sarah.

Spontaneous Nonpareil.

2010-10-12T00:24:00.003+11:00

I haven't disappeared just yet (:

---
There seems to me to be something a little strange...

As usual, after being dropped off at school, I take my daily hike up the hilly surfaces that my school has been miraculously built upon. As I walked, I listened, and all that I could hear was the unrehearsed songs of the birds, with voices of different tweeters and chirrups. Their voices sang so perfectly into my ear, like a perfectly unique little melody, a high trill intertwined with soft, murmured coos, percussioned with the tremour and rustle of leaves. It's as if the wind held the stave of these little voices; and each note is a fresh intake of beauty and a new sound.
It is truly unique.

And I cannot help but to think of our music. We crave structure to our music. Birds' song may delight us, but it is so beyond our grasp; so beyond our boundaries conjured by theories that melodies must take a few steps, then a few leaps, but not all over the place; that harmonies must have either 3rd or 5th higher pitch, give or take a few veriations such as a sustained 4th from time to time. Each instrument must perfectly be in tune- there is no in-between note between B and C. "Accidentals" are truly accidentals.

It is not that the music that we make is horrible. I truly love music; our deepest inspirations, our most heartfelt emotions, and our innermost desires are teamed together with various sounds placed so exhaustively and structurally detailed upon our black-and-white stave. We almost slave ourselves, and the result is a piece of music, a piece of our attempt at perfection.

Still, my mind wonders back to the song of the birds. They need not harmonise. They need not follow the rules. They know not perfection.
For they sing, because that's what they do.
And its perfect.

... And it's so beautifully moving that it could bring tears to my eyes.

It is how God's creation moves me. Beyond music. Beyond words.
Is God.

PTL, Sarah.

Exhilarating Resplendency.

2010-09-25T00:46:00.006+10:00

I lie awake; restless. Though my lids close, my eyes dash about, eager for even a glimpse of light through their twitching slits. I furrow my brow, and squeeze my sight shut. My entire body responds in tension: hands ball, and toes curl. I begin to shudder.

But peace comes suddenly; I release. Every muscle relaxes, and I have been shifted.
Refreshing. I inhale, drinking in and savouring the night air. It is sharp and crisp, and yet, more like swallowing a mouthful of ice-cold water on a warm summer's evening. The air wafts through my lungs, chilly and wintry; still, my heart remains ever warm - it even overflows - and ever so sweetly floods through my veins.

My fists alleviate. Lush, dewy grass softly caresses at my palms, brushing tenderly through my loosening fingers. It is a cool, and yet somehow, a pleasant touch, not unlike a mild drizzle that leaves one with treasures of fragile diamonds in their cupped hands.

Gently, my eyes unfold - and then, brilliance.
A deep blue-black blanket glimmering with speckles of white dawns on my vision. A crescent moon smiling down, and I - or we - lying down, simply admiring.

And all of a sudden, it is so much more like gazing into the eyes of a significant other.

I would like to share this with you. You don't have to be important to me... For I only long for such beauty to flow throughout my veins, and send chills running down every nerve in my body. To breathe in the fresh, crisp breeze of a chilly evening, and to feel the soft undergrowth tickle at my limbs...To experience a wonderous night as this, even with one whom I know not well at all...
It is truly a special moment, truly, and a moment to simply savour.

And even if it just for this time that I spend feeling like this, even but for a mere moment, that is all I ask. That is all I will need.

LOL, Sarah.

Fluffy.

2010-09-11T22:47:00.004+10:00

I reaaaalllly want to watch Despicable Me!

Look at this!!: Agnes!

SOOO CUTE!!!

That's all I really wanted to say (:

LOL, Sarah.

In The Valley.

2010-09-07T22:06:00.005+10:00

It is much like this; like flowers in a valley.

---
At the mouth of a valley, you know what you are about to face. Deep, dark secrets linger about the musty air, whispering quietly, harshly, against the damp, mossy walls. Just one step in, and the wind arouses- it is excited. A small breeze isn't a breeze at all- you are suddenly cold, and your entire body is on edge. That presence that so comfortingly followed you before, now feels almost absent, and you are left almost utterly alone. The sun that urged you on so warmly, so encouragingly, and so surely, has escaped from the eve of the valley, it is swept away with the wind. There is nothing that would bid you onwards, unless you knew, and absolutely trusted that beyond every valley, a hill resides, and will return you to the crisp air, and the warm embrace of the sun once again.

And you do know this. So onwards, you walk, into the damp, into the unknown. The path is rocky - if it was to say that there is any path at all. Stray roots from under deadened trees seem to want to strangle your footing, and often you stumble, but you do not fall, for you are still strong from the sun's provision. But the darkness drifts towards you, slowly, inevitably, and ebbs away at any remaining light that you so depend on. You squint your eyes. Soon enough, they'll adjust, mind you. They were made cunningly for such moments as this. Your hands are stretched as far as arm's length will allow, and you feel your way through, for as surely as the darkness has settled, your vision has faded. You waver around. Nothing is familiar. You grope, and shuffle about... the wind is like the cold belly of a snake slithering along your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. You slow down, and stop. You know you cannot turn back. But what can you do when you cannot see beyond this lingering darkness? But your vision is adjusting, slowly, surely, and soon, you see something.

Ahead, a single flower resides. It seems to be illuminated by a tiny stream of light, and though it is clouded and murky from the polluted air that you must breathe, the blossom gleams like stars against the night sky as it stems from a black pit within the crevasse of the valley. It shines. And it reminds you once again, of that hill- that beautiful hill, sprouting in abundance with flora, and streams that run alongside green grass where you may be laid to rest, under the shade of a flourishing tree bearing bright, ripened fruit. That hill is abundance - and it is where you are going once you conquer the dangers, the fears, and the insecurities hidden deep in the heart of the valley.

And so, you can take another step. But be careful! For you must not take the flower with you. The flower cannot sustain you, for as soon as you uproot it from its habitat, surely, it will wither, and die. You perhaps should leave it there, and simply be reminded of the abundance of which the flower originated from. How can something so alive, so full of joy and prosperity, live in such a deathly valley? Surely, if this flower has been conditioned to bear the harshest that this valley has to offer, and yet is still cared for, and brims with such warmth and goodness, surely, you are cared for just as well, if not more, and can journey safely, soundly into the depths of the dark.

Memories of that flower- no, of your destination: that hill - must linger in your mind, but as you wade through the darkness, darkness eats away at all seeming joy. It seems to feed on you - as you resonate with joy, darkness growls, and and magnifies. If you had carried that flower with you, and had drawn your strength from its warmth, surely it has failed you now. Its life has waned, for it is no longer sustained, and can no longer sustain you. You can no longer hope in it, for what precious life it had, nestled within the crevasses and cracks of the valley, you have stolen from.

A feeble flower. You cannot rely on it. But bear in mind the reminders it holds: its life is so sufficiently provided for in the darkest of dark. It is a signature of blessing; a reminder of the place you journeyed from, and venture towards once again. And, just as the little thing gleamed in a tiny shed of light, surely, the sun has not faded. The valley may impair your vision, but it cannot destroy the sun it so desperately tries to hide from you.

And so you continue. But the darkness grows ever darker, and your vision wanes, and your strength fails, and you begin to lose heart. Don't lose heart! Look left! Look right! Find those flowers that are sprouting up among the darkness! Though they do not sustain you, they remind you that this valley cannot destroy even the most delicate of beings, and it will most unequivocally not be able to conjure up the strength to destroy you, for, though the sun may fade, and warmth may be deficit, though your body fails, and provisions are scarce, the one who calls you is faithful, and He will carry you through.

These blossoms; though there are not many, they are sufficient. They are like lamps that guide your path. Even in your darkest hour, a little lamp will shine through, not beyond your vision, and it will light your way.

The valley can no longer overcome you. It never could, for though the darkness seeps in, and steals away our warmth, it is not warmth that we rely on. And these flowers, though their warmth is temporary, and we cannot journey onwards with them in our grasp, they instill in us the hope that we have that cannot be taken away, for surely we will be delivered, just as these flowers spring from the darkest, murkiest habitats known to man, and we will reach the promised land, flowing with milk and honey. Land of abundance.

---
Indeed, it is so much like this. Our blessings, like flowers in our deepest turmoils. And though God's presence may seem distant, we do not lose heart, for as surely as the sun rises, He is faithful to us, and He will never leave us or forsake us.

And though we are blessed, we do not place our hope in these blessings, but on the one who provides them. For where God is, there life is also, like flowers...
Even in the deepest valleys.

PTL, Sarah.

At The Park.

2010-09-03T22:42:00.003+10:00

It was such a lovely day to be out in the sun. Finally! After such a long, cold and dreary winter, Vera could see the shy sun peek out from behind the clouds, to sweep her into his warm embrace once again. She let the sun stroke her bare shoulders, and whisper softly, sweetly, into her ear, “winter has passed”. As Vera breathed in the fresh breeze, her chest elated. She wanted to sing! And how the birds near her had started to sing, too! Their voices danced along with the warm breeze; the wind like a fresh whiff of perfume that flooded one’s insides with absolute joy and euphoria. The birds twittered and hummed; she felt right at home, as if she were sitting in front of her piano, her glove-adorned hands splayed out to play along with their cheerful tune. Vera really did feel something inside her bosom move – like a song longing to overflow from within. “I shall hum along with the beautiful creatures as they sing to my piano,” she declared gleefully, as she swept her hands across her lap to the right, and fluttered her fingertips at the end, just as the birds let out a pretty trill with their flutey voices.

---

Today was the perfect day to spend in the park. She had walked by the park many times –but quite hurriedly, so she would not have to spend a further minute out in the daunting cold of winter. So little happened during those few moments, where she would glance at the barren land – only ever was there one or two little creatures brave enough to venture out into the frosty terrain... It was far too cold for Vera, and too mysterious in the almost deserted unknowns of the park. However, Vera felt adventurous today, with the warmth of the sun assuring her of his supervision and comfort. And so, she had ventured into the park, eager to discover whatever that splendid morning had in mind for her…

And then she saw him, sitting on a nearby bench, peeling an orange in that strange way that she would never forget. Vera almost laughed aloud at the sight! She could succinctly remember how he would claw at the fruit, his sharp nails quickly splintering into the skin to create some sort of decorated swirl. The orange was his canvas – he would doodle all over it, skilfully and precisely dissecting the firm outer layer and scooping out the zest and fibre to reveal the tender, unspoilt fruit within. Vera had told him off the last time, to put away such radical behaviour and just to peel the poor orange as everyone else did. But his wily face would stare back into her, with that all too familiar and all too broad grin. Vera could distinctly hear his words dance around her ears as he positively shouted, “I’m my own artist!” the ladies and gentlemen in the café around them softened their murmur to silent reproach. How he would just smile right back, and how mortified she had felt... Vera heaved a sigh. Then, as if he’d heard her, he whirled around to face her, his light face flickered so quickly into eagerness, just like a spark bursting into tongues of flame.

“Oh my, Vera!” he exclaimed, and leapt right up to greet her, taking her hand in his, “I surely didn’t expect to see you here! Having a lovely stroll in the park? Out enjoying the sun?”

“Ah, yes, the latter”, she replied, and he grinned back at her. “Would you like something to eat? An orange, maybe?” Vera declined politely, but as she tried to withdraw her hand, he clasped onto it with both of his. At that moment, a strange beast inside of her began to move. “Won’t you come and sit? Come, just for a little while!” He led her back to the bench, and she sat down alongside him – but his hands remained firmly clasped onto hers. Vera felt like her hand was hovering low over a small fire – intensely warm, but it did not burn her. Instead, its warmth seeped in through her glove, and flooded throughout her body. She felt like she had been out in the sun for a minute too long, though she had only been out for a little while.

“You see, you came at a very convenient time. I was just looking at these bright yellow bunches, just there. Can you see? They reminded me of you, and of that time when we wandered about Kew Gardens. You named for me every single flower there was… and yet, I still cannot recall this one! You know that I am quite hopeless at remembering things. See here, how I have even carved it into the skin of this fine produce…” Vera glanced towards a colourful bush just ahead them, where his inspiration lay. She leaned in a little towards the little flowers with a warm smile, and they all reached out, wanting to hold her, beaming back at her ever so brightly.

“Verbenas,” she breathed, and turned back towards him. “Mother used to have them in her garden, in a hanging basket, and whenever we went to water them, she would tell me that I was like her Verbena, beaming at her like sunshine…” Vera’s voice faded as she remembered the warmth of her mother’s embrace, and how she would never feel it again… She shivered slightly, but he did not notice. ”Oh, the tenderness of this fruit is magnificent!” He took a generous whiff from the deepest cut of the wounded fruit. “Vera, you really should try some. Its aroma is just wonderful.” He turned her hand ever so gently in his, and placed the orange in her palm. Vera felt a grimace from inside her chest creep towards the corners of her lips, but she pursed them quickly enough for him to not notice.

“No, no… it’s okay. I really do not want this.” She was almost pleading. Would he understand what she had meant?

“Ah right…” He said, taking back the orange, and letting her hand go. His eyes wandered from hers. “Oh! Look, Vera!” he said softly, but she could hear that restrained eagerness bursting from his lips. “The children!” Vera inhaled sharply, and the beast inside her began to whimper silently, but she followed his gaze towards the playground. Suddenly, a wave of jovial children, just as adventurous as she had been, swooped in towards the playground – two in particular, a sandy-coloured haired girl, and a boy whose head of curls were boundless and untamed, scampered across the dewy grass, directly towards the monkey bars.

“Don’t worry, we’re big enough now!” Vera heard a high-pitched voice sing out towards the girl. “But I’ve never been on them before!” A higher, prettier voice sang back, and Vera could almost hear a tremble of fear from within the little voice. “Don’t be a chicken, Lottie!” the boy shouted back, and so the little girl reached for the pole.

Vera watched the girl in silence, and suddenly warmth grasped at her hand once again. The strange beast inside her chest rumbled. Lottie swung once, twice… and the little tyke successfully grabbed a hold of the next bar. What an achievement! Vera felt something inside her leap in joy and relief. But as Lottie let go of the first bar to grab a hold of the next, she lost her grip, and fell onto the ground.

“Ow…” Lottie began to sob, and Vera felt a faint chill across the skin of her neck. Wasn’t it a little colder now than before? She was sure of it. She trembled slightly, but she did not move towards the crying girl.

“Oh Lottie! You weren’t meant to fall!” The little boy dashed towards Lottie’s side, and pulled out a bandaid. He dabbed at the graze on Lottie’s knee with a tissue from his pocket, and quickly covered the scratch with the bandaid. “See? All better now! Now c’mon, let’s go!” He grabbed her arm and helped Lottie back up, and they dashed away.

Vera could not get that image out of her sight. How quickly Lottie had moved on! Yet, she was sure that she heard Lottie stifle a sniff, and saw her wipe the tears from her face before running after the boy. How hard it was for her to keep up…

“Verbenas in your garden – indeed! They really are lovely little things!” Vera heard his voice break her from her trance, and his warmth left her hand. He had knelt by the flowers beneath their feet. “Your mother was right, you know. I do believe that you are much like these delightful blossoms. In any season, you resonate with such warmth and energy...” His calm face broke into a slight smile, and the strange beast began to pound at her heart. Vera gathered her hands at her bosom, and pressed hard against it.

“Yes… you must be the only one in the world of whom I know nothing can take away that fire inside of you.” He snapped off a cluster of verbena from the bush and twirled it between his fingers. Vera stood up.

“You’re going already? But you must stay a little while longer!” He held tightly both the bunch of flowers and the carved orange in his hands, and Vera pressed even harder at the strange beast’s beating at her heart. The orange’s juice began to drip from its incisions.

“I really must go. I’m sorry,” she gave him a smile that did not hold. At that moment, she was even sorry that she had entered the park at all…

“Surely I will see you again soon?” His voice sang of such hope, and yet, such dreamy vagueness. Vera could no longer stand it. “Perhaps… but perhaps not.”

---

The sun had drawn back behind the safety of the clouds, and the winds picked up, silencing all the flora and fauna from singing any more. Still, he did not hear her last words. He placed the bleeding orange on the bench, and he hovered his dripping hand over the bushy flora, where he had removed the cluster of verbena. He loosened his suffocating grip on the isolated plant; its vibrancy had already begun to fade.

---

Finally, the story I was talking about. I got an A+! YAY! My teachers loved it (: But.. I think they liked the reflective commentary more.. bummer x]

And thus begins the final sprint. A close other has my password for Facebook, and I vow to be absent from MSN for the coming days, until my focus can turn away from study. I dedicate this to You, God, for I know in You, I have the strength to carry on. Continue to shed Your light upon my path; may I see You in everything around me, and when everything overwhelms, I know that You are God.

Blogspot will be my hangout space (:

PTL, Sarah.

In Heaven's Wake.

2010-08-28T00:01:00.002+10:00

The more I think about it, the more selfish it is.

Isn't life... so much more? So much more than materialistic and monetary value? Much more than gain?
Isn't life so much more than me? And yet, we are so wrapped up in ourselves that we have no time for others.
We label them; student, worker, businessman, police woman. But who are they? Does no one know? Can anyone identify an individual? Does anyone know someone's life story, besides their own?
We can't. We simply cannot, even for the hope of the world.

Life is more than superficiality, gain, riches. Everyone knows it. But for those without hope, who else can they turn to?

---
I've written a story, but I will not have a direct post of it. I have provided a link to it; click here if you wish to read. By no means do I abuse such a time as this... And with everything I have, I mean it in the deepest of respects.

But I just wanted to say.. sorry. For I'm so caught up in my own skin, that I have no time to mourn for you. But I earnestly pray that you are lifted up to a place of rest, and a place where it is okay for you to cry. For He comforts. And He loves.

But I am torn. For it is especially times like these where I want to jump out of my own skin; to escape it, and forget about my own selfish and insignificant desires. I want to cry with them... And yet, I feel that myself has once again drawn centre focus. And it is a wretched feeling. My spirit is perturbed... But life, far greater, far beyond comprehension, and all I can think of is myself?
Selfish. And as silly as ever.

But even in my deepest regret of narcissism, my condolences go out to you. As hopeless, as selfish, and as greedy as I am, with little goodness that is in my heart, I give you Love. If not mine, His. For I know that He sees your strength, and how you stand. He knows the innermost depths of your heart. And just as He fell from the skies, so too, along with you, in all your inequities and pain, He is lifted on high in glory.

Hosanna,
Amen.

---
I do not seek approval, I do not seek attention.

RIP, for you wake up in heaven.

Sarah.

Alluring Reminisce.

2010-08-24T22:19:00.005+10:00

Hello. (:

Be eagerly anticipatory of my story, of which I will post soon.... No, I'll be generous. Make that two stories, because I am guilt-ridden for my unexplained near-one-month absence.
There is no excuse, but there are reasons which I can only give with a slight grimace, but I'll smile it out.

Year 12.
It really is the most overwhelming breath of reality I have experienced so far.

Pray for me, please? I cannot go on without Him.

It is a mediocre post today. Significant to one. That one is perhaps only me, though there are two addressed here. I do not mean for it to be sad, for I am only filled with love for my past, which has weathered me away to who I am today. I hope you enjoy the style, if nothing else.

---
"To: Doofus
From: Awesome"

I closed my eyes, and imagined. Well - I tried to imagine anyway. There is only so much I can work with. All I have left are tiny fragments, but I feel that I have been robbed of all the adjoining pieces, left only with tattered, confusing pieces that I just do not understand. You know, I probably did understand once... it feels like a lifetime ago now. But now, I just can't connect anything together. I can remember nothing.

And yet there is this empty feeling. It's as if I should have something there - almost as if you should be there, but that is just silly, because you're not. Nevertheless, this is it: the feel is like a room, windswept, papers scattered everywhere, but everything is deafeningly silent and dangerously still. With it, the wind stole my memories of you.

But I have dug up some sort of creature - it's not real of course, only a stuffed animal. It sees with no eyes, has a large tummy with no food. It is strangely reminiscent of my birthday. Yes. I think you gave that to me as a present. Praise the heavens that I remember something, I suppose. Oh- and with it came a card from you. Of course; how could I forget? Our mutual yet pointless obsession of a colour; it adorned the otherwise naked envelope... its contents really were naked too. I definitely believe this is true, even now: that I heard you laugh when I opened it.

But I can't seem to remember that strange sound, that laugh of yours, despite the acoustics of this room I'm in. I should be hearing something - I'm straining to hear something. But nothing is there. Even the faint echo of your voice is nowhere to be found.

And what are these figments of my imagination? They are bountiful and boundless. I've looked at so many; and they are all so incomplete... and yet, my mind is completely covered. They portray a face- or rather, various facets that, if correctly placed, may perhaps reveal the slight resemblance of a face. Essentially, they all make up one thing, but I cannot grasp the product of all these fallen fragments of information. They are useless to me... but they aren't meant to. They are here for a reason... but for what? It is a question I am unable to answer.

Nonetheless. They must be here for a purpose. You, after all, were in my life for a purpose. And memories of you, as disintegrated they may seem, and as emptied as I am of them, there are pieces- very small, very insignificant pieces, that remind me of that something in you that even a fool is smart enough to treasure.

So, I bid you fare-thee-well, and I leave you on good-graces. May whatever these segments of what seem to only point to you stay or go as they please - perhaps carried away - or otherwise, left in this room as that one reminder that you were once significant in my life.

Take care, and I wish you love from here, to wherever you are now.

LOL, Sarah.

Invigorating Incense.

2010-07-27T00:23:00.011+10:00

You've Got The Love - Florence + The Machine

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on You
Sometimes I feel like saying:
"Lord I just don't care,"
But You've got the love I need to see me through

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then it seems that life is just too much
But you've got the love I need to see me through

When food is gone you are my daily meal
When friends are gone I know my Saviour's love is real
Your love is real

You've got the love

Time after time I think "Oh Lord what's the use?"
Time after time I think it's just no good
Sooner or later in life, the things you love you loose
But you got the love I need to see me through

You got the love

---
Sharing music ♥!

LOL, Sarah.

Alleviated Assent.

2010-07-25T23:39:00.004+10:00

It's little things that I remember, and thus it's also the little things that hurt.

To remember the thinly veiled insults exchanged behind eloquent words and fine phrases; the passionate singing along to such sweet music from the top of our lungs; the witty, and sometimes sarcastic jokes shared and understood only by us; how we dared not embrace, and yet somehow I feel that we knew just how much we meant to each other...

I remember your laugh, and vaguely, yet quite distinctly, the sound of your voice as you sung for me for the first time ever in front of an audience of two; at least you still have one of that audience, huh? And I'm glad it's one of the people I trust most, because I know that you're still in good hands.

And so we tackled the first hurdle, head first... we both got hurt, I suppose, but we recovered quickly and ran side-by-side for a while longer... or for as long as one of us could last. But I just couldn't keep up with you over the next hurdle; I was knocked down, and you just had to leave me behind, because I slowed you down enough already.

It was an awkward goodbye... surely I'd see you down the track, but we had our own journeys now. Our paths ended then and there on that one hurdle that tripped me over, and I just could not run with you any longer.

But I'm thankful that you didn't slow down, and that you didn't try to ease the pain that I'd consequently felt from this. I'm thankful that we grew apart. Because now you really can move on, with no hindrances, with nothing that holds you back. You're running the race, and you can run it with all your might now, and with complete concentration. Your next hurdles may be higher, but you've got no one pulling you down when you attempt to jump over it.

As for me, I'm so much stronger that I've ever been. The pain singed at me for a while, a long while, I'll admit, but because I wasn't strong enough. But now I'm just thankful that you were there to run that race with me. And when the road got thinner, and the path got steeper, I can only conclude that this was the best decision we've made. The race that you're running just isn't mine to run, and neither is my race yours.

I'm a little sad, but my heart abounds in joy and in peace - because I know that you're making your ways well. I too, am doing so, and if you wanted to know, I'm doing great. I really am. I've learnt a lot from you, and I just wanted to say how great it was to have you as one of my best friends, even if it was only for a little while.

Thank you, friend. You've meant so much to me. Maybe you can't look at me the same, but I still hold you up with great respect and affection for you. I only wish for you the best from now on.

Lots Of Love,
Sarah.

Avant - Garde.

2010-07-22T22:32:00.014+10:00

And so this is a very Merry Happy Birthday of exactly 2 years of my baby blog's existence.

So I thus present thee, of whom perhaps may be a many or a little, a long blog (:

*To be read whilst Everthing Is Beautiful - Starfield plays softly, but distinctly, in the background. (:

Today is a new day. Today is a good day. Why shouldn't it be? God has us physically, spiritually and mentally rested, preparing us for new places, new objects, new trials. Today must be good, for He made it, and He makes all things good, working everything together for the good of those who love Him.

Today is not the quarrel yesterday at recess, nor the hurt that followed during the day, nor was it last night's depression. Today, you have been healed. Or, if hurt still, you are undergoing a great recovery. Today is not yesterday's rushed morning, stressful afternoon and exhausted evening. We start anew today. We start having had enough rest. We start with the wakening of the senses to the chilly smell of a winter morning, the clinging of warmth from our blanket as we grasp it gingerly in our fingers. Inside, we have been massaged, relaxed, restored and renewed.

So, if God has done this inside our midst, on us- our souls and within our hearts, in our spirit and in our strength, should we not then be life? And by this, I mean truly alive, alight with brightness and eagerness for the events of today? For we are being renewed every day. Should we revert to old ways if we have been restored? Should we start old if we begin new?

We have been redeemed from yesterday's hold - yesterday's tantrums, hurts, and tribulations cannot cling onto what is today. They are old, and they dare not touch a new thing. When we wake, we do not have to think about old trauma, for it no longer binds us to its situation.

It is a new day! and a good day! We have been prepared for it- restored for it, renewed for it, and redeemed for it. Is this not something that delights our hearts? Do we not believe that our God does all this, and more? Nuggets of blessing throughout the day, fresh laughs, earnest smiles, sincere joy. New hardships to make us pray, reflect, and pray for change, so that in another new day, we are renewed again - and not with old strength, but instead we a moved from His strength to His next strength, where His strength is made perfect in our utmost weaknesses.

Is this not good news? Is there no reason to praise? It's a new day, a new dawn, a new life - for me, for you. And shall we not, then, feel good?

Of course, this is the day that the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it, for the Lord has made us in His own image, and He knows that His creation is good. He is glad in us, for He can live in us - and restore, renew and redeem us.

Praise God, who makes all things new - we are new creations! The old has gone! The New has begun!

- Taken directly from my devotionals journal from 22.07.2010
---
It is at these glowing moments where I feel so incredulously joyful.

It's as if I've walked out of my door to find the curtains drawn, and only the sun beams down on me, with the clouds even daring to recede. I close my eyes, and I enjoy the sunshine as he embraces me, stroking my cheeks with his rays of light, and warmly clasping at my hands as he eagerly fills the spaces between my fingers with his own in earnest affection and ardor.

And he leads me towards the front step of the porch; from there, a stone path invites me to step into the new season. Each stone is frilled with little bristles of dewy morning grass, each droplet on each leaflet bouncing bent light onto the stone - so much so that it burst with colour - surely even the stones were proclaiming the promise of this day!

I feel there is spring in my step, and daisies twirl from the traces of my footprints, and butterflies circle from beneath my feet. It's as if they are lifting me off the ground, and I begin to soar as I leap from stone to stone. The butterflies at my feet beat away at the mist so as to reveal the stones, joyfully glistening its true colours in the sun. I kneel on a particularly large stone, and suddenly, I hear music.

The birds, out of nowhere, perch onto a naked branch with but one budding leaf, chirping gleefully as if they all had a reason to sing. Their voices carry me along, dancing around the sun's rays, and encompassing me with impromtu rhythm and rhyme, and smiling as their melodies flow through my ears, and enter every corner of my heart, and I cannot help but to sing along with all that sings around me.

So, from my lips escape a chilly, yet refreshing kiss of wind, and out comes unrehearsed: a harmony that all but exemplifies the great twitter of the birds, the buzzing of excitement and expectation from the wings of a tiny bee as it hopes and expects to find great provisions even from a tiny budding flower, and the lullaby of the sun as it cradles me in its arms, uninterrupted by the soft coos of the winds that playfully tug at my hair.

And how my heart overflows with love and gratitude! How I am blessed to be embraced by the sun itself! And how my surroundings resonate with such beauty, and that I, little I, am able to sing along with the flora and fauna, and together celebrate a brand new opening of a new day.

---
And I really do feel that spring begins in my very next step. I have felt no joy greater than now - I in so much awe that my thinking is even childlike...

I cannot help myself. I must smile all the time. I must smile at every small thing, and I must capture life in its fleeting moments, for I know that everything - every infinitesimal thing - conveys beauty, and captures the essence of a Saviour whose faith is complete.

And I step into a new season, leaving the frosty bites of winter alone. I am embraced by warmth now, and I have everything to be thankful for.

---
And finally, it shall be that until one year from now, I have no intention of committing to any relationship closer than best friendship other than that between my God and I.

PTL, Sarah.
*This is entirely optional, but listen to the song anyway (:

Beautiful Promise.

2010-07-21T00:00:00.007+10:00

There's so much we can do with words. We could dress up a naked word, and adorn it with decorations of imagery and twists of metaphors and analogies to appeal to every one of our senses. Our line of thought can be adjusted by what we read, we are positioned to like, hate, or be neutral about a subject. We can enhance, or take away from a subject of beauty, and we can create worlds, images, and dreams far beyond one's own imagination.

We can confuse, and we can confront.
We can entertain, and we can stir sympathy.

But we can't change hearts.

There's so much that we can say about our troubles, tribulations, and trials. There's so much complaining we could do, so much whinging and whining behaviour that can add to the surmounting pressure and stress that they provide with. We can go on forever, lamenting on our troubles, and always be depleted of any glimmer of hope, not even a rainbow of promise could lift our spirit.

We can compromise, and we can despair.
We can lament, and we can be blinded.

But we can see God.

But the one thing that is simple, the one thing that needs no words, is that God is greater. And God's glory will be revealed in us.

All it is really, is God. Not how cunning we are, how skillfully we play with our words, nor how moving we can be. Nor is it how hopeless we are, how punished we feel, and how deeply in a hole of depression we have fallen into.

It's about God. God makes things, and makes things beautiful by His mere word. It is His light, which He made, that streams down to give us hope in Him again. He put that rainbow in the sky; a promise given to us, to remind us that He is God. He is above all things. He is above the storm. His mere words silenced the storm, and He silences our storms, with a promise: that He is faithful, and He will do it. He will change our hearts.

This is flat.
This has no dressing of any kind.
This is God's work.
And these are God's words:

That He really is God, and that He is God above all things.

I really cannot say any more.

PTL, Sarah.

Effortless Extravagance.

2010-07-18T03:00:00.009+10:00

The Greatness of our God - Hillsong

Please listen to at least 5 seconds (up to 26 if you will) of this song, because the first five seconds of this song unlocked from within me such an outpour of awe... As you can see here what follows this sentence... (:

---
It's just as if a butterfly flutters across the keys, gently hopping from one note to the other- it would do so with such delicacy and precision. Its mere touch was barely anything, but somehow more than enough, for just as it lands, it takes off again. The butterfly, so elegantly poised, rises from its first residence, still ringing of cherished beauty, towards its neighbouring residence for another ounce of resounded prettiness to be left there too.

Then, it waits.

First, with a single - quick, but unrushed- stretch of its wings, outwards first to ever so humbly reveal the stunning beauty adorned upon the unknowing butterfly's wings; and then restored to their former, closed position, as if the little darling knew to be modest- that You could only ever catch a glimpse of beauty, but you could not nor should ever bathe in its splendour for too long...

And then again, it nimbly leaps into the air, enjoying the stretch of its arched wings, as well as the freedom in which it could move, all the while leaving a trill of inspired awe in its wake as it fluttered away, perfect and pure.

How 'free' every movement of this butterfly seemed! And yet, it was so precise- it seemed to be made to exact beauty in all its splendour and glory- and yet there is that ever present modesty and humble stature that resides from within, because it just knows this: that it is not beautiful because the lovely being wanted to be, but instead because its loving Creator wanted it to be.

So as this meek, little butterfly flutters so daintily away, we are left with so much more than its extravagance, its pleasant beauty and the ring of pleasant music that follows it, but so much more of the wonder of its creator, who made it so perfectly, so that it illuminates His spirit of excellence in its entirety, even in what it leaves behind.

*PTL, Sarah.

*Praise The Lord; and also a substitute for a while, as long as my blogs remain, to me, glorifying to God.

Harmonious Hustling.

2010-07-16T00:07:00.003+10:00

"Don't look outside of the boat!" Your voice was raised so high, trying to gather my full attention. The rapids were moving ever faster now, and I could barely see any hope of our survival.

Waters splashed heavily into the boat, and drenched me entirely. Rocks seemed to spit out from the hungry rapids, and it was as if the rapids were taunting us; the rocks were bones from its last victim, and we would be their next. The ferocious waves snarled and snapped at us from the exterior of the boat, and drooled all over us with its rushing water as it pounded into the sides of the boat. I shook violently in fear and anxiety... How could we make it? How could we make this, when so many other people have died trying?

I lent towards the end of the boat, and all I could see were these majestic waves smashing against rocks of every size, each with significantly sharp, jagged edges. The moment I looked over the side, the boat too, was thrown aside into the point of a particularly jagged rock, and bits of wood from the boat was shattered into pieces; the bits flew everywhere, partly cutting me, and partly cutting you also.

"Stop moving!" you said, but I was flailing hopelessly at the tremendous odds against us in surviving these rapids. You were steering the boat, I know, but they said even the most experienced sailors had difficulties in the rapids. I tried to close my eyes, but as soon as I did, I lost my balance, and I was thrown from side to side; the boat rocked more violently than ever, and I could barely pick myself up when I heard your voice again.

"Look at me! Please, just focus on me!" Your voice was still raised, and strained… not out of anger, but out of desperation. You wanted to see this through even more than I did. And suddenly, there was an ounce of hope that I heard from within your voice, and I turned to you in an instant.

"Just watch me..." Your voice trailed off as you continued to work at the oars, moving so sharply, yet so fluidly to keep the boat in balance. I could do nothing, of course, because you were the driver, but I watched as you began to rock in sync with the boat, and with the rapids, swiftly moving your oars back and forth to manoeuvre the boat around the larger rocks.

I set my eyes on you, and I concentrated on watching you move and sway about. All of a sudden, you did not look frantic or panicky as you controlled the boat; instead, you looked rested, in control, and full of hope for our survival. Soon, I my body was guided by your movements; I swayed as you swayed, leaned as you leaned.

"Brace yourself," you muttered, but I already knew that you wanted me to, and I ducked as you ducked, stead-fastedly holding to the sides of the boat as the rapids continued to spit rocks and shattered wood at us. I squinted as flying objects were thrown in our direction, cutting and biting into our skin; I winced at the pain, but I refused to take my eyes off you. Somehow, I knew that if I just obeyed your commands, I would see the end with more than just my skin on... but that I will have learnt to fully trust in you, because you know what you are doing, where you are going, with my safety as your topmost priority.

---

Does this not seem to paint a picture of our sailor, who tries to guide us, and show us the way in rocky streams, and rushing rapids?

PTL, Sarah.

The Delicate Equilibrium.

2010-07-11T23:45:00.007+10:00

I have a strange habit of only posting memoirs which are permeated with such strong levels of intensity; of obscure pain or sorrow, or of such refined happiness and joy that deserves no veil in front of it as its light breaks through the lines of black ink, and radiates its vibrant warmth from the led lighted screen. And as these waves leap from the screen, flooding into the chest -sometimes warming and calm, sometimes frigid and icy waters - they lap against solid hearts, finding small entrances into its tender secrets within.

In any movement of these currents, I could only hope the hearts consumed within it are moved along with it. However, the intensities of the overflow of my heart haven't been what I long my readers to be swept along with. The currents go deeper into colder, more mysterious, painfully bitter depths, and I long to change the direction in which these currents flow.

Perhaps my life is made from ocean trenches, and I am unable to channel these currents any other way, but the least I could do probably is to - yes, cast my readers into this flow of words - but not in biting, chilly tidal motions, but instead into a stream of warmth, which rushes them to the surface quicker, where the sun's rays may catch them, and hug them in its embrace.

So I've decided. If there is any lingering emotional imbalance, where sorrow far outweighs joy in a blog, I hope to restrain it, and instead pour in an extra flow of fervour to restore this emotional imbalance to its original state. I know in our humanity that we have a naturally great outpour of sorrow, and so little natural exuberance.

But thank God for the sun to warm our cooled currents. Thank God for His son to flood us with His love, hope and joy, so that we, in turn may illuminate His light to the coldest of hearts.

I cannot promise, but I hope to turn this leaf over, and let its wilted ends be revitalised once again in the same way I walk with edges that no longer wilt in its circumstance, but brim with the light that is my sustenance.

LOL, Sarah.

Hybrid Sentiments.

2010-07-02T00:18:00.005+10:00

You know what?

I'm alright with being replaced. Because first of all, being a friend of mine is no small feat. It's hard to be my friend. I don't mean that in a cocky, arrogant way; I mean if you make friends with me, it's usually tough to stay friends with me. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but it can't be your fault, seeing as so many people in the past have left me before in similar circumstances anyway.

I don't blame you at all. In fact, I want to congratulate you. It's probably a bad idea to have become my friend in the first place. All you'd be in for is a spark, a glimpse of some artificial warmth, for example, which embraces you and comforts you almost immediately; but then after a few moment's use - because it's not manufactured to last - soon enough, it'll explode right in your hands. You'll find no use for it in the long run. All that it'd leave you is with a slight burn on your palms, and a lingering thought ebbing away at your mind saying what a stupid idea it was to ever buy some cheapo "instant-warmth" device.

Don't think that I don't know it. I don't know why it happens, but it happens. It's almost inevitable. But the way you show off your new "insta-warmth" device right in front of me is punishing. There I lie, broken and filled with glitches. and you just dangle it in front of me, still prettied up in its case, and glinting in the light because you polish it. You cherish that device, because it works, of course.

But that never meant that I never tried to work for you. I did, and I still do. Yet you brush off any sign of warmth from me, because it's too much when it's teamed up with another. You only need one, and you haven't bothered to recover what was broken.

I shouldn't complain, because I'm a faulty device anyway. But has anyone tried to fix me after I've blown up in their hands? Has anyone bothered to think that maybe my glitches aren't unrepairable? I'm sorry to suddenly be all needy, but I'm actually trying to make it work. You aren't. Don't be a hypocrite about it.

Complaining about others not making it work for you is just not justifiable if you don't put in either. When I finally want a break, rest my damaged arms from this task, don't burn up against me and say that it's my fault that I'm broken. At least I try.

---
I'm writing this to a lot of people, and I'm sorry that it's one of my angriest blogs that I've ever posted in the 260ish posts already made.

On a lighter note, I learnt something really positive today - because I've been troubled with a lot of thoughts - friends who I wish could be closer, and impulses which, according to my morals, is as wrong as sin. But these temptations are just that: temptations that steer me away from having faith that God's got a brighter plan for me, a future that's so much better than that I could ever dream of. A best friend who will really love me and care for me, and whom I can truly fall in love with and call my husband. It makes this wait worth it... it makes this suffering worth it...

Even when it hurts most.

"What we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later." Romans 8:18 [NLT]

LOL, Sarah.

The Withdrawal.

2010-06-29T02:21:00.003+10:00

I don't feel pretty.

---
It was against my every urge. I glanced across the room over and over and soon enough I lost count. From time to time I was convinced that I had felt your eyes fall onto me; I almost wish that they stayed there so that you could see my own lock with yours. But against my very impulse, my want, and even my utter need to have this desire filled was neglected, and trampled across the dance floor as the music rumbled on. I would edge ever closer to you, but I could never face you. Just inches apart, a fire ran so fiercely through my veins, and demanded my complete concentration to fight myself, to keep myself in control, and to steer away from you...

And as I did, I succinctly heard my heart drop. The adrenaline that rushed through my entire body was suppressed - even squeezed out of the life of me - so resentfully and so regrettably as our proximity once again became the Great Divide...

Perhaps I will be thankful for my morality and levelheadedness in the long run, but for now, as my car pulls away from the venue, with me slumped limply over the back seat, watching the ray of light drown in the darkness; as I return to where I belong, a tiny hole in my heart remains open, and a space in my mind - a question of regret? - lingers, unanswered, unfilled, and unforgotten.

---
The last ever school formal ended too fast, too soon, and too regrettably.

LOL, Sarah.

Evanescent Moments.

2010-06-22T22:49:00.003+10:00

Although you probably don't remember me, and I could only see you from a distance, (save from being more stalker-ish than I seem right now), I just gotta say- nice haircut, Michael. I guess you were due for one sometime soon since last we met. (:

---
As the train picked up speed, and the familiar chugging of its wheels pulled it forwards along the track, I turned up the volume, and immersed myself in a flood of musical lyric. The carriage met a curve, and it begun swinging from side to side; as it rocked, I too, swung to my own rhythmic harmony, Or was it the other way around? the train wasn't just making a precise turn - no! It was really swaying along to my music, rocking along with me to the gentle melody. I could not help but conclude: the train was, in fact, praising the same God that I was worshiping.

I smiled in amazement and wonder, and increased the volume further, and closed my eyes, softly humming with such a renewed passion to worship along with everything around me. As always, the sun shone brighter than ever before, and the winds cooed from the outskirts of the carriage. The sky scrapers scraped the sky with more ferocity than usual, as if standing in majesty, for His glory. A delightful scene, indeed, as the train rocked me softly into worship, and I closed my eyes and engrossed myself back into wonder and awe.

---
Some days are truly splendid, and it's days like these when we can truly realise that everything happens for a reason; if we stop singing, the rocks soon will shout.

And it's these days where I can truly be myself, unhinged, and free from being suspended on the pendulum that swings me to and fro from who I am and who I'm forced to be.

LOL, Sarah.

Pensive Contemplation.

2010-06-12T22:32:00.004+10:00

This room is full of cling and clatter. Random objects are tangled on strings suspended across the ceiling; the dim light hangs in the centre, its weight supported only by the feeble wire, and it flickers weakly, but desperately, as if it were determined to shed light in its neglected territory.

All across the grimy carpet lay old newspapers, dated from up to years back, and the only recent one being ten days ago, all ripped up and torn, and finally lying limply in a messy heap on the floor. In another corner lays another large pile; unsorted, unlikely objects, all with a thick blanket of dust neatly resting atop each piece that stuck out, organised tastefully into a unique, utterly incomprehensible form. These objects are remarkably similar, and as each object is recognised, a little story seems to flow from within each one... Stories that ring a bell, and invoke reflection and reminisce.

The cupboards, desks, chairs, everything is filled, even overflowing, so that nothing can be closed; the room were as if it were a strangely deliberate display of an array of books thrown in every possible direction, with leafs carefully laid out dangerously close to the edge of a desk or shelf that it may fall if anyone touched it, and covers left wide open with nothing in between. Even the furniture seems antique: they have collected a thick, warm layer of dust over themselves, and their varnish is long gone, leaving unwanted, dull finishes, like the murky, dirty waters many would dare not even touch.

It seems that all life has been sucked out of this room; that is, all but a tiny little plant, sitting by its lonesome self beside a row of withered pot-plants, behind old, patched curtains that stole the room of any natural light. It puffs its own little chest as large as it can, although it is choked by the thick, dusty air. As much as it may have tried, gilings settled atop its little arms and intertwined with the tiny spikes over its body. Still, the cactus lived, and stood on the sooty window sill, soaking in the sun as it breached the clouded windows, permeating throughout the cactus' body, and in turn strengthening it to live on. The mini-cactus seems to know that the sun would still rise again to give light to it, even if all surrounding it had died so long ago.

And so I stood up, cupping the brave little cactus carefully in both hands, and left the room with a soft creak, followed by a muffled thump, before departing from the forgotten room. There, I left its memories, and miscellaneous objects undisturbed, aside from a stir of dust particles, floating dreamily in the air once again.

---
I feel delight. This piece, although seemingly dreary and probably boring to everyone else, is like the sun softly caressing my cheek, and its lovely warmth tickling my lips.
The room itself is strongly metaphoric, perhaps, of myself, or my thoughts: cluttered, messy, and full of memories and past memoirs played over again from a vinyl record over an age old gramophone.
These objects themselves remain untouched, for I can't take them with me, but even laying eyes on them stirs the music inside me, and sometimes I well up with tears in pensive reminisce.

But I know to let go.
I know I can't hold onto everything, for everything has its moment, its time, and its place. I would never forget it...but if I were to bring anything of the past with me, I'd bring the belief that even if everything else was now useless, and withered, and old, the sun would still rise for me, to strengthen me, and fill me with hope again.

LOL, Sarah.

Unprecedented Endowment.

2010-06-03T22:32:00.004+10:00

So, I was at the express checkout with all of two things: contact for my book so that it doesn't somehow rip to shreds whilst sliding and swaying around in my bulging bag, and another- this was last minute impulse buy of course- a packet of Oreos, on sale for 1$. It was the "sale" sign that really tipped me over into getting it, since I only had $5, I was quite satisfied how it all turned out. Anyway, I walked up to the counter (the lady was leaving, and I'd already been through once, and another check out lady I'd passed was at the express checkout now) and manoveured quickly towards the empty check out.

A checkout boy, probably no more than 3 years older than I was, was scanning my 2 items. His loosely cropped, curly blonde hair framed his face, and his glasses were carefully balanced on the bridge of his nose, as he was looking down and they had threatened to fall. About 3 inches taller than me, his lanky, skinny arms nimbly and quickly scanned the two items. I dazed at his tag, where small red print was underlined by larger, capitalised letters spelling out "MICHAEL". Absent-mindedly, I held out the 5 dollars I had so that he could take it, quickly and promptly, so I could be on my way.

"Uh, did you want a bag with that?" His clean voice suddenly broke into my daydream like a little pebble smashing a small window in my view. I snapped back to see him pointing at the two products I was about to pay for as they rolled lifelessly, limply across the counter. His eyes were hidden by the frames of his glasses, and his expression was somewhat dull - perhaps dying of utter boredom of his primitive job.

"Ah, no thanks", my voice almost wobbled, but I was sure I was sincere at it, and he took my money almost instantly.

"I just love -" Michael had began to talk whilst fiddling with the register, getting the receipt and my change at the same time (good at multitasking I suppose) "how you said - no - and made it sound like - I was really - stupid." A smile flickered across his face, but he remained looking down, focused on his present task. I tried to get a glimpse of his eyes, but they remained conveniently hidden behind the rims of his glasses.

"Oh!" I gasped, although I could not help having to stifle a chuckle "I didn't mean it in that way!"

"No no", I swear he almost laughed back, "that was really - good" He was finishing off his duty with the register again, and whispered, almost nonchalantly to himself "I hate asking that question", and passed me back my change and my receipt.

I glanced back up at him, but I still could not see his entire face; no matter, it was time to go anyway.

"Well, sorry anyway!" I managed to blurt out between a short laugh "ho-have a nice day then!" And I managed to capture one last smile of his before I walked out of the store, with a smile on my face, and more than what I'd bargained for.

---
I love it when we have random encounters with random people. It's just like an unexpected nugget of goodness - unpredictable and possibly will never happen again. But perhaps it's those little moments that can bright up an entire day. Tiny amounts of blessings in the most unexpected of ways... how good God is.

It did mine, thanks Michael. (:

LOL, Sarah.

Earnest Pleading.

2010-05-30T01:02:00.006+10:00

Forgiven - Sanctus Real.

Well the past is playing with my head
And failure knocks me down again
I'm reminded of the wrong
That I have said and done
And that devil just won't let me forget

In this life
I know what I've been
But here in your arms
I know what I am

I'm forgiven
And I don't have to carry
The weight of who I've been
Cause I'm forgiven

My mistakes are running through my mind
And I'll relive my days, in
the middle of the night
When I struggle with my pain,
wrestle with my pride
Sometimes I feel alone, and I cry

When I don't fit in and I don't
feel like I belong anywhere
When I don't measure up to much in this life
Oh, I'm a treasure in the
arms of Christ

LOL, Sarah.
Sanctus Real have the most down-to-earth and simple lyrics... I can only relate.

More Than Words.

2010-05-26T21:41:00.005+10:00

I had a dream about someone, and I think it's the first time I've ever dreamed of that person this way. It's been a while since I've dreamed this kind of dream... and it had to be about you.

Here's a shoddy go at an I-have-no-idea-what-style-this-is-but-whatever poem. (:

---
Just what is it about words that move us so?
When a string of words hangs alongside an orchestra of music,
why is it that we do sway,
to the eloquence of harmony, melody, and lyric,
which are, for our lips, a newly paved way?

Why is it that when one paints a picture with words,
The subject could be tragically beautiful,
Or on the contrary, beautifully tragic?
That words become the ticket to endorsing what is bountiful,
Or that words may just lead the way to utmost havoc?

When a combination of phrases, sentences, and paragraphs
Come together to be presently linked,
Why are we suddenly pulled into magnificent whirl,
Where pictures, painted by black and white print,
dictate us as a character in a new imaginary world?

When a single person speaks just words to the world,
So that all may understand,
Yet with such fervour and such heat...
Why is it that it brings some to stand,
And other still, end up down on their knees?

When a single word is spoken, just tell me how?
How does the crowd know to be silent,
And with another, to applaud with standing ovation?
How is it that they respond to the very instant
from keen observation of a new word revelation?

How is it that a single word brought into motion:
The sun to stretch its rays and shine
Down upon a fresh, new, beautiful day?
And how does another word hang the moon in the sky,
And make it smile through the winter haze?

How indeed, did a single breath of a single word
Call together the heavens and the earth
In celebration and worship to the Lord
As yet another whisper, to humans, gave birth?

And finally, what is it about just one word
That it would encapsulate in a single moment the revelation
We have longed for: the ineffable culmination?
The majesty, the wonder,
The glory, and the splendour,
The awe, the dominion of the one who supersedes any expectation?

Just what is it about the word 'Jesus'...

---
And there's my pathetic attempt... -_- I didn't know how to finish it! Forgive me. I've been working very hard on this, though (: I hope you like!

Wallowing Awe.

2010-05-15T23:26:00.007+10:00

The earth begins to shake, and the clouds gather in tumultuous fury. Thunder rumbles, and causes the earth to tremour in absolute fear. Droplets fall quickly, and all too soon become silver bullets penetrating the parched soils of the earth.

The clouds weep uncontrollably, and the earth wallows in its salty, dirty tears. The thunders bellow and roar, and vast claps of lightning encompass the gloomy sky. The clouds wail in fury, and with each cry, thunderbolts pervade throughout the mourning darkness.

But beyond the fury and the majesty of the tempest dysphoria, there is no more than broken anguish. The formidable roars are no more than the constant wailing of a morose heart, and the thick blanket of black is no more than a veil to disclose a grieving storm. The thunderous claps and clamours of lightning are no more than the bloodshot eye of the storm, drenching the deserted earth with its flood of tears.

And perhaps the storm is no more than a reflection of the sheer sadness of God as He weeps over His dying creation.

---
Jesus wept...

... And the earth cried along with Him.

And we, who are nothing, are swept into the awe of Christ, and we are immersed in the eternal presence of His majesty.

LOL, Sarah.

Keep My Heart Alive.

2010-05-11T21:26:00.005+10:00

What I find is that the most seemingly profound and inspirational quotes are simply common sense. The metaphors and similes that complete it add that extra imagery; that extra emotion, that invokes us to think it amazing beyond comprehension - how we think we could never think the same thing... and yet, we unequivocally agree to it as if they were words meant to be breathed from our mouths.

---
I have stumbled, yet I am caught in arms of love. I have deserved punishment, but overwhelmed by grace. I have been hard pressed on every side, but God is pushing me through it.

And I can only insist that strength of character isn't really about our strength at all. For as firmly as we wish to stand upon some foundation, and as much as we try to run towards our goal, we fall short. Our movements are restricted by the weakness of our bodies, and we are inevitably pulled down to the ground time and time again.

If anything, we cannot rely on our own bodies to cope. And we cannot rely on others to wait for us for as long as we are down.

But I am determined, for I know that in all my weakness, in all my pathetic performance, His strength is made perfect. I cannot hold onto anyone, and I cannot hold onto myself. But I can hold onto God, whose grace IS sufficient, and strength is perfect.

We have nothing but intention. But when our intention is set on God's glory, in all knowing that it is HE who makes all things work for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose, our intention suffices.

I have nothing I can attribute to so that I can pick myself up, other than my certainty that God does not want me lying here, tattered and torn in pieces. And I know this one thing: That God, in all His splendour and majesty, walks right by me, guiding me, and leading me, and showing me His way.

And He carries me on his back when I cannot stand any longer.

"It was then that I carried you".

As long as I believe.

LOL, Sarah.
Title by Sanctus Real from the album 'Pieces of a Real Heart'.

Amalgamating Convictions.

2010-05-08T23:21:00.007+10:00

The John Mayer Concert.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

It was amazing! I'm still super excited and I just can't hide it. It was definitely the highlight of this Monday... and probably this week. Possibly this year, and years to come. ARGH I still feel the adrenaline rush. Ahh, John Mayer. (: Could God make any human any more beautiful?

It lifts my mood, and I smile every time I think about it.

It's a good thing that I think about it a lot.

---
And the day after the event was not unmingled with unhappiness; even so.

I tried my best to make you happy for all of these years. My biggest goal was to make you laugh, and to make you feel loved. For as soon as you were happy, I felt that I could help but be happy myself. But the moment that I am happy without you, you seem to stare at me with such a look of scorn and distaste. And so it seems that I cannot be happy without you. I absolutely must only be happy when you are, and if there is something enlightening to me that I cannot relay towards you, I must do my utmost to conceal it from you.

So there you have it. I am sorry that I cannot help myself sometimes.

---
I suppose I am a bit weary these days. Things will come to you straight for a short while. And that, the truth is that I'm losing confidence. I'm uncertain, and thus I shudder at even the faintest whisper of wind. I am trembling more than ever, and though my steps are small, I am stumbling to and fro, and rocking back and forth in utter confusion, utter precariousness. I still believe in my God, in all this uncertainty, but I am selfish. Too selfish. I want more. I want too much.

Of course I cannot blame you. Who wouldn't run away from me? I am dangerous, I hurt unknowingly, and so much more painfully than any other simple, sad, and shallow acquaintance. I had foreseen this, and I made sure you knew as well. But I could not help myself. This was an opportunity that I thought I could not miss. Thus I did not, and consequently, I feel like I cut the rope, and burnt both ends, and I can only wonder how you hold up after my nasty affliction.

I feel a little sad. And a little alone. But I am determined to not let this selfishness overtake me. I only want to need my God. For His strength is made perfect in my weakness, and His grace is sufficient for all of my needs. And His love conquers all.

Such beautiful things to think about.

LOL, Sarah.

The Last Sunset.

2010-05-01T18:42:00.003+10:00

So it will be the last time I talk of the dying world. But it painfully glares at me, desperately nagging at me to do something about this. But what can I do? This world is too big for me. There are too many things; too many man-made things that I cannot undo. What can I do for you world, that people may see you the way I see you? Not just to see the paved path whirling into your death; no, but your beauty, your majesty, your glory. Just what is it that I am meant to do, so that people will see how truly beautiful you are?

I cannot. I am feeble and inept. I have my visions, but my visions fall short of faith and deeds.

So this is the one last time I will talk of this dying world. This is where I say what it truly means to me. What these sights, these visions truly mean to me.

The chokers of the earth are man-made destruction. It is our efforts to make our paths straight, to place glory upon ourselves, and to look at ourselves in majesty and awe.

But the gleaming beams of the rich warmth and radiance of the sun, is God's glory, breaching the destruction of man, persisting in being seen... but our own desires, our wants, long to block away the beauty of the sky, the comfort of Christ's warmth. We want to do things our own way, to block out the glory of God, and to lead our own lives. And we're killing ourselves in the process.

But God's glory will still shine. We just have to turn our eyes to the skies, and we will see Him, in all His splendour and holiness. Even when the world's seams are stripped away, He is still there, and in the face of our uncertainty, He holds us in His arms, and comforts us.

---
I only show you what I choose to show you... so what would happen if I show you everything I long to show someone else but myself?

LOL, Sarah.

Prospects Insipid.

2010-04-24T17:18:00.007+10:00

One day, the world may well swallow itself whole.

We are no longer blinded by the brilliant rays of the sun, but instead by the beaming headlights of motor vehicles, violently rushing past us as they impatiently draw near to their destination.
We no longer wait for the glow of the stars and the guiding light of the moon to greet us in its soft
reverie, and shine upon our path.
No, we impatiently work towards our own lights: artificial lights that enable us to work and play later on into the night.
We neglect the natural creation for our own, and are clogging out the world; a world which was once so beautiful.
A world untouched, unstained by the experiences of man.
One day, one will say 'What have we done?' as they search the horizon for the sun; it is gone, for the skies are black with clouds of oil.
And on that day, another will reply in glum sadness, 'What we can no longer undo'.
Man will finally weep for the world; not for its perishing, but for their ignorance to it.
And the world, so drowned in man's desire, will slowly fade away.
Neglected.
Forgotten.
Dead.

---
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
I have committed a treacherous doing. Your glorious covenant of law, thrashed to the ground, splintered into pieces by my very hand. And now, I can never pay it back.

And I know that You have paid the price for me already.

This repentant heart cries at Your feet. I need You, I cannot face the world alone.
I need You.
You are all I need.
Forgive me.

---
Pray, when do these tears cease?

"All these needless pains we bear because we do not carry everything to God in prayer". - What A Friend We Have In Jesus.
One of those worship revelations; something like God's opening our eyes...
And our bearing of so much pain, simply because we do not give it up to God.

LOL, Sarah.

Who We Were Then.

2010-04-22T19:58:00.005+10:00

A Day Late (Acoustic) - Anberlin

So let me get this straight:
You say now you love me all along.
What made you hesitate
To tell me in words what you really feel?
I can see it in your eyes,
You mean all of what you say.
I remember so long ago
See, I felt the same way.

Now we both have separate lives and lovers.
Insignificantly enough,
We both have significant others.
Only time will tell,
Time will turn and tell

We are who we were when
Could've been lovers
But at least you're still my day late friend.
We are who,
We are who we were when
Who knew what we knew now?
Could've been more,
But at least your still my day late friend.
We are who, we are who we were then

But thoughts may change,
And times they rearrange,
I don't know who you are anymore.
But thoughts come and go,
And this I know:
I'm not who you recall anymore.
But I must confess,
You're so much more than I remember.
Can't help but entertain
These thoughts of us together.

We are who we were when
Could've been lovers
But at least you're still my day late friend.
We are who,
We are who we were when
Who knew what we knew now?
Could've been more,
But at least your still my day late friend.
We are who, we are who we were then
My day late friend

So let me get this straight:
All these years and you were nowhere to be found,
And now you want me for your own.
But you're a day late,
and my love, she's still renowned.

We are who we were when
Could've been lovers
But at least you're still my day late friend.
We are who,
We are who we were when
Who knew what we knew now?
Could've been more,
But at least your still my day late friend.
We are who,
We are who we were then.

I like this song... it's a nice song (:

LOL, Sarah.

'Ad Infinitum'; Faithfulness.

2010-04-19T23:47:00.006+10:00

You made me smile today, and I suppose I've regretted even having you in my life. Gosh, you mean a lot more to me than even I thought. I really enjoy your presence.

And I suppose, all jokes aside, all those quirky rumours and enstranged truths aside... I'm really blessed to have you. I don't really thank you enough.

Because to me, you almost seemed like the sun, beaming upon me and enveloping me in your instant warmth, and sheltering me from all the rain and the hail that had been so wickedly sneering at me these past few weeks. Even the brightness of your rays seized the winds' howls, and sent them whimpering back into the dark mists above.

And yet, could I be less grateful? For I know in my heart of hearts, that I have not been satisfied with what I've been craving - selfishly, of course, and only partly by necessity, because I know, and everyone knows, that we cannot travel the world alone. Deservedly, we should, and I believe that with intense severity... but we aren't.

And to have this reveled upon me; the clouds, rolling back even a small portion of its wispy puffs, to reveal even a glimpse of His goodness through you. You may not believe it yourself, but I'm seeing it as a highlight, and I can no longer take you for granted.

If you read this, I wouldn't mind. If you don't, I still wouldn't mind. The heart of it is that you're a very good friend of mine, and perhaps in yours I am not inside that same framework, but nonetheless. You don't deserve any less.

---
I do really fear slipping back into fixed habits; disheveled and unorganised... not only in the exterior world but in mine own (ha, old English will be the death of me). Within my little, insignificant mind, I fear my attitude may fade, and my confidence will falter. And these fears are not without its doubts. I know I will.

But I know my God will rescue me.

LOL, Sarah.
Well, I've really begun to go overboard with these pictures ><" I love them though!! (: I mean, look at the sun peeking in the clouds! It's wonderful! With no credit to me of course :p

Trivial Musings and Earnest Pretense.

2010-04-18T22:23:00.005+10:00

My lips are dry and cracked, for I have yet to receive a rush of cool water throughout my body, and I am slumped on this lazy chair which reclines as I will it to by my mere weight - I am in earnest contemplation; that is, of the good things, and of the less charitable. But I figure it is useless to think about such things as these, to repeat excessively a single train of thought which encircles the entirety of my mind in only a second, with which it has no stop to unload its contents, or relieve its passengers of this aimless ride.
And I suppose this may be its only stop, and all I have to hope for is that it will terminate here; undoubtedly, although it may proceed its course in due time, I long for its burdensome carriage to be loosened from it, and remain emptied from this train as it continues its route. And so it stops here, and I can only hope, stays here:
"Hey, are you alright?" They looked over with an eye of concern, and perhaps a tinge of worry, but she was far too perceptive to have been fooled by their facade of care, as she, in turned, turned over to meet their eyes; upon doing so, their eyes of burdened concern flickered and glanced about elsewhere - anywhere but to the seemingly glum figure that sat before them. It was almost as if they could not even bear to meet her eyes, for fear that she would see through them, and she snickered at the failure of such a desperate attempt. She turned away from them, partly hypothesizing possible outcomes if she laid all upon them, but for the most part, in hurt, for their facades of care had considerably injured her.
"I'm assuredly fine, don't you worried," she lied through her teeth, "Although I do seem to be catching a bit of a cold. Ha ha". Her crude reply left her friends smiling and chortling with her, laughing at their silly assumption that there may have been something wrong. She smiled back at them, secretly sneering at their outrageously fake courtesy.

"Oh that's too bad. Well, hope you get better soon!" She was always suspicious about their earnest sincerity in those sorts of sayings; was there really any credibility in any of phrases?- But she said her thanks anyway. They left her to it: falling sick, and inside, hiding her injured heart.
---
And well, I can't fight this feeling anymore. As much as I long to suppress it, it will only strengthen and overwhelm me all the more. Why can't I simply accept what I have? Why is it such a necessity to become a burden to people around me?

LOL, Sarah.

Humanness.

2010-04-15T21:21:00.006+10:00

Dearest, I wish you wouldn't tire me out, so strenuously heaping all the burden and initiation on me; for there is only so much I can bear before I will collapse, and inevitably this whole relationship will too. Don't let my human failure be its demise.

I wish I would not hold you in such high esteem, but I cannot help it. I leave too much room for you to fall, in almost too full a trust that you will get back up again. I suppose I think too well of you, and you probably don't deserve it. No one deserves to be thought of like this; I should know, for I've experienced and learned countless times that you cannot fully depend on others.

But that doesn't then mean that I will hastily turn from you as soon as I see you buckle. I want to see you get back up again, and I would do anything in my power to help; only if you allow.

Again, I've bored myself out talking about my minuscule problems. -_-"
But on an outrageously, ridiculously amazing note, I'M GOING TO JOHN MAYER'S CONCERT! I smile everytime I think about it (: AHH I CAN'T WAIT (:

I'll blog something decent soon. . .

---
Okay, so I just found out that synonyms for 'humanity' include altruism, kindheartedness, compassion, benevolence.

And I suppose if I don't believe in anything else, I could believe in man's intention, because in the end, it's all we have if we can't even bring ourselves to do anything else.

LOL, Sarah.

Mmm School.

2010-04-14T22:15:00.003+10:00

So I've decided today to highlight one of the events that happened in my day that could have ruined my day, and possibly my entire week.. and then when I'm reminded of it again another 2 weeks. Formerly I wouldn't blog in this way, because to be completely honest, it really does bore me to death, the fact that I'm typing about what I've done, and what I'm doing and what I think about it. It's kind of why I love creative writing. It's like talking about me, but in such a sophisticatedly strange way that it doesn't sound like it at all and rather like a short story instead. It excites me... yeah I'm weird.

Anywho! Back to today. I'm reflecting, ew.

So I completed a SAC today, borderlining the time limit, but I've lost 6 marks out of a possible 30 for missing a question altogether. It's shattering, but what can you do, huh? Bad things happen, and there's nothing you can do about the situation but turn around and keep moving forward. I guess I'm more comforted by the fact that I did all that I could, regardless, and even though the outcome seems glum, everything happens for a reason, and everything will work out well in the end.

Mmm, I've already bored myself out. Well anyway, I'm just happy that I can move on, because I know there's more to life than a measly little SAC, and well, God's always in control, and everything will turn out for the good (: Romans 8:28! So all I did was drown my sorrows with a hot chocolate, but I was chipper for the remainder of the day. I hold on to the hope that God is faithful and He will provide (:

Which kind of places me into a state of being 'okay'. And I guess when you're okay, your friends are okay, which is what we all want, right? Mm yeah, but I'm greedy and selfish and needy, so...

I wrote like thrice as much as this, but golly, I can really bore myself out! Haha, so this is the end result. (:

LOL, Sarah
These posts are so lame... it deserved a lame title.

Obsessive Governance.

2010-04-09T01:00:00.005+10:00

I really had no idea where I was going with this...

---
We fear letting go of our problems, for we fear that they may control us. We trust ourselves far too much, and we're only too happy to take on as much as we can... as long as we're under control.

But who are we kidding? We're masters of our own destruction. We're piling up the papers, unknowingly that we're on the top of the ladder just to place the last bit on a mountain of papers. And when we come back down, we eagerly unslot a loose leaf, only too late to realise that it's all falling upon us; our world - that is, our worries crushing down upon us and overwhelming us in oceans of despair (cliche, I know >_>).

But it's who we are. We like to be in complete control - of everything we can muster in our life. When it comes to relationships, what can we do? We're too controlling to surrender even an inkling of our life story to another, perhaps lend them the pen, and let them write a chapter into our books, or even simply a paragraph or sentence. It's so hard for us to let anyone else in without surrendering our control, but until we do, they can't really be there, can they?

Because we all like to be independent. We all like to be in control. We don't ever want to rely on others - for fear of becoming a burden, perhaps, or simply because of our pride, and so we clasp onto the reigns even tighter, determined to do it ourselves. But our hearts will never be broken, moulded and shaped if we don't surrender the 'maker's position. We want to be independent, and yes, that's a good thing... but really, how much can we rely on ourselves? Sooner or later we'll be overwhelmed by a mountain of problems that we simply can't handle ourselves. And it's simple: we're pathetic. Who knew? Yet we give ourselves too much credit, allocating ourselves with far more than we ourselves can bear. We simply cannot do it all ourselves. Sometimes, we need to give others the reigns so that we can rest.

And we can't have others work in our lives until we give them that control to. We can't have God moving in our lives if we haven't surrendered any part of ourselves to Him. Once we do surrender to God, who holds the world in His hands... how much more will He take care of us? He who dresses the flowers, and gives beautiful tunes for the bird to sing. He who paid attention to the detail, so much that He created us in His own likeness...

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

If only we would surrender, and ask Him what we obviously need...

²⁸“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.²⁹Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Stuff Christians like, yeah I can't really say anything else cos I'm going all blabbery and jibber jabbering: clicky here people!

---
I'm fairly level-headed, I like to say, but I hate this feeling of being fooled. Not by anyone else, because I can laugh it off sooner or later... but this feeling of fooling myself. I've had no one to help me convince myself that I'm fine, that I have all that I need - even though I really do. How could I complain? Why do I complain? Why am I so selfish, when it's so evident that I have all that I need and so much more?

But I'm so tired of all this convincing. Sometimes it just feels like I'm fooling myself into believing something that isn't really there.

Argh.

Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, I really need to see You.

---
I just needed to write T_T

LOL, Sarah.
I really need to let go.

Abstract Deception.

2010-04-07T17:25:00.008+10:00

Of course, I'm not one who regrets their sleep, no matter how long it may be. Sleep is an infallible state to be in: the almighty cure to weariness, albeit from psychological, to physical, and even emotional causes. Sleep brings about rest, and possibly temporary peace. It also (almost literally) takes you away to another world, a world full of dreams with no expectations, of boundless vision and no effort. It's blatant that I do appreciate my sleep.

But it seems as though, lately, my sleep had led me to a pinnacle of distress. What was once, personally, my cure for not only physical tiredness, but especially to alleviate my emotional outbursts, has become a place of its very own conception of a second fantasized reality with just the same consequences due to my situations in my dreamy state. Somehow, my visionary dreams have turned from such immature illusions as being able to fly or breathe underwater, and instead have become situations which are astoundingly normal, and fantastically real.

The problem, however, isn't that I am unable to fly, or breathe underwater, although I can delight in these childish desires within my dreams, but it is that I am confronted once again with a reality which I already must deal with. Dreams are bizarre, and this fantastic depiction of reality really ebbs away at my apprehensions of situations that could possibly be what I would face in the real. The environment of my dreams: too realistic, and too parallel to what surrounds me whilst I'm awake, and the circumstances, they are like my very own situations, but I am displaced to wind up in one where there is no good solution but for me to hurt...

I wake up suddenly, in tears, far more often than I expect to be; I only cry for two reasons, and this has become one of them. Another is that these second realities are far too like realities, and I am struggling so much more nowadays even to simply get a glimpse of my reality: being awake, being truly aware of my surroundings and the place I live in, not the place I dreamed to be in.

And now I have a new fear: I fear my dreams will overtake me, and I fear not being able to wake on my own accord, no matter how I fight to be awake, because I know I don't belong in dreams. And even then, my dreams now only torment me and punish me. I simply don't know why.

The first day of spring...

This was the first... and no doubt not the last. I am troubled, constantly, and I am growing more weary than ever, for I now fear sleep, even though I need it. It scares me. The emotion which has been invoked by these deceptive realities is real, and has left me in a constant state of distress.

Hmm...

LOL, Sarah.
She doesn't doubt this relationship... so why should I... or why do I?

Conceptual Reverberations.

2010-04-01T22:47:00.010+11:00

Music; it steals your senses away into a world of its own.

A thump of the drum is like a sudden dream; you're thrown into a new world of wonders, and of pure senses.
A slide on the guitar is like the quenching of thirst; drips of water splashing into your dry throat.
A hum of a sustained note is like the sudden sensation in your fingers; a rush of warmth as you press your hand on a sun-baked footpath on an ardent autumn day.
A whisper of melody is like the sweet aroma of a flower; a permeating encounter of its blossoming freshness.

The clustering of all that's harmonious is like the sudden invoking of tears; tears of joy, of sadness, and of reminisce.

But strip away all senses; all emotion... and what have you left? Nothing more than the mashing of different notes and sounds together, like white noise: simple, incomprehensible and simply nothing.

"Music makes sense."

LOL, Sarah.
No, that's not me in the picture. I got two pictures this time because they're both pretty and conceptual! :D

Echoed Memoirs.

2010-03-30T00:53:00.010+11:00

"The saddest thing about human nature is that we must trample on others in order to elevate ourselves."

---
It was all he could ever ask for. A glint in its glossy blue eyes, and limbs which imitated nothing but strength and masculinity. It was his perfect role model.
"Don't wear him out, now", the boy's mother smiled upon her beaming child as they got into the car. She handed her the keys and he raced into the house and into his room, ready to play with his new favourite toy.

Hours had past, and he still wouldn't let go of his toy. He brought it to dinner, and sat the toy right beside him on its own stool, and even served him with its own plate and cutlery to eat from. Of course he knew that it was only a toy, but he envisioned it all nonetheless. His mother simply smiled and watched him as he zoomed his spoon around the toy's mouth, before placing it into his own.

The very next day, his mother had dropped the boy off to school, hand in hand with his toy, running through the school gates to get to his mates on the playground. All the other kids were in awe of this fabulous toy, and the boy lifted it up in proud ownership. Together, they declared that their new group leader was the boy and his new toy.

Weeks past, and the boy still loved his toy as always, but spent less time with it. Each day, he would go home, and greet the toy, but neglected to take it off the shelf instead turning his interests to a new amusement: playing the guitar, after witnessing an astonishing video on Youtube of an unknown artist shredding away at this wooden instrument. Sometimes he would sit on his bed and play a song or two to his toy, before placing the guitar neatly next to his bed, and snuggled in his sheets, ready to wake up bright and early to practice his newly founded talent.

A few months later, and the boy no longer doted upon the poor toy. It sat there, on the top shelf in his bedroom, severely worn from play, and dust settling in its cracks. "Mum, can you please throw that out. It's taking up too much space," and his mother would look upon his son with a dismal smile, and took the toy away. The boy forgot about it ever since.

---
What a shame it is when something that once convenienced you now only acts as a burden, tedious and bothersome. Stupid things that inconvenience you so should disappear out of your sight. And rightly so.

It sucks that your toys leave your heart guilt-ridden and your mind tormented. It sucks that they cling to you, especially when they clearly don't deserve you, and with sad, glossy (or is it watery?) eyes, they look back on you as you send them away to alleviate your burdened heart.

LOL, Sarah.
You just proved me right.

Face.

2010-03-29T11:12:00.003+11:00

Life will strip you of your possessions; your career, your living, your life's work.
It will strip you of your pride, of your love, and all you have ever cared about.
One day, you will sit in the bar, draining another glass, and wondering: "who the hell am I, really?"
Because you have nothing: you're retired, your family doesn't seem to care, and on the most part, the things you have don't please you anymore.

So who are you?
Are you shaped by what you have? What you have accomplished?

Who are you?
Because when life strips you of everything you could ever have had,
You become a lifeless mortal whose experience was to dress themselves up in the latest trends, only to soon realise that as soon as life comes, life goes...
And life goes on.

So who are you?
When you have nothing, when you truly have nothing... how much does everything mean to you then?

And finally, are you your own?

LOL, Sarah.
I know who I am, at least.

We Sing Holy.

2010-03-28T23:32:00.006+11:00

"Open the eyes of my heart Lord, I want to see You"

I had an epiphany whilst singing this lyric over and over on stage today. It's probably something everyone knows, but goodness, what a reminder that is direly needed by everyone.

... Because all we really need to do is be willing, and He will do it.

And just knowing that is just... wow.

--
"not all the birds and butterflies will stay on your hands forever... some may fly away and come back, some may never come back. But true companionship and trust stay at the warmth of your hands as long you don't close your hands on them..." - NitNav.

LOL, Sarah.
You mean more to me than you will ever know.

The Nonsensical Prose.

2010-03-26T23:37:00.004+11:00

This neglect was inevitable. I never much could flow with the trend; I'm a traditionalist, of course, as quickly as I try to fall into the latest fads, it seems much more like falling through clouds of foam in the sky, only to be met with crisp air once again as I dive back into the earth's atmosphere. No, these were only phases that I would do my best to fit well in, and perhaps I would be absorbed in them for hours; no weeks, and possibly even months on end. Just like this blog.

But I can't be contained by these constantly changing trends, fads, phases, call it what you want. I'd as soon fall out of the sky like a condensed vapour too soon after it has been elevated to the clouds above. I simply cannot do it.

And I need to address you. I need to tell you that I am done being selfish. Nothing is truly mine, and I cannot ever say that who I love will fully love me back. I will no longer hold you to myself, for I no longer want to think that I deserve more than what I am getting. I am content if you love me, and I will still be content if you love me less.

There is no jealousy when I look upon you and see your friendships blossom like the spring flowers in the early morning breeze, sprinkled over with tiny droplets of dew. But you are more like the seasons, constantly changing to suit your needs, to hide your own inconsistencies, whilst I battle against your polarities; how I struggle to find my foundations in the murky soil, all at once dry and thirsty, as well as saturated almost till I drown, and stand with all of you.

But I simply cannot. I am a pebble among a sea of rocks, and whilst you may have smooth edges as I do, I cannot slot comfortably into an opening where your rough cuts would not scratch at my delicate surface. I simply need to be left to nestle by myself, and be churned, shaped and weathered not by you, but by the winds, the waters, and the sun.

They say ignorance is bliss, but I say ignorance is the one thing that will tear even the closest friendships apart. I know this from experience, that you simply cannot ignore something, and hope to the Heavens that one day it will be alright. Because that one day might never come, and by the time you realise it, it's too late. Like it was for him and I.

I hope it isn't too late for us. But I retain myself from suffocating you with my presence.
Be free. Be lively. Be happy, even if it's without me.

LOL, Sarah.

Inert.

2010-03-13T15:55:00.004+11:00

Where people show their ugliest facade,
the world gleams in its dying days.

---
They say that the stillest waters are often the deepest waters...

Be still.
Be reflective of the light that shines upon you.
It searches deep into the darkest depths of your heart,
Its light bouncing off neglected ornaments and articles tattered on the ocean floor.

Shallow waters are impatient, and always in a hurry.
They reflect with dozens of distractions, unable to keep still.
Reverberations keep them ignorant, or in fear...
They gleam with stunning colour and spark,
Flashy, they trickle and tremble about,
Hiding away their shallow depths, for they know they cannot fool light.

But Light will not plunge into shallow's rippling heart...
But only into one whose depths stand by upon its surveying.
One in hopes of recognition, of discovery.
To shed light on the darkest secrets,
And to finally surface what's been hidden for too long,

---
It's all so futile, I have no other reason anymore.

This was better in my head...

LOL, Sarah.
I hate to say this to you.
"There's really no way to reach me, because I'm already gone."

Polaroids and Cassettes.

2010-03-01T01:42:00.012+11:00

If I had a camera in my eye,
That could develop all my past memories into treasured videos and Polaroids,
I would capture the world's beauty;
The dew drizzled rose, a budding flower's unfurl.
The smile of innocence will remain forever,
Remained untainted,
Unstained by experience.

----
(Alternate/Long version)

If I had a camera in my eye,
Would I capture the world as I saw it,
Or rather, as I willed it to be?
A world full of hope,
Where flowers still blossom and children still laugh,
With no restrain?
Or would I capture the heaving sighs of the weeping willows,
Truly weeping now that they lie there,
Weathered, old and dying?

--
The earth's breath choked by the very hands of men,
Skyscrapers grow larger than the sky itself,
And the oceans of blue become muddy blacks.
Perhaps I could show people what the world is truly like, or only that reality is what they themselves perceive it to be...

-
Perhaps we can finally grasp the once-in-a-lifetime shots
And place them in neat little photo frames in the back of our minds
Never forgotten, never forsaken.

But all of a sudden, there is no such thing called a once-in-a-lifetime shot.
Breathtaking moments would be but reduced to mere sights,
Sights seen a million times on end,
Seen by everyone,
Over and over again.

"Once-in-a-lifetime"
too quickly becomes
"I've-seen-it-before"
and
"That's-average".
And what then will be beauty?

And those moments of unimpeded laughter,
What of them?
Will they be but muscles that stretch bright lips to reveal a line of brilliant whites,
And a distant echo;
Remembered, but in turn,
Long forgotten?

--
I would be blind with pretty pictures and non-existent smiles,
Curtaining my present sufferings in the diminutive hope that maybe it will pass when I open my eyes again...

My film will be overwritten with the unwanted reality that we all must inevitably face, but our memories have only left us unfit and unequipped for the trials ahead.

---
We will convince that our past is better than our present, and our memories are the only things that keep us alive. That our happiness stems from our childhood, not from our present tribulations, and this is why we wish our eyes were cameras that took snapshots of the best moments of our lives.
And unfortunately we will neglect our sadness, hardships and adversity... But if we do not know sadness, how can we know to be thankful for our happyness?

If my eye were more the camera, I would be less the human, destitute of memories past and memoirs present; forbidden to the joy and the hope of the future.

LOL, Sarah.
You've become so frigid... have you lost your fiery passion that once burned so fervently deep inside?

Serenity's Inconvenience.

2010-02-26T00:05:00.004+11:00

Ripples interrupt the tranquility of still waters,
and clarity diminishes...

... but its beauty never ceases.

LOL, Sarah.

Detached Concord.

2010-02-20T00:12:00.008+11:00

How could I describe you with such simplistic words that would capture your precise essence, without degrading you, nor elevating you too high with too far of an exaggeration? I wanted to keep this realistic, but I fear my words would place you completely out of proportion to your true self. I'll try for it anyway, not ignoring your faults, of course, but certainly not focusing entirely on the most appealing of your character.

---
You were possibly one of the friendliest people I've met, with a tinge of shyness that cast you aside from being fully welcomed. I too, was still fresh into this new world in which we both embarked in, but I guess you were more alone than I was, that day. Well, I welcomed you with melancholic smiles, encouraging you to even show your face... But your quiet voice hid away your true character, and attempted its best to paint you as secluded, outcast, and unbelonging. Never to worry though, for I happened to be able to hear past that soft but oh-so-cute voice of yours to hear your desires to simply be loved...

And love you, I did. We grew attached to each other, almost too attached that we were inseparable. In fact, I do remember enough to think that as you left me to travel halfway across the world for a while, I couldn't help but feel literally alone. Everyone else noticed too.

Anyway, I observed you as you eventually came out of that little shell of yours; an exuberant being surfaced, lively with a yet-to-be-spoiled sense of humour, easily amused, we could say. You were thoroughly enticing, and there was everything about you to be liked. I guess I adored you then, and it really was back then when I exalted all the good in you, perhaps overlooking your flaws, or perhaps simply too blinded by instant admiration to see you for who you were.

Not that you were a horrible person, of course. I still maintain that you are one of the friendliest, most affectionate people I know. Or are you? For I fear that you have me fooled enough to keep me hanging on to your intimacy so you're reminded that I could never love you less...

You, among the rest of the world, sought happyness, and you sought love. And like most... you find it, only to find you lose it.

Of course, you knew that I loved you endlessly, and I guess even though I didn't agree with you, all I wanted was for you to be happy... I didn't want you angry with me; one day of that seems almost already too much for me to bear for the remainder of our friendship. But when you find some sort of different love, and lose it... it's like expanding your heart. You stretched it so much just so you could fit this new love in, but by that time, they've waited too long for you to change for them. Suddenly you're not enough for them, and they've become too much for you to bear.

It's not your fault of course, but it's like this: the void in your heart can no longer be filled by my now seemingly pointless efforts of affection and ardour. I seem to fail in every aspect to try and comfort you, so much so that I've found you to be leaving my side more. You're growing, I know, and you're not mine. I can't have you, but can you look back, even just once and tell me how much (or how little..) I mean to you?

You've become sensitive... or maybe you have always been, now that I choose my words more carefully than ever when I'm around you. I cannot say something without fearing a reproachful response from you. You've become almost mute, too. I've realised that love doesn't almost blind, but love silences too. Maybe I'm overanalysing, but you've been silent for a long time now, and I'm beginning to mistake your independence for your ignorance. I'm sorry.

---
... And now, I would just laugh dryly, pitying myself, for I know that you're doing so much better apart from me than I am apart from you. You're so unknowingly ignorant towards me... and because of that, I cannot help but to forgive you. How can I blame you for something you do not know?

---
It's too bad that you break your heart to half it with a best friend... knowing that you'll never have it back.

LOL, Sarah.

Individualistic Sentiment.

2010-02-16T23:54:00.005+11:00

We held unbelievably steadfast to each other, drenching ourselves in the other's showers of praise, care and love for the other. We were bound so close, that no one could tell us apart - that is, no one wanted to, because it was as if we were stuck at the hip; our traits were in sync, our every musing mimicked and complemented each other. Because... after all, opposites attract, don't they?

But now that people can tell as apart, we've become apart - and I cannot deny that I face losing myself... a part. Suddenly I am standing alone, feeling old, withered and grey, stuck with myself, and stuck pitying myself. I'm not quite complete without you.. but as long as you are, I will be...

starlight and moons grey,
clouds hanging in dismay.
blanket covered pitch black
as i silently pray to have you back.

winds surface and coo
leaves now turn and renew.
trickles down winding streams
as i lose you, one of my binding seams.

I'm so unwilling to let you go,
for I know that you can live without me.

For now, as I listen to soft words, the similar tremour of almost silence breaks my heart. I am not saying goodbye... but the horizons show too much of a likeness to the foreshadowing of never hearing a 'see you later' ever again is clouding my eyes with too much water for them to bear.

---
And it was there that I stood, my eyes filmed with memories past and present.

My heart has motioned its doors to open; an invitation to your whisper of words like a soft gail of wind seeping softly, effortlessly into my heart. Perhaps they were too harsh, and the shelves on the walls of my heart loosened their stability, sending numerous items of value to the cold, dusty floor. You knew I knew what you were talking about, but my entire body shivered, and my knees buckled at the sudden truth of your words, a burden I'd deluded myself to think was aloft me.

It was a sudden but inevitable reality to face... To know that I was hurting this much, even though there was minimal contribution to the reality at hand... The prospects hurt.

Suffice to say, I'm scared as hell losing you.

LOL, Sarah.
How could something so small matter so much? Just why?

Inadvertent Liar.

2010-02-07T21:38:00.005+11:00

Hey you, again.

It's been a while since we've talked. Since late October, 2008, and that was a long time ago. I see you've been doing well to yourself... Haven't you? Well, let's take a look at yourself and analyse you once again. After all, who does a better job... than me?

You've learnt a lot through the years, with my help of course: you've endured a long line of suffered relations, and your heart has become so calloused that you are perpetually numb to losses - or perhaps I should call you arrogantly ignorant of them? Even so, you've learnt it the unscrupulously hard way, so I guess I shouldn't be too hard on you.

If anything, the best thing you've learnt is to save your own skin; only aiming to please the other... in any way, to keep them smiling, for as long as they're happy, you're alright, yeah? And if the relation should ever end... at least you're not in the wrong, true?

Well! You've successfully deluded yourself into believing your actions have not been incorrect, but instead, that your conduct reflects your true values, earnest morals, and I suppose what you believe to be your whole character. You even seem to pride yourself amongst these things, of which you've extorted yourself too harshly into doing so. But I see how you've somehow succumbed once again to me; your true self, of who I am in a complete state of frenzied paranoia and cynic. You've fallen far deeper than you and I had ever intended, and it can be construed that upon my perusal - let me just say this: you're utterly screwed.

Funny, isn't it? Whilst your intentions are pure, and you have no suggestive motive within your behaviour, yet I cannot help but scrutinize the inevitable loophole beyond your seemingly genuine implications, because I am almost believing beyond reasonable doubt that your actions are leading to dissolute ends... if not on your part, it's on the other party to tolerate it.

I still dislike you... but I'm learning to put up with you. Just please, if you truly wanted to make everyone feel special, and feel like their worthy of the love you're trying to portray - not your love, but His, change your ways.

And yet, I'm stuck with you, and I'm at a loss at how to change it too..

Yours truly,
LOL, Sarah.

Compromise.

2010-02-01T23:28:00.003+11:00

I always seem to compromise my needs for my wants.

Just for that little bit longer.

---

SCHOOL.
GOODBYE LIFE.

LOL, Sarah.

Execration.

2010-01-30T06:13:00.005+11:00

The stupid thing about swear words is that we try to sound cooler by sounding offensive. We take normal, non-offensive, pedestrian, civilian and society-friendly words; take bother, for example, and screw it around enough till it becomes so offensive that we were once shunned to even think of the word.
Can't be bothered. Eh, sounds too... Polite.
Can't be stuffed. Mmm... could do with some working on. Stuffed is used fairly loosely. Refers to pretty much any existent noun nameable. Or unnameable in this matter.
Can't be _. You know it.
Why? It's so.. weird.
And yet now, swearing is our second nature. How ironic.
It's as if swear words were our way of expression. Through tone, pitch, volume... the harshness of a single word can be multiplied three-fold.

*sigh* If only the lips of my mind could be sealed shut forever, for they carry zip but profanity and anchors of depression. Sealed off. Unheard, unwanted. Unnecessary.

LOL, Sarah.
This is my second post in the span of 10 minutes. How strange.

6:00AM.

2010-01-30T05:34:00.004+11:00

Good evening and good morning, I suppose for the late sleepers and early risers. Tally ho, it's Sarah DO!
Assuring you that I am delirious. Awake and delirious.

---
You're an entertainer. You provide people with brain-teasers with solutions so simple they even yourself. You delude people into thinking that you're some sort of mysterious, wonderful magician, whose true name must not be known! But of course, who cares for real names? Anonymity is your key, for one.
Just like a clown, you can juggle. Juggling all sorts of things: knives, flaming arrows, or just the usual hacky sacks... as long as it's balanced.
One hand must hold half the weight of what was in the air... if you're balancing three.
If you drop one, keep your face exposed. Make sure it seems like it was what you were meant to do. After all, you're on thin ice. Almost literally. Even a second's loss of momentum will send you down the drain.
At least it's a dam. You won't be stuck there for long. People come looking for you. They'll seek you out and tell you of what an idiot you are to have been doing so many things at once. But that's the idea. You entertain. You balance.
And if you can't, well you've just lost your life.

---
I only wish that during this hour I could manipulate such cold and rigid thoughts in such a manner that pleases the eye and enlightens the mind; I wanted to write a triangular prism of glass which overturns into a dazzling rainbow of colour. So simple, isn't it? And yet somehow, your heartstrings are tugged at, and your mind begins at work. Careful though, we don't want to exhaust that brain so much as to ruin the rest of the day now, do we?
But still... not even just an inkling of inspiration? A drop? A mere trickle down this dried up river?
Well anyway.

I don't know what I'm doing. I've lost sight of my road. Where, do I suppose, is this chapter meant to be leading me?

I don't, I know, I'm screwed.

LOL, Sarah.

Seminary Donuts.

2010-01-26T01:30:00.003+11:00

Two things you should know before reading this:
1. I didn't write it; I'm sorry but all I have to say is sad stuff, and I don't want to say sad stuff. Not myself at the moment.
2. Try and read it. It's worth the read.

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending Seminary in Utah. In this Seminary, classes are held during school hours.

Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class.

Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."

Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"

Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."

"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?"

Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time."

"Do you think you could?" asked Brother Christianson again.

"Well, I can try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.

Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it."

Brother Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room.

When class started, Brother Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.

Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked,

"Cynthia, do you want a donut?"

Cynthia said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?"

Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you want a donut?"

Joe said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?"

Steve did ten push-ups; Joe got a donut.

And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott.

Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?" Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"

Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."

Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"

Steve started to do ten pushups.

Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"

Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.

Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"

Jenny said, "No."

Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?"

Steve did ten; Jenny got a donut.

By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely.

Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"

Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!"

Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."

Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."

Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?"

"Yes."

"Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?"

Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?"

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda.

Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?"

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson , can I help him?"

Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone. Steve, would you do ten pushups so Susan can have a donut?"

As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him, and he fell to the floor.

Brother Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my Spirit." With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."

LOL, Sarah.

Auscultate Narcissism.

2010-01-23T23:03:00.008+11:00

Listen.
Everyone's talking.
Loudly.
It's a battle of voices.
Everyone wants to be heard.

No one wants to listen.
Just heard.
Or they will say something...
To make way for them to say more.

But what of the listeners?
Do their ears bleed in silence, whilst profanity rests on their tongue as they keep their mouths shut?

Their hearts are too full of others, and there is no one to speak to.
No one but themselves.
Their hearts break from the burden of everyone's cries...
And the weight of their own voices.

And they are left. Alone and shattered, with no one to hear them.

LOL, Sarah.

Destitute Discourse.

2010-01-16T01:36:00.009+11:00

Photographer: Phillip Le. (:
There's one of the sky that I like x]: not good but still!

---
The air was crisp and fresh as the wind cooed softly, melodiously swirling the loose hairs from my head in motion with its murmurs. Faint steps were carried with the wind as we plodded our way down the wooden deck; it stretched out into the black waters, which lapped against the pillars in utmost harmony, and radiated with reflected the pastel lights of the scene above it. Boats heaved to and fro in sync with each other, and their lights bounced off the waters like swarms of variously coloured fireflies at twilight hour.

We'd settled down at a comfortable spot near the end of the pier, and bubbles of conversation burst from various corners of the odd circle we'd placed ourselves in. I inhaled slowly, and exhaled again as I refrained from conversation... the two beside me had their focus turned elsewhere anyway. I listened to the wood creak slightly as I eased myself onto the deck, and I opened my eyes to the blanket of sky in the middle of the night.

The stars were as scattered as I'd felt; they were shrouded by a lumpy mist that stretched across the sky, much like the texture of an untouched desert, where shallow crevices paralleled each other over dunes of parched sands. The stars were the tiny diamonds of the barren plains of the sky. They glimmered ever so elegantly... it instantaneously reminded me of a rare quote I'd found in a friend's going away autography book: good friends are like stars. You can't always see them, but they're always there...

I felt your presence beside me as I listened to the soft swishing of the water beneath me, imagining its pathways, encircling the pillars which drank from a neverending source of salty replenishment. The wooden deck ached until you spread yourself evenly between the planks, exhaling softly as you rested your head on the wood. Your camera fell and rose on your chest to your momentous breathing, until you lifted it daintily to your face, pointing its lens to the starry night.

"I'm too tired to talk..." I strained my voice in the most sincerest hope that you wouldn't take it the wrong way... that I was far too emotionally and physically drained to make some decent conversation with you, despite my obvious longing to. You said nothing, and continued to take pictures of the cloudy night.

Even then, I'd started a conversation. I'd wanted to talk, despite my empty barrel, once filled with so many words at the beginning of the week... I'm empty, and yet I still let droplets of phrases escape my lips.

LOL, Sarah.
Been a while since I posted something like this.. a story. (:

PS: I still miss you interstaters dearly... RCV from Adelaide... A from Perth...

Cloudy Sunshine.

2010-01-13T21:37:00.010+11:00

BESTFRIENDILOVEYOU.

---
Amy... I'd rather be an introvert then.

why are you still everywhere i turn? as if you were hail, biting at my skin, even if i find shelter, your coldness snaps at my toes as i struggle to hide away in the ebbing warmth of a dark corner of concrete. i would crouch so hard that my ribs would break as i become a ball squeezed into an even smaller cube, as if i could be compressed; my flesh filled every gap, and bones would shatter to create flexibility...

7 months on and i still miss you. what the hell is wrong with me?

argh, i don't want to think about this anymore.

---
I have something good for tomorrow!

LOL, Sarah.

NYR's.

2010-01-11T00:10:00.003+11:00

New Year's Resolutions:
To let the people I love know that they're loved...
And to try harder so that I won't lose any more relationships unless it's really time to go.

I realised today that I'm not an introvert... although nor am I an extrovert. There is a hefty weight on each side that balances me between two polarities, each from time to time dipping dangerously deeper to the left... sometimes to the right. Weights have begun to shift towards the favourable end, and the pole with which the weights once were held unswervingly has fallen to a slant.
Unstable. Insecure. Breakable.

It's simply between me and who I should be... and I have found myself at a crossroads in my personality. Which road can I take?

---
Spongebob:
What do you usually do when I’m gone?

Patrick:
Wait for you to come back.

Naw...!

LOL, Sarah.

Binary Countanance.

2010-01-09T13:46:00.004+11:00

Hello italics, do you remember the post on Sunday, May 17th, 2009? Well, It seems that whatever that meant, I still haven't shaken it. I have just distracted myself from it... And now I'm just scared.

... No, you've been erased.

Maybe you wouldn't know that I'm an excellent introvert. I have some cunning in being able to hide away the darker corners of my mind. Perhaps I am too deep of an ocean, too scary for anyone to explore, and far too cold for anyone to comfortably dive through.

Enough of this.

---
I strode across the front hallway towards the hall of the sanctuary, and my first sights were immediately turned towards the right side; black dots bounced off every spurt of colour, slumped forwards with contrasts of various material: velvet, silk, cotton...
The right side of the church was absolutely packed with people, sleepy Christians whose beds were indicative of the mess of the corridor and the smaller rooms within the building.
A smile flickered across my face as I watched sleepy faces turn about and lips slur words so seemingly incomprehensible. A few cracks of laughter burst here and then, but the overall murmur sounded like soft pellets of rain on the deck late at night.
I would have taken my seat by a few friends I'd normally spoken to, but there were no seats to my avail. I smiled at the thought, and proceeded to greet everyone I'd fell in love with.

This twice-a-year tradition struck me as memorable, as feeble as it seemed; that somehow we'd become so full that we absolutely had to be sent out... And just so, we dispersed.

---
My heart has become too full of fake words and deceitful lies that you've fed me. I only wish I could give you more than what you've taken, but you seem to be ignorant of something deep, and all you want to know is to feel loved.
So does everyone else.
So do I.
But I don't ask it. I only accept it, because I already know it deep inside my heart. Despite all these overused thrashes of phrases so innocent and seemingly heartwarming. Besides all that, I know they care for me.
I don't need to hear it.
I wish I didn't need to hear it more.
But this is for you anyway, because you need it.
I miss you.

LOL, Sarah.
Don't just say you miss me and never talk to me again. Don't lie to me like that.

A Dedication.

2010-01-07T16:15:00.002+11:00

LOL, Sarah.

Come Back...?

2010-01-06T21:44:00.002+11:00

i mit you ban.

---
As much as my body willed me to let them go, I refused to let the tears escape from my eyes. Memories flooded over my pupils; I envisioned each and every face; the smiles and laughter fellowship brought, the scrunched noses as they stretched out of their comfort zones to the adventurous unknown of other interstaters, the twinkles in their eyes as they waved each other goodbye...

These tears filmed my eyes, and I stifled a cough, a choke of sadness as these memories resounded throughout the walls of my reminiscent heart. These instances reminded me of my prior anxiety/panic attacks due to stress... but this one rung deeper.
A different emotion surfaced.
Not stress nor worry.
Not pain nor sadness.
Only that secret joy of the greatest memoirs of a lifetime...
And only memories to keep it afresh.

I miss you all.

LOL, Sarah.

Consiliated Replenishment.

2010-01-01T15:30:00.005+11:00

I am so broken.

---
Luke 9:12-17 (NIV)

¹²Late in the afternoon the Twelve came to him and said, "Send the crowd away so they can go to the surrounding villages and countryside and find food and lodging, because we are in a remote place here."

¹³He replied, "You give them something to eat."

They answered, "We have only five loaves of bread and two fish—unless we go and buy food for all this crowd." ¹⁴(About five thousand men were there.)

But he said to his disciples, "Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each." ¹⁵The disciples did so, and everybody sat down. ¹⁶Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke them. Then he gave them to the disciples to set before the people. ¹⁷They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.

---
Just a few points within this passage that resonate to me.

- We fall short in that we think we are unable to do something because of the things we don't have, when in fact, God presents us with the little we have so that only HE can multiply it to address the needs for many.

- Jesus would never force us to do His will, but He calls us. He knows what little we have, and when we fall short and doubt, He's stepping in with the little that we have surrendered to Him.

- God has blessed us upon multitudes, and He breaks us. We need to be decreased so that as bread, He increases in us so we can feed the thousands.

LOL, Sarah.
He replied, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you. Luke 17:6

New Directions.

2010-01-01T15:18:00.003+11:00

Happy New Year all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIS1O02t_cU

Just as a reminder.

LOL, Sarah.

Sentiment.

2009-12-25T00:43:00.001+11:00

Merry Christmas all.

You all mean a bunch to me.

Saving Grace.

2009-12-24T10:41:00.006+11:00

Of course Christmas has become materialistic. It's been like that for a long while now; we've just been to young and too innocent to have it revealed to us; that the world has plastered up Christmas to protect the vulnerable from seeing a Love so perfect. We've matured enough to see now how materialistic Christmas really is. But that's only ever been for those who don't know about the grace that saved us all, even if we don't want it.

Christmas is not materialistic for those who earnestly long to show their loved ones God's love for them through an exchange of gifts.
Christmas is not materialistic when, in the hustle and bustle of everything, we remember the spirit of God which resides within us with an overflow of love.
Christmas is not materialistic for those who can still see the heart of a human child in an animal's trough.

Again, without Christmas, there are no gifts. And there would be no Love.

---
Some people can only get by knowing they're loved, and that constant ache to hear that they are... Why do we hold ourselves in such low esteem? Why do we want people to constantly prove that they're there for us?

Why do I need? =(

LOL, Sarah.

Fool's Paradise.

2009-12-22T00:19:00.003+11:00

Christmas weeeeeeek!

---
You with those sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Though I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can loose sight of it
And the darkness inside you makes you feel so small

But I see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors
That's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors, true colors
Are beautiful like a rainbow

Show me your smile
Don't be unhappy
Can't remember when
I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
Just call me up because you know I'll be there

And I see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors
That's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors, true colors
Are beautiful
Like a rainbow

You're beautiful
I see your true colors
Just remember
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
Just call me up because you know I'll be there

And I see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors
That's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors, true colors
Are beautiful
Beautiful
Like a rainbow

LOL, Sarah.
I'd give anything to see you smile again.

Reason For The Season.

2009-12-18T23:25:00.004+11:00

Why is it that I feel so unsettled? Spurts of anger, like fireworks arrayed in the black-blue night, shooting across with a glamorous repetition of shock and awe. Patterns arched over the sky; although expected, these lights dazzled the hearts of many, especially mine. How could my fiery heart bring so much wonder and astonishment?

Well, at least fireworks spark only on significant occasions.

---
It's as if we're waiting for it to dawn upon us... as inevitable as the rising of the sun, and yet still, It seems that Christmas has come at a later time than usual. Here I am, sitting in my mildly renovated room with just 5 days before Christmas. Five days... wow. Christmas has pretty much tripped me over this year and taken me by a complete surprise.

---
Maybe it was the Christmas Spirit that I was aching for... a shred of hope in the midst of the murky, shrouded cascading waters; the bustle of buying gifts, organising dates, holiday homework and preparations for the conference in only one week.

And the Spirit of giving is what I found; the ultimate gift that is simply incomparable to anything else.

The gift of Love.

Without Christmas, there would be no gifts... and so much more, there would be no Love. Just hurt.

Have a merry CHRISTmas week!

Lots Of Love, Sarah.
The sections mark that I've written on 3 different days :P I'm so lazy nowadays...

All About Love.

2009-12-17T00:16:00.007+11:00

There is a sudden ring of hope, the moment I heard you say - no, it wasn't the three words, it was a phrase comprised of two different words. Two words that so gracefully fell from your lips to the corners of my ear. You retreated from your hug, and I was left there, stunned at what you said.

Two words that meant so much to me.
Two words that no one could take away.
Two words that I probably needed to hear the most... and yet I couldn't muster up the strength to say back.

And yet, is it so selfish to hear someone say this?
You mean more to me than you can imagine.
---
Lust is the physical attraction, whereas love is when the feeling is stripped away, and best friendship remains.

---

“If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.”

I finally understand it. Whoever said it was so right...
But it could never stop you from loving them.

Selfless love.

---
I wish I could help.

LOL, Sarah.
Bleh sorry lame post.

Ardent Adoration.

2009-12-13T22:08:00.002+11:00

So. I haven't posted in a while ):

Our similarities are oceans apart, but that doesn't cease our best friendship.

LOL, Sarah.
I'll be back... maybe sooner, maybe later.

Dilatory Meander.

2009-12-09T23:51:00.003+11:00

Icebergs.
Drift close, drift far...
So free in the ocean wide horizon.

---
The first crack showed in the snowy blanket; a tiny splinter to one's short-sided vision. But walk on...

A large blizzardlike crevasse extended from that minuscule splinter; a trench with a seemingly endless bottom, almost sending sight's senses itself to a pit of black. The edges of either side of the crevasse crumble incessantly, mimicking the consequences of even the most minor of vibrations. A simple breath in the cold, a whisper into the musky air would send a few helpless rocks into the trench, with no avail to even hear of their landing.

The trench's end was almost indeterminate. At the very edge of the horizon, the ice seemed to part completely horizontally, and was met by a deep azure. Further than that, glimpses of tiny, white dots seemed to float about the horizon, each going in every different direction, as if to purposely steer away from shards formerly their own...

A tiny crack in the ice can make all the difference.

It is so unlike the platelets streaming through our blood as they pulse heatedly through our vessels. At the first exposure to the air we breathe, the tiny cells clump together unwittingly, each combining to strengthen a wall to stop an overflow of blood. How cunning it is that it is within our best interests to subconsciously stop bleeding, and yet in the oppression of life's deafening reality as a body, we seem to distance ourselves from each other so advertently as to protect ourselves singularly, instead of all of ourselves.

---
Could I imagine enough that an answer, formidable as it may be, would float down like a diminishing cloud into my hands? Could it explain the countless questions and frazzling indictments which have been thrusted into my turn of this sequence of events?

If only I could believe so, I would work a way then to fight against this natural occurence of consequence after consequence.

So just why is it, that we drift? And why is the present always more painful than the past, as possibly an inkling of foreseeable damage in the future?

Sure, we're human, but even our own body works each body part so cunningly together to rescue us from our rue.

LOL, Sarah.
And yet, still, the environment could never be more beautiful... even in its dying days.

Irrevocable Extrication.

2009-12-08T21:17:00.006+11:00

Must John Mayer be so hot?

---
Swimming in deeper waters... As treacherous as they may be, I will wade myself there and back to safety, because I have you in my arms and I'm desperate to see you wake, just so that I can see you smile warmly once more; a warming, heartfelt upturn of the corners of your lips juxtaposed against the cold, deathly touch of your pale skin. Although, I would not dare to fight for your life, not without your response and permission to; that you would be fighting alongside me. Still. I am a soldier in the front lines, awaiting your command to fire, attack, or fallback.

But really, all I wanted to hear was the sound of your voice.

---
I guess every gift should have a ribbon around it.
Whether thick, thin, satin or paper,
It enhances the beauty of a present.

Pull just one end, and the entire strong comes undone,
Or hold it at the cross-section,
And lift it like a burden off your heart.

Perhaps the decor is just for laughs, for looks.
But no one can fathom how simple it is to remove
Nor how it can cradle the entire present in its arms...

We're all a gift, either opened up or set aside.
You can always set the ribbon loose, as long as you know how to...
Only then can you discover its true contents within.

So it's not really about the ribbon at all.
Decor is fancy,
But inside counts most.

LOL, Sarah.
Borrowed a friend's style of writing... to an extent.

Bum Chums.

2009-12-03T23:11:00.003+11:00

What you're going through, I honestly don't know if I understand. I wish there was something I could do, something that I could say to you to lift your spirits. I would do what I can to encourage you, to lighten your heavy burden. But I search as much as I can, and I can find nothing to pull together and wrap you around in love.

I wish to find such words that would comfort you, cradle you in their warmth and in their assurance. However, my senseless mind can barely conceive your heartache and your pain, and anything I choose to say would be placed as a burden rather than that of doves lifting you to the clouds as you rest in sadness. I wish I could pillow your head with a gentle phrase, cover you with the love that was so carelessly torn away from you.

I have leant you my shoulder, but I fear my reckless tongue I cannot subdue, as I long to pour out only words you need to hear. I don't wish to hurt you more than you are bearing... and I am not tame enough to do otherwise.

You're my best friend... And I am at a loss of words and of ability to stir up even a smile across your face, even just for the shortest amount of time.

I fear what I have done has been damaging... but I don't want to give up on you.

And I guess finally, I just want to tell you how much I love you.. how much I worry and care for you. My concerns for your best interests have been with you since the beginning, and I'd only wished for your eternal happiness, with or without me. I've never been more proud to have a best friend, and would never accept another best friend other than you. I can't imagine life without you as my best friend... I love you so much. I just wish I were always there for you, with all the right words to say, the words you need to hear, and the words that sooth your sore heart.

I pray for your happiness. And I pinky promise you, I will stand by you as much and as long as humanly possible.

LOL, Sarah.
Make a wish, love.

Taking Chances.

2009-12-02T22:20:00.005+11:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5EC6wY1Da8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=av8_Q_6xZ-Y&feature=related

gLee has great songs.

LOL, Sarah.

Heaven's Tears.

2009-11-29T20:41:00.007+11:00

You know you love John Mayer when you've listened to a song for the tenth time, and yet it still gives you shivers.

---
I looked up at the window...

... And I saw the heavenly pearls form.

The earth seemed to moan at the deprivation of warmth, and the clouds in turn cried in despair, fastening their grip on the skies, each bellow heavier than its last.

Tiny beads of silver crept together in deep, magnetic attraction, swooning in circles as they accumulated. Like jewels, they glistened in the scarce rays of the sun as it searched for peepholes within the blankets of grey.

Millions of minuscule sparkles were sprayed across the surface of the glass, clustering together to create large, clear pearls; so smooth, round and perfect. The pearls rolled towards the edges of the glass in eager competition, as directed by a force of gale winds, gathering small, singular droplets along the way.

---
And when things like this happen, you can't help but to barrack for the fastest droplet.. haha.

I still see a glimpse of heaven, no matter where I go.

LOL, Sarah.
Sorry about my lame posts... I really have not been inspired lately.

Merely Discrepant.

2009-11-27T22:33:00.006+11:00

I gots myself a Gollywog.

Shut up. I know I'm weird. But everone's different.

---
I used to be so attached. Once attached, any kind of removal of me would be like a removal of a part of me. But I soon realised that removal was inevitable.
So I cut myself off from all appendages in hopes to remove the destining pain. And so...
Now, I find myself almost impossibly receiving what I once was, and what had created me to become a thick, black whirlpool.
I've forgotten how to receive, and it seems to me that in doing so... I've forgotten how to give, too.

---
My heart and my head is too heavy for me to bear. I can barely think of words to say as to believe that nothing has affected me.

LOL, Sarah.
Sorry that I'm human.

Memoirs Of Elementary.

2009-11-26T17:19:00.006+11:00

Have you ever felt guilty for showering whilst it was raining outside?
Cos I have.

---
[In no particular order...]

- Hilton Thai and I used to roam on the school grounds, pretending to be dinosaurs.
- Nafiye Suleyman, who was my best friend for almost my entire Primary School life :) we used to stand in the doorways pretending to be trapped in a prison, and then we'd try to escape from it.. from no one :P
- Jesse Stafrace and I tried to bully each other by abusing each other's surnames, And I'd cry, and then later on we'd be friends again :]
- Aaron Santos denied my request to play four square, and I ran off like a little sulk. Haha I cried so much =3=. And Nafiye, I remember distinctly, preceded to say "Nice one! You hurt her feelings!" And ran after me.
- Benjamin Sortino, my only primary school crush... who everyone thought liked someone else. Does Mugambah Buhana from grade 4 ring any bells to you?
- Ashlee Polidano and Ben were the class couple in grade 5.. even though they weren't.. I don't think? :P
- Ashlee Marmara, my second best friend.
- Lisa Le, who I tried to convert in grade 3 by telling her to remember the crucifixion :| LOL!
- Linda Nguyen, who let me borrow a teddy on 'Bring Your Bear' Day.. or was it John? :O
- Chu Chen! Who had liked me for ages, and spoiled my last day by telling me that people were signing cards for me when I came back from my trumpet lesson.
- Tracy Tran, who showed me what a friendship book was... and also pressured me into liking Asian boys in grade 5... and I remember you saying "I hate it when people think I'm angry at them or greasing them when all I'm doing is squinting at the sun!"
- James Burke, who had a bit of a tummy and always acted like a goof :P
- John, who was always too shy to talk to me (and was and still is obsessed with Pokemon).
- Hoan Dang, who I thought was possibly the quietest kid in the world...
- Douglas Burgos, who always went up to me with John to get him to confess his feelings for me because John was to scared to do it himself :P
- Kathy Truong was taller than EVERYONE.. seriously everyone.
- Erold Dejito convinced me that before we get to heaven, Satan was going to ask us if we like the number 6, and if we did, we'd go to hell. LOL
- Huy Tran, who always smiled.. and was the first brace-face I knew :] so cute LOL
- Jay Amatya, who Mr. Elliot in grade 5 asked him what franchise meant.. and he was the only one who knew it. Everyone was amazed. Utterly amazed.

I do remember the last day of school, when we finished at 1:30, and we went over to Chu's house. We put in my new CD (I think someone gave it to me for a gift... was it you, Chu?) Bring Me To Life - Evanescence began to play, and Ben preceded to sing like a pansy. Of course, all guys sounded like girls then because they hadn't had their voices broken yet. And Chu tried to hit on me! LOL with the whole *yawn.. puts arm around shoulder* move.
And us and the rest of the boys had pizza :]
Best friends included: Nafiye, Ashlee, Linda, Tracy...

I was possibly the biggest tomboy, with an endless list of guys who we played downball for hours on end. Or at least until play time finished!
And I also remember:
- Lindita Demiri
- Hao Dang [ran into you a while ago...]
- Christopher Dealey
- Christopher Le
- Dilek Ozen
- Simon Vo [ran into you too... :]
- Andy Lieu
.. And people whose last names I don't remember D:
Comment if you remember any more :]

Miss you all,
LOL, Sarah.

Allusive Fervence.

2009-11-24T16:56:00.009+11:00

And so there I went again,
Repeatedly saying I'd never end up there.
And yet by a wave of a day's end,
I was once again wound up in the middle of nowhere.

--
Now, breathe easy, My suffering child,
Maybe you will see the glorious sunrise.
For the light may shed some mercy mild
And raise you to a cloud of peace to abide.

The rain has drenched your clothes
With drops of acid and crystal too harsh to bear.
But all of a sudden your Lover comes betrothed
With a rainbow of promise to show you He cares.

So forever you will soar
On mountains high and valleys low.
After jumping through Grace's door
And diving into a sky of freshly awakened hope.
--
The deepest darker dark cannot suppress
Me now, for You carry me on Your back.
I was Your cross of sin, burden, darkness
Vanquished and replaced, so that nothing but sin will I lack.

---
I was reading my set poems for my English exam, and studying became procrastinating.
And so now, here I am, presenting to you a result of my hesitating :]

And yes, that rhymed as well.

LOL, Sarah.

Balloonatic Contour.

2009-11-23T23:30:00.002+11:00

This is an introversion of my brain with all its bubbly wonders.

It really is all just a few items here and there; thoughts written as words, cartoons symbolizing a best friend, family, a future.

Fireworks that mark the implosions of the thoughts in my mind, and the waves that follow it.

Flora which stems up hope, or just the petals of which have no foundation whatsoever...

And a plagiarism of John Mayer's 'Heartbreak Warfare' icon, by which I could interpret as a heart halved by lightning at the roots of a love.

And a cloud, oh, how I wish to be spared aloft.

And in the corner is an inner conscience that doesn't understand any of it. Yes. My inner conscience is a man. Supposedly. It could be someone else. Something random... to keep my mind off it all.

And yes, you can click the picture.

LOL, Sarah.
On the back of this page is a series of drawings, and 2 sentences remained unfinished.

Hello.

2009-11-22T00:01:00.002+11:00

4our things that people absolutely must know about me, even if they knew nothing else.

1. I am obsessed with orange.
2. I am utterly in love with John Mayer.
3. I am amazed by corny one-liners, whether they be pick-up lines or lame jokes.
4. I am completely insane.

(:

LOL, Sarah.
Anh Jon Tran's primary school jacket... tehe.

Friends, Lovers or Nothing.

2009-11-21T00:35:00.002+11:00

66 minutes and 58 seconds of pure pleasure.

LOL, Sarah.

Rag Doll.

2009-11-18T23:45:00.006+11:00

I am your toy.
A smile pasted across my face so that you can share in the joy I portray.

Pull the string.
You will only hear words you want to hear; words that lift your spirit.

Make me walk.
You hold my hand, and you bounce me up and down the green grass, before hoisting me into your secret treehouse.

You talk to me.
You tell me about your day, and you whisper your deepest, darkest secrets into my flimsy ears in your secret hideout way above the ground.

You say you love me.
You hug me tight, and say that I'm yours forever; I'm your only best friend, the best in the whole wide world.

---
Years go by.
You brush the dust off my face, and a smile returns to you again as you reminisce your younger years with me. Again, you take me to your secret places, laugh at me as you hear me speak encouragement into your heart. You carry me on your shoulders as you climb up into your secret treehouse, and there, you hug me tight and say "I've missed you, old best friend". You see a bit of stuffing escape my frail body and my stitches come loose, and you caress my rugged hair lightly as you fix me up again.

And then you leave.
You pack me up, and put me away. You're older, and more mature; what I once was as a best friend to you is not what you needed now. You've found better things, new, modern things which make you laugh so much harder, and leave you with the broadest smile in the world. A smile which I have not seen before. A laugh which I have not heard before. A hurt, which I have not felt before...

"I love you, boy, you are by far the greatest best friend and boyfriend in the entire universe".

---
Torn, tossed around and thrown away.
I am a thing of the past, and you are too mature to wish to spend time with me anymore. You say that I'm childish, useless, and that I no longer satisfy your needs.

My cotton heart bleeds with wisps of stuffing, but you will never know.

LOL, Sarah.
This is an allegory.

Erm, Christianity.

2009-11-17T22:32:00.004+11:00

What we thought were once clouds are in fact the fumes we believe will sustain us till the end of time. What will become of the trees? Will the atmosphere be but a pool of black oil?

And here we are, gaping our mouths wide open to catch the stained acids of the sky; no longer will we drink the crystal drops of heaven, but the metal splinters of man's best treasures.

---
*sigh*, we're so human. I'm so human.

It's quite difficult being of a Christian family and within the church; people almost expect you to be stronger than you really are; to be the mighty men and women of God of who nothing can sway them or cause them to stumble. The ridiculous expectations thrust upon us; we must be perfect, we must abide by God's law, we must not swear, we must be picture perfect, we must be good little church boys and girls.

I'm afraid that I can't live up to these expectations. In fact, I doubt anyone can. We're not radical, almost-angels and more holy than anyone else. We're only human.

Did you know that most churches consist of so many "sinful" people? Liars, Drug-addicts, Cheaters, Thieves, Alcoholics, Sex offenders... the list goes on.

I think it's fair to say that just because we're a bunch of Christians, it doesn't mean that we're not any less guilty. In fact, strangely enough as it is, we know that we're wrong-doers, sinners, disgusting low-lives that don't fit the "Christlike" persona.

And it doesn't mean we don't feel the pain and suffering of harsh lives. The only difference is- we hope. We hope and we hope and we hope in a future of bigger plans for us; plans to prosper us and not to harm us.

I can see where the statement "Christianity is perhaps one of the most difficult lifestyles to undertake", because I know that when we don't have hope, Satan doesn't need to worry about us. We've got nothing, so he'll leave us alone. But when we hope, and we hope and we hope, he despises it. So much so that he'll do anything to cause us to stumble. He'll attack us personally, our family, our friends, our possessions...

And I suppose I understand that under the condition of God's love, if we are willing to go all out for Him, we've got to be prepared to sacrifice. Our families, our possessions- our lives even.

In Vietnam and Thailand, people really do sacrifice their families. They are shunned from their communities, beaten on a daily basis because they choose hope. Speak the name of Jesus in a rural area in a country like Vietnam, and you should prepare to be killed.

All because of hope, hope, hope. How lucky we are to be able to hope without stumbling over our family's lives.

And I'm not saying that I've got a hard lifestyle. I've got an easy one, actually, but I'm faced with human experience in a human body... I stumble, I fall. But I get back up again. I cry, I lose heart, and yes, even faith sometimes... but I hope.

You will stumble, you will fall. And maybe you will get back up again, or just accept that once you're down at the bottom, Satan won't worry about you because you have no future. Or you can hope, hope, hope, and stand on God's foundations, because God has a bigger plan for you.

LOL, Sarah.
Don't tell God how big your problem is, tell your problem how big your God is! - Ha, cheesy.

Suckling On Wires.

2009-11-16T19:26:00.005+11:00

What would happen if you woke up one day to suddenly realise that there were no longer any means of communication with me?

Because I'm no longer a cyber being.

---
How devastating it is to know that our relationships are now built on purely electronic words: lol, k, hru... just to name a few. We've degraded our language, and lowered our standards. Heck, my school's passing level is 35%, that's so lame. Haha.

But in saying all this, I relate myself to the grasp that today's society has on our daily functioning. Lacking MSN, especially in school days will only cause people to become socially outcast, not knowing the instant gossip that are spoon fed to us in every way possible to do with online communication.

And how we are so withdrawn from talking in person. See, here I am. I am a traditionalist; ie. I don't find online communications as a significant and necessary means for the survival of a friendship. Hence I don't rely on being on MSN nor Facebook to keep up to date with e.g my best friend, of whom I rarely speak to on MSN anyway. The biggest problem I have with these means of building up relationships is that it's so multi-faceted. People can so easily lie, pretend they're on top of the world when they're secretly drowning in despair. I know someone who talks to me on MSN like nothing's wrong, and yet can't bring a smile to their face whenever I pass them by. It's almost as if online communication is the new mask. Maybe we can finally read human expressionism through their behaviour. How I wish this to be true.

I guess that's my petty explanation of why it's so hard to maintain a good relationship with me. I almost despise MSN. I'm only online just in case; talking to only 2-3 people on a consistent level. I enjoy real communication, face-to-face... Not even talking on the phone cuts it. But it's become inevitable: social acceptability seems to have online communication as its top obligation and an absolute necessity as a social norm.

But has anyone else been feeling the torment of such a lack of a deeper relationship?

I guess not.

LOL, Sarah

School.

2009-11-15T23:33:00.003+11:00

Dear teachers:

This is my letter of concern to the academic progress of the up and coming students of my generation. I just would like to point out to you a serious flaw in the system, because we understand that none of you are impressed with our apathetic demeanor towards school. So, I'm writing to tell you what the majority of us are feeling about your disappointment.

Maybe we would take school more seriously if each year actually counted for something at the end of it. As in...
DON'T MAKE OUR FUTURE RELY ON THE RESULTS OF YEAR 12 ONLY. What happens if we had a bad year?

That's really it, I suppose. Everything suddenly relying on one year is just not fair. Not only is there no consistency, there's an overwhelming amount of pressure; poor study habits, and well, I know these are choices that we choose to make. However... what happens if we did awesome in one year but failed at the next? Or failed at the year before, but aced the next?

No consistency. That's all I'm saying.

LOL, Sarah.

Disquieted Exigency.

2009-11-12T22:39:00.004+11:00

This is so bloody beautiful, and soon to add is the latest album and shirt. Wooowoooo (:

---
I woke up unsettled this morning, and more tired than the night before. This feeling continued throughout majority of the morning; like a sickening, never 100% feeling that abstained from my body ever releasing energy into my muscles. My eyes welled up multiple times whenever I thought about anything; church, school, home. It was almost as if a negative presence was weighing me down, oppressing and squeezing out the emotions that I so neatly packed into a tiny box in the corner of my heart.

I almost choked at every conversation had, and I struggled to keep a clean composure; how I feared being weak and helpless in front of everyone. Possibly I feared their tension, their misunderstanding, their lack of care; although I know they support, they give concern and they love. Or perhaps I was so paranoid about being so insecure, so needy, and so vulnerable. They just didn't need my burdens.

Sometimes, I just need assurance...

Because it was all just stress before the exam. I don't need these downgrading thoughts that push me to the brink of sanity, where beyond this cliff lies the pits of paranoia. I just can't handle it all.

---
So yeah, a temporary goodbye unless I need a getaway from the study. I'm so scared for my Jesus exam! Jesus is with me! :D?

LOL, Sarah.

Bereavement Of Speculation.

2009-11-11T22:02:00.006+11:00

I always need a little bit of what could kill me.
That is, water.

---
I ventured out into the world on my own; the glints of light reflective of the sun upon the ocean surface stung at my eyes as waves curdled and the soft winds caused ripples in the water. I squinted as I examined the vast blue that was beyond me, saving my eyes from the acute particles that threatened to embed as crystals into my foggy eyes.

Waddle, waddle... I struggled to maintain momentum as I found myself wading through thick dunes of sand, which, magnified by the sun, reflected immense heat which stung and burned at my feet. I hopped and dwardled along, desiring so much simply to feel the rush of cool water lapping against my stubby legs.

But the shore was so far away, and clouds began to muster up their heaviest sighs. They grumbled in chagrin, and overthrew the sun's eminence with their own howling billows. Drizzles turned into rain, and whistles turned into whips as the storm began its melancholic dance.

I am too slow.

There were dangerous times ahead, and it was only reasonable to retreat. Within this shell, where everything within is so intensely personal, and can only be seen by a single person, every secret hidden in every crease and crack, shadowed by the distant light of the outside world.

I am secure here. I am safe from the pelting rain over my shelter, the icy cubes that knocked on my roof. From the slice-and-dice play of the wind and sand duet, I can recollect my thoughts and abandon my journey until it is clear.

But I am lonely.

Sheltered in a shell, and moving so dreadfully slow that as I climb, I feel like I'm falling rather than hiking.

I am owning the characteristics of a turtle.

---
Dreadfully sick, it's horrid. Handkerchiefs are so stupid.

LOL, Sarah.
And Amy, the the lyrics are the video's song!

Everything.

2009-11-10T22:12:00.006+11:00

Find me here,
And speak to me.
I want to feel you,
I need to hear you.
You are the light,
That is leading me,
To the place where,
I find peace again.

You are the strength,
That keeps me walking.
You are the hope,
That keeps me trusting.
You are the life to my soul.
You are my purpose.
You're everything.

And how can I,
Stand here with you,
And not be moved by you?
Would you tell me,
How could it be,
Any better than this?

You calm the storms.
You give me rest.
You hold me in your hands.
You won't let me fall.

You steal my heart,
And you take my breath away.
Would you take me in?
Would you take me deeper now?

And how can I,
Stand here with you,
And not be moved by you?
Would you tell me,
How could it be,
Any better than this?

Cause you're all I want,
You're all I need,
You're everything.
Everything.

---
How could it be any better than this?

LOL, Sarah.
I cried. Again.

The Heartbeat Momentum.

2009-11-09T23:12:00.004+11:00

Little moments that made me smile today:
- Realising I was the eldest in the whole school, and being the only one to hold the "Doey" legacy lol (:
- Kathy's Phamily haha
- Getting the yay from Ms Old for our secret plans to unfold... not so secret anymore :P
- Getting on the airconditioned bus to get away from the sweltering heat of which I melted into sweat. Yuckies.
- Finally resting at Gloria Jeans with an Arnott's Tim Tam Iced Chocolate... that was grand.
- Assembling a McDonald's toy the wrong way around, and thus making it look quite rude lol. This was totally unintentional. (:
- Getting John Mayer's discography (except for his latest) as hard copies.
- Seeing Linda and Phillip (:
- Getting my 'Where The Light Is' DVD back. *sigh*, John Mayer live... I've missed you.
- Going to gym... and walking on wobbly legs. Satisfaction in hard work (:

My heart skips a beat for everytime God gives me a reason to smile.

Yes, I did study today. Practice exam paper and a chapter of Psychology. Woot for the test tomorrow. Will explain the meaning of 'sheltered in a shell' and 'characteristics of a turtle' in the very near future. It's nearing any minute now!

My legs are sore... totally not looking forward to the pain of tomorrow... lol.

LOL, Sarah.
"H is for Hello... A is for Adorable.... P is for Pretty.... P is for Princess... and Y is for You. OOOOERS! alot of thought was put into that!" - Gorby (:

Movie Treats.

2009-11-07T23:56:00.004+11:00

The clouds were drawn towards the horizon in a hazy, soft manner. They were distant; harmless, and yet they captivated me through their beauty. I looked onwards as I saw them aloft, colliding in harmony with the sky scrapers; they looked like popcorn so heavily stuffed into its box that it caved in, overflowing with puffs of yellow and white. But the clouds maintained their clumped, sharp shape as they floated in the distance.

You can't help but wonder to yourself what the weather's like where the clouds are... Is it raining? Is it overcast? Is there a heaven-sent sign dawning upon them after a light drizzle?

Two hours later.

As I elevated my eyes towards the pale blue dome that encompassed the atmosphere once again, I found the clouds dispersed from their clumped heap of popcorn-like forms. As they began to stretch across the horizon, the glints off the edges of the clouds began to fade into the soft azure, and the popcorn clouds melted into bundles of white, fluffy fairy-floss which hung across the sky.

And I realised just this: clouds in the distance look a lot more like popcorn, and as they draw near, they tend to soften and become like fairy floss... I think I resort to food too much.

Another two hours later...

The clouds had overcome, but the sun shone brightly, reminding me instantly of the silver lining beyond each grey. A soft haze began to encompass the horizon and met the sun in its descent, with a pale blue carrying the clouds in every direction, like patches of black on a dalmatian puppy which disperse as it ages.

And it was now that I decided to take a momentous picture, because I will never cease to be amazed at their simplicity; the wisps of white that, by the imagination, creates such colourful pictures within our minds, and although with them, they bring along rain... there's a lining, and it's silver among every cloud, and a promise that follows soon after (:

I love nature. I love clouds, animals, flora, fauna... but I hate water. o.O

---
I don't really understand the look you give me; in anger, spite, or in desperation. But I don't want to face your facade. I would rather face nothing.

LOL, Sarah.

Necessitate Satisfaction.

2009-11-06T23:27:00.005+11:00

Featuring: The best friend. This is probably the most normal out of our collection. Gotta love MAC Photo Booths. (:

Happy 200th called for a layout change and a new photo. I feel refreshed now (:

... Although, I'm fairly tired.

I really want to do that 365 photo thing. New Year's Resolution! :) Now I can stop stealing amazing photos from DeviantArt tehe.

Been craving to go to Highpoint for so long now... I feel so satisfied ^^ Thanks daddy. Probably will not be doing anymore shopping for the rest of the year ):

I wanted to write about clouds, but I'll probably do that tomorrow. In the mean time, I shleep (:.

Happy 200th, I hope it's all been worthwhile. (:

LOL, Sarah.
Yes, I love complex headings with simplistic contents.

Staggering Denouement.

2009-11-05T20:58:00.008+11:00

This is officially the 199th posted blog. It feels good. I love the awkward feel of borderlining 200, but not counting that number as important. (;

I think I'm the only one who's read all of my blogs so far. Cool stuff!

... And my blog tells me I have 205 posts. It's so unreliable -.-"

Anyway. Hello.

---
"One, two, three, four..."

I mumbled numbers under my breath as I counted each crevasse and bump whilst running my fingers over the rough surface. From time to time, my fingers would dip into a crack, and follow the wooden trench along as it arched along the awkwardly shaped dome. The natural carvings within the wood were covered in sharp needles of bark, attempting to graze and splinter at the tips of my fingers, but my index dodged the traps as it continued to glide over the stump, and I continued to count the rings; the memories that the tree once had.

It once stood so tall, so majestic and strong. No one would have thought it would falter; it could not be swayed, nor could it move from its place. The tree stood with the deepest of roots and the strongest of foundations. Its branches were lavished with brilliant, deep greens, its leaves bursting with life and animation as they rustled in the gentle cradle of the wind. Bright, vivacious colour livened the branches further as plumps of red fruit extended from the smaller branches, dangling in the face of danger at the tree's subtle swings from side to side.

The tree was fruitful, bursting with life, and remained so strong, that even when gusts whipped and sliced at its trunk, it would stand its ground, its leaves fluttering about and its fruit following suit. There was nothing that could move this tree.

So what happened? It wouldn't be swayed, it wouldn't falter, but there is nothing left but a stump. Its deepest roots and most steadfast of foundations have lost its purpose, and the strong, majestic trunk, followed by its delightful branches once filled with life have now disappeared. No one could any longer boast of this mighty tree, because it was gone. It didn't even stand a chance against the jagged teeth of man's new best friend: technology.

The powers of nature and environment may not have swayed us for all this time, and for sure, I was convinced that we would hold for years to come. But who could foresee the cruel death of this tree by the hands of man?

... And of all hands, yours?

---
Did you know that...
The term web was coined because the internet is like a spider's web, all intertwined and connected?
And blogging was coined because of the nature of logging your account onto the web - thus web logging?

Oh, the fascinations of the simple things. :)

LOL, Sarah.
Please click on the picture, it oozes of majesty.

Chocolate Intervention.

2009-11-03T22:12:00.007+11:00

Is it habit that I don't post on the first of each month anymore? o.O

For now, I just feel... fine.

So, I'm sorry that things aren't working out. I just don't think I can handle another best friend, not after last time.

---
So badly, I want to be exposed. Like a chocolate fountain, thick with rich yet secretive ingredients, and yet poured out for the world to see and savour. Yet no one will ever know just how delicate this chocolate is until they take a strawberry and dip it in. Even so, the strawberry distills the taste. It hides away the true identity of its companion.

Or perhaps my fountain is lackluster... dull. Chocolate never shone brightly, nor sparkled as it dripped so smoothly from platform to platform. It would not be able to provide with delightful entertainment that water fountains may, nor could it rush like a violent stream down the sides of the fondue.

So yes, it was lackluster. Perhaps uninteresting... but it maintained some kind of mysteriousness, by which no one knew whether it was too chocolatey, sugary, or too plain as it looked. And even so, it would still dazzle me.

I cower at anyone who dares to try and discover my taste. Their sudden authority to tip me out and leave me to clog the drain... It scares me deeply, because I don't want to give up. Not just yet. I may be in the drain, but I resist being washed away by the streams of water trembling down...

---
Even so, maybe I want to share.

To enjoy the honey that trickled towards the surface of my lips, and the warm ooze of banana as it melted in my mouth. The fluffy blanket of freshly heated batter tore so easily as I passed the knife through it, and cream dribbled delicately from its soft crevasses. As I placed the treat into my mouth, my heart almost swooned at the rich, creamy texture of the crepe. With haste, I scooped a small amount of ice-cream and dipped the spoon into my mouth, its chilly sensation tingled at the tip of my tongue as the textures enveloped in the cages of my teeth.

This sweet, sober moment was to be savoured...

---
But never alone. I wish it was never.

LOL, Sarah.

Hazard Signs.

2009-10-31T00:15:00.004+11:00

So it seems that I can't keep my promises in the blogging world...

Saying we makes me feel better, because maybe others feel the same way.

---
But everything is stuck. Stopped in its tracks. Like a car with its tire dipped in a deep pot hole filled with sticky mud, a log hinged between the wheels of a train, or a jet trying to achieve lift off, but its engine is choked by unfamiliar matter.

Stuck, and hazardously stuck, like a car accident which causes an inconvenience to those trying to go about their daily lives. That ambulances, fire brigades, and other authorities of service are needed because of our troublesome, messy selves. We're the inconvenient mess they have to clean up when we're scattered and so numb in shock at the situation we've caused, all because of our ignorance and selfish greed.

Yes, we're a wreck at times. We get help, and surely afterward, we're armoured with new equipment to prepare us for a similar situation. We have a newer, sturdier helmet, because those collisions almost gave us serious head-damages. We're ready again soon enough, with the foothold of others.

We just can't do it by ourselves.

---
I tire of this. I felt the biggest fake today, and I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth again. I am horrified.

But I have so many blessings... I of all people should not be one to complain. I am blessed.

LOL, Sarah.
I like finding pretty photos, it makes me happy.

A Tremour Of Sentiment.

2009-10-28T16:14:00.005+11:00

The long awaited. The highly anticipated. The new exhilaration following this heart-felt warming sensation.

---
Trying to slow the motions of time down.

Afraid to close my eyes, because my dreams will steal away what I could so willfully use.

Conscious of communications, in case I get carried off into a world that dismisses the thoughts of time.

Reluctant to move an inch, knowing that every contraction, every reflex, every tension, steals a moment that can never be taken back.

I could stare at the clock, watching as the repetitious arrows encircle its centre, inevitably winding closer to my deadline meet.

So scared to have an inkling of fun... because they say that time flies when you're having fun. Motionless, I would stare at the clock. It's fairly relaxing; I like relaxing... It's fun.

But there's an impossible loophole to my theory of slowing down time. The definite strokes of the clocks are undeniable; unstoppable. I'm in a losing battle...

---
Have you ever noticed?
How the soft rumbles of your heart can only be heard at a standstill; in an almost-silence occasion where we do nothing but halt our fidgeting bodies.

I can't help but think about the murmuring of our hearts; how they echo through the halls of our arteries; its steady beating bringing a soft momentum the subtlest of reverberations throughout our bodies. How, as we lie in darkness, listening to the sounds of the clock ticking ever so nonchalantly; the winds cooing as they return with the life of wings- creatures of the sky huddling within their nests, protecting their newborns - the cooling hum of the refrigerator in its dutiful maintenance of keep; the soft snores from neighbouring rooms, or from outside, where a single dog nestles in the comfort of his own house...

... That our fingers softly, unconsciously drum on the sheets, our toes twitch at the slightest just under the doona, and that each hair on our head rustles softly as it finds a new place to settle. As we are at a standstill, our heart beats at its loudest, still working strenuously and tirelessly to keep us alive, even as we sleep.

And once more, our hearts thud in our ears after an adrenaline rush. Amidst the journey, we can only focus on the destination at hand, but we fall across the finish line, exasperated, and all we can hear is the sound of our heart, still working, so earnestly and diligently to relax our aching bodies. Only once we've stopped ourselves can we hear the sacred sound of a heart so worn, so exhausted, and yet in our tribulation, our hearts beat at their loudest to let us know that we're still alive.

They haven't given up on us just yet.

LOL, Sarah.