Echoed Memoirs.

"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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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?