In Retrospect

Once upon a time, we heard a tale, which I shall translate here for your reading pleasure.

A young man uses his motorbike to go to work and to return home. Such is his daily routine...and because material things in this life don't last forever, one unfortunate day, he finds his motorbike in disrepair.

The narrator of this tale later enjoined us listeners to imagine how the young man must have felt at the time. One audience answered "Depressed" - or something to that effect - and the narrator rebutted with "Half-dead" (in verbatim, "Separuh mati!").

At the time, shallow that I was - or maybe just dead bored - I agreed. But after what happened yesterday, when my feathers were ruffled more than twice in rapid succession and my sleep disturbed (crankiness ensued), I had to ponder back...

...because sometimes we minorities don't get enough voice that we deserve.

More beyond this field of vision »

Gone

"I am lost without my Boswell" ~ Sherlock Holmes

At one point, it just disappeared.

God Knows how and when. Maybe not when...because I probably would not be so wrong if I were to put the date as around 1.5 years ago, when I took that leap forward into a new stage in this arena of life. In what is progress to others, it may be almost contrary in my own case.

As to the how...maybe I lost it, or maybe it's lost on me...Or maybe it was ripped away from my possession. It's kind of a slow process, nibbling on me little by little without even a sound to call attention upon its mischievous but all too devastating criminal activities...And I only started to be cognisant of the after-effects when the damage was overwhelmingly massive, that any hope of repair and thus return to the pre-morbid state is only a dream that is too difficult even to pursue.

It is beyond my recognition, much less my acceptance.

I had not the faintest idea that it would come to this. Like a nightmare that came true, except that the nightmare was actually forgotten prior to this.

This noxious bitterness, this repulsive amorality, this suicidal pessimism.

I rarely lose things, despite my lamentable (to some) habits. Yet the very things that I yearn to leave behind refuse to let go of me, to set me free from their evil clutches.

But one thing is for sure: I need to reclaim the things that I have lost, and time has not been kind to me.

While I wander aimlessly in the pitch darkness, time flies full speed ahead.

Tempus fugit.

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Now playing: L'Arc~en~Ciel - Kaze ni Kienai de
via FoxyTunes

*insert incoherent sounds here*

1. My seminar is totally screwing me up in more ways than one. Don't disturb me in my sleep, I beg of thee!

2. Sometimes, one has to know when to stop after saying something wrong. The probability that the next words would only worsen the situation is close to 100% - especially if one is not known for waddling his or her way out in the past.

3. Just zip it. It's as simple as that.

4. If I'm not making any sense, then blame it on this seminar. And that I'm still wide awake even at 1.48am because it's the _only_ time the Internet is accessible owing to reduced traffic. Argh. *headdesk*

5. ...Methinks I'm going to miss Dermatology when it ends.

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Now playing: Owl City - Fireflies
via FoxyTunes