Name

And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away

Theres no turning back now the moment is upon me. I've said my goodbyes, seen the people i want to see, left some things for later. I'm not dead, merely dying. Tomorrow is a new day, a new start, a new something. In three more hours, i'd lose my freedom, and my right to be an individual.

And now we're grown up orphans
That never knew their names
We don't belong to no one
That's a shame
But if you could hide beside me
Maybe for a while
And I won't tell no one your name

Everybody keeps saying, everybody has to do it, some kinds of right of passage. The night before is usually like this, lying in bed, cant decide if i want to get out of bed, because its the last of my bed i'll be seeing for awhile. I have knots in my stomach, been unable to eat for a the last few days, and my head was spinning. I guess i decided to do the only thing that would calm me down, sit and type away.

And I won't tell em your name

God knows how i'm going to keep a low profile, its never worked before. Me and my markable face, so prone to smiling at wrong times. My love for comic irony will not get me far in the army. The parts of me that just want to sit down and laugh at every unexpected shitty situation that comes my way will not endear me to most people who dont really understand the finer ironies of life. I can almost hear the who the fuck said you can laugh, who gave you permission to be happy. Somehow i just dont think i'll be me for much longer, maybe an older, more seasoned (in the asshole) me. Just dont tell anyone who i am and i might be able to keep some of it.

Scars are souvenirs you never lose
The past is never far
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there
Did you get to be a star
And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are

I havent felt this down for awhile, and i havent even started. Before the people i loved were just a phone call away. Now the smiles seem miles away. On the bright side i get a rifle, on the down side, i'd probably be to chicken shit to use it. I've thought about the day when they give me a rifle with live rounds for quite awhile. Why do i have to protect my fucking country when my country wont protect me. Why should i give a shit about my country when my world is falling apart. I dont know, *click*, *bang*, you're dead.

You grew up way too fast
And now there's nothing to believe
And reruns all become our history
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell em your name

As much as i think i've said what i wanted to, theres these ton of lost letters for people who just arent here anymore. Well they are, just not the person they were written for. 730 days more then i can do what the fuck i want, that 17, 520 hours, and over a million seconds. Some seconds last eternity, and i guess in a million there might be 2 or 3 that would. So i guess the time doesn't matter, its the eternal seconds that do.

I think about you all the time
But I don't need the same
It's lonely where you are come back down
And I won't tell em your name

I lost the point to all this. I wanted to say, i love you. One last time, that 16 year old i dont give a fuck what the world cares, i dont care how impossible forever sounds, i dont give a damm if you're worth it or not. That youthful, i know everything, egotistical, you dont know the truth of this like i do, i love you. I wanted to one last time before i had to wake up my ideas, and consider the floor a worthy lover to take. Then came the buts, that i never noticed before, the way age, and times teach you to second guess everything, and i just didnt know anymore.

5 stages of grief

I watch someone die as i once did. I i tell them as a friend i will help them do whatever they require. And shortly after i recgonise what a lie it is. He asks, "will you help me die", he tells me "I really believed this time".

I met him before all this. And he seemed alright i guess. Now i'm upset because i find it in me to care. Because i remember all those sleepless nights aeons ago, i remember hoping someone will come along and murder me. I remember the mood swings, i remember the madness, the complete and utter loss of my sense of self, the senseless mutterings, the most earnest and selfish prayer.

The lines from songs that held me together, like on my knees i think clearer, like please listen to me while i tell you the truth, like wait, they dont love you like i love you, like i have 30 days to decide, like are you happy with yourself.

I remember the lines so isolated, he wrote this for me, do bad things, be angry, its not your fault, i love you. I remember going through everyone of the 5 stages of grief, each slowly, painfully, until i understood them perfectly, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, in such exquisite detail.

This is growing up. This is what it means to die. This is what it means to have your entire identity wiped from you, the price for carrying on living. Recgonising how worthless you are, i'm sure the army is somehow similar.

Oh where oh where, can my baby be, the lord took her away from me, so i got really upset

i want to say hi, but i'm not sure what i'd do after that. I miss you, so much, so much more than i'd care to admit. I'll be brainwashed soon, i may even forget what it means to care. I'm not sure if i'm happy about that, mixed feelings i guess, like so much in my life now. I feel like i'm walking a thin line, between what is and whats not.

I just wish i knew, maybe, i just wish i cared enough to know. I think its ironic i'm crying out so much and so hard because i want to be happy. And its doubly ironic that i dont want to be happy because it never really lasts, i dont want to deal with being let down.

I feel dumb, and completely reassured with being human. And that makes me, not sad.

On ifs and efs

You can never cross the same river twice. Some days, the thought of that seems newer than when i first thought long and hard about it. Both the river and you will be different. Paths may cross, but may never be taken together.

After finishing unbearable lightness of being, i've come to see how light everything is, how inconsequential. Maybe it was the timing of watching sex and philosophy that made the book easier to digest. Simpler, to digest, simpler, to understand, and the hardest part of all, to accept.

Always i wish i'd just have one more chance to re-do it, not different, but the chance to feel alive again. What i've never noticed is, i feel alive in different ways at different times. Which begs the question, what does feeling alive mean?

Lightness and weight was the question posed. Which was positive? It seems like a simple question, every child knows lightness is positive, probably through thinking that which is light floats, that which floats is higher, and that which is higher is positive. This complex chain of thought is something most people don't really consider, they go from a-b like a fast car.

The other thing brought up was eternal return. If something only hapens only once, it might as well have never happened at all. There are many ways we can look at this, but the one that makes the most sense is, it will never happen again, not in the same way, and it is part of our construct as creatures of time that we let our maker heal, time heals all, and in time, we find the courage to let go. Of both that second chance we're looking for, and the regret from (i wouldn't say mistakes, because mistakes imply the want to re-do differently) dificult choices.

We live and learn, the books i've read impact me differently everytime, the music i listen to slowly stops tugging at my frayed heart strings. The silent ticking of the clock however, changes everything, waiting for none of us, keeping us in the constant wonder of, "what if".



I havent been writing because as the days go by, i have less and less to say. I'm slowly learning to love and accept my solitary shell, the new reclusive, self preserving me. Like the words in Wish You Were Here, which i sang myself to sleep with many a lonesome night remind me, if you think you can tell, dont forget that you've become a dictionary for cliches, and a mind that thinks what everybody else wants you to.

In closing my eyes, going back to a time i was stronger, i find the heart to walk, from anything. I've relearnt what it means to not hold on, to walk, and dont look back, to pretend that you dont care long enough, so you eventually dont.

I've learnt to forget. A tip for those trying, drinking doesn't help. However, staring at the celing does. And as the memories pummel you each night, slowly their onslaught will come to a creep, the memories wont be as strong, and eventually you wont be sure what you remembered anymore. You wont be able to seperate fact from fiction, maybe because it only happened once, you have no other memory in the future or the past to compare it to. And it turns so sublime it fades into the background. Our memories slowly become the background noise of our lives, like on the radio when we were sure we heard something, but actually turned out to be something else. And you stop trying to fix your memories, to remain the way you put in your conscious, (because the sub-conscious and conscious are equally great and equally opposite and cannot remain on the same plane of thought), and you eventually stop keeping a place to store the memories that could have been.

I wonder how long more before i finally forget my own name, start drooling down my chin, old, withered, ugly, unloved, uncared for, tired, lonely, and come to terms with the idea that my life was just one big memory, and i was sleeping, because my emmories somehow follow dream logic, and now its time to wake up, and live the prophecy of my comatose wanderings.

And my heart is... out of order

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when your partner is patient and never willing to give up on you. You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy. You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something precious. You'll treasure marriage and treat it as sacred. In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Caring is Creepy

I think I'll go home and mull this over
Before I cram it down my throat
At long last it's crashed, the colossal mass
Has broken up into bits in my moat.

Lift the mattress off the floor
Walk the cramps off
Go meander in the cold
Hail to your dark skin
Hiding the fact you're dead again
Underneath the power lines seeking shade
Far above our heads are the icy heights that contain all reason

It's a luscious mix of words and tricks
That let us bet when you know we should fold
On rocks I dreamt of where we'd stepped
And the whole mess of roads we're now on.

Hold your glass up, hold it in
Never betray the way you've always known it is.
One day I'll be wondering how
I got so old just wondering how
I never got cold wearing nothing in the snow.

This is way beyond my remote concern
Of being condescending

All these squawking birds won't quit.
Building nothing, laying bricks.

Sometimes i wonder what is true, sometimes i wonder if it really matters

A million thoughts race through this thick skull of mine. Once again i think i'm almost done with this blog. I can put it behind, this wonderful place where i've learnt to throw all my rubbish into so i can be abit more sane when i do actually meet people.

The question that always bugs me is what do I want. Where am i going, and what will I do when i get there. I'd like to live life with a packed suitcase, always ready to move when I have to. I also picked things like love, the meaning to life, passion, to try and understand in my life, because these are the things that can never be answered, the questions that should keep me eternally occupied. And now i am starting to wonder if i'm bored of this. I probably am.

I wonder what I should do when my life has completely lost its focus, how do you go about fixing something when you've lost all reason to. Its simple to say put it together again, a little bit of glue, nail and a screw driver should fix it. But why make something that has no meaning anymore, sentimentality, because its all you knew, because its all you have?

We could all be better than this, we could all do better, but its just a matter of whether we have a reason to. My life has fallen apart, and i dont have enough of a reason to fix it, so i decided to live with a packed suitcase, or atleast i'm trying to. Call no place home, never let anyone shelter you, live for yourself, be hard, be cold, be ready to run when you have to. I'm getting used to this life, being where the wind blows, and letting go of everything, well almost everything.

Its like the Happy Prince, and U2's With or Without You, screaming and you give yourself away. How much can you give, how much is anyone deserving of your complete and utter scarifice. Sometimes i think, maybe i'll meet someone who i can give myself to, who i can be absolutely loyal and do anything for. I dont think anybody deserves that much from me, maybe now after everything, I think I deserve better, I think i have a right to be selfish, to ask and not give, to be and not belong.

Kundera asks, of lightness and weight, which is positive, of selflessness and selfishness, of good and evil, of all opposites, we have a percievd notion of what is positive and what connotes something negative. I think there is no positive and negative, i think there is, just what is. I feel nothing, and hence, suffer nothing for my existence. Living has gotten me so tired, sometimes i wonder if i'd be like Shadow, and ask for nothingness after i die, for the first time, i can understand why someone wouldn't want paradise and prefer vast nothingness instead.

If you would like to understand this, you must first wear yourself out and give yourself away until there is nothing left, and your body, heart and soul feel so fatigued, that you cant fight for anything you believe in anymore, you must be broken and damaged until as someone once put, even your own mother wont recgonise you, which sometimes i wonder if my mother sees in me the person she saw 1 year ago. You then need to lose everything that means something to you, and eventually conclude that nothing ever meant anything. You must also betray everything in your life because everything in your life has betrayed you, and then when there is nothing left, no ambition, no heart, no soul, so sense of your being in you anymore, and you are completely empty, you might understand that you both are one and the same, and the vast nothingness beckons and calls you, to rest from all the madness, and maybe you'd be safe from love, from faith, from hope, and redemption. You'd be safe from those things once so beautiful, colourful and entrancing that you thought were once the most wonderful things, but you found them to be like stumbling into a field of poppies. To a certain extent, the meaning to life is that it is meaningless, and empty, because God is dead, there is no more love. Maybe this is the cause of living in this generation, the generation of haves, of wants and needs, that when everything is so easily attainable, and you work your life, you work your heart, you work till you're ground to the bone for all these mass produced things, these things so commonplace, so meaningless, so unlike that spark of something unique you had in the beginning of your life, and now you're old, alone, and completely undistinguishable from the rest of those walking cadavers you hated once, so long ago.

Sometimes i feel like i'm not alive anymore, i crave the end. Once or twice people have made me happy in the last few months, so I avoid them. I dont really want to be happy or feel complete anymore. I almost dont want to feel that wanderlust that i did before, when everyday was an adventure. I almost dont want to fix myself and develop that carpe diem mentality. If anybody comes and changes this, they wont be saving me, they wont be making my life that much better, they'd just change one poison for another. Some days, i'm alright with this, i feel at peace, and i feel sometimes that i've made my peace with death. I can stop being afraid, i can stop hoping for change, i can stop hoping for tomorrow.