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Saturday, February 17, 2007

Encore

I am, again, trying to define myself… or at least a part of it. I don’t want to say “I love you” anymore. Enough. I no longer want to say such endearments unless the feeling itself grows too strong enough that not to say it would mean not being able to breathe. I hate it, hate it, hate it. So let the river take me away to where only “truth” can find me – the pure and unalterable kind.

I am again but floating away. I don’t know if I have to be thankful for my extended solitude. Perhaps it is for best, though for too long I have complained of always being on my own. Perhaps it is for best… because to suffer alone is better than to have to hurt others and have guilt further confound your pain.

I am again being blessed with promising friendships. I am thankful for them. However, I find that once more, “the sky will never be the same shade of blue again.” It will never be pure and innocent again, perhaps not ever. There will always be this silent fear that things won’t last as long as I wish it could. There will always be this awareness of the fragility and therefore preciousness of such moments, enough to tinge it with sadness. True, it could inspire me to just enjoy each moment as much as I could; to more freely express myself. But then, how easy can that be? Easy enough that most people do not know how....

Always, after every beautiful shared moment has come to pass, we are left with lingering memories. Sometimes we can not help but think of what have been, what could have been, and what could still be. We can not help but dwell on them, leading us sometimes to heightened expectations, various illusions, and sadly, bitter disappointments and frustrations too. To know the difference between fairy tales and reality does not always help. We always hope for the former without caring to prepare our hearts for the eventual consequence – the shattering of the myth.

Yet how strange… For even if that beautiful picture does get to be broken, the fragments still pervade and linger inside us, and still continue to color our perspectives. We continue to believe, to hope that there always is the possibility of things turning rosy no matter how dull and grey things already are at the moment. Such folly! And yet, at the same time, such strength! How come people never get too tired enough to give up their faith? Though it may be broken by momentary spells of cynicism, or it may never be as pure again as innocence as to make it blind, they eventually still wake up believing in romance and of course, in love, no matter how damning the world has made it to be.

Love. It remains to be our greatest challenge, especially now that it has been transformed by a very fickle and unfaithful world into a legend much greater than that of the Holy Grail, encompassing everything and yet sometimes, seeming to mean nothing really. And yet, how can we not live without it. It is our only hope.

It is my only hope. Yet how do I seek for it and be sure to find it? They say that I should just wait for it to find me because whatever I believe, it eventually would do so all in the right place and time. But young as I am, I am already tired of waiting. I have known it by many faces but never as the one made for me alone. I’m not sure if there is even one. It is so much easier to believe in nothing. Then my heart can be still. It will only beat for me, not for an unknown and unrealized someone who neither waits nor cares and who has only dreams and shadows to rival his reality.
kaigachi is a conjugation of the Japanese term "kigaicha" or crazy. It roughly translates as "crazy about something."

"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light but by making the darkness conscious." - C.Jung

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