One Cold Winter's Night...

I'm back here for 3 reasons. To seek out the clarity of mind that I seemed to have left here when I changed blogs, because people probably don't come here anymore, which is good because I'm tired of having people read and interpret what I write to their own means, and because I'm belittling life once again, death has returned to being an exclusive game.

And I am alive.

The reason for feeling utterly miserable is because 2008 turned out to be a complete farce. Everything I'd planned and hoped for did not happen. I've crawled alive outta a coupla scrapes, I've gotten decent grades, and all that did was to put me right where I left off from 2007. And the things and people I was so relieved and happy to get at the start of 2008 have all left me waiting for an entire year without ever showing up again.

I've been a fool, prancing around, thinking I made or was making some impact on people. I dunno which principles were misconstrued, I thought they were all the right things to have. I still do. But now I realise I've been playing myself out for a fool. And that the fundamentalism of who I am, who I had chosen to be, is that I am nothing to no one.

I've left a world at the desire and persuasion of someone who has left my world for a year now and never truly deciding to come back. I haven't found a new world that I thought I could truly be decent and accepted in for a whole year now. I'm lost in between all my worlds, just as it was in 2007, and amidst all the people's actions and veiled damnation at my fate, there really isn't anybody to blame but for myself. For believing. For always waiting. For thinking people don't change their minds and hearts about you that easily if you hold on steadfastly to who you are.

I'm thoroughly miserable because the song at this blog, Gortoz A Ran, means "I am waiting" in Breton. And I still am. Because I can't seem to pull away from staring at a night sky that shimmers with stars which I can never reach and might never see again. In a universe where even stars can die and flame out, only to be replaced by more the next night, how can someone hold on to continuity and wait for the same things to remain forever?

I thought there was a principled dignity in waiting. Now I see it was only emotions. And above all now, you have made me dishonourable. And still I wait. I am truly a failure. I am not who I was, and I am not who I want to be. I have changed, but it is not enough.

I have failed.

I moved. Changed blog.

Part of the reason why is explained at the new place.

But I guess this blog's last curtain call is to explain its part of the reason why I'm letting it go.

When I first set this place up 2 years ago, I was at the peak of my self-dissatisfaction. That period of time was too close to the last of my exploits and escapades for me to keep them only as fond memories, I was restless, yearned to move to the next big thing, and I knew very well that I could not.

So near from the last adrenaline rush, still channeling my hatred, with increased hatred at having nowhere to channel it to, death was an exclusive game, and I was alive. Physically handicapped but morbidly alive. I mused that the number of people who dislike life is probably an astronomical number but the number of people who truly want or dare to die dwindles down to quite a lot less. Life was stagnating, and nothing was going right.

2 years has turned out to be the reflective period to gain the street wisdom that was s'posed to come with my experiences but which the whirlwind vortex that I was, never slowed down before to think about. Times change, things change, but I don't. It was one of the rare times that this wasn't true. Many things have happened, some action, more injuries, more guilt, and now.. *derisive laugh*

If there's one thing I have learned from this saga, truly learned it, which I never could before because I was a different person last time and circumstances were much much different in the recent past, is that death is not an exclusive game. To die is simple. Easy. Much meaning is linked to life, but it is first and foremost weak and fragile.

But I've lived. I've learned. I'm still alive. Treasuring much, appreciating much, and much more willing to live, rather than survive. I'm still in type 2, but there is an edge to my focus now. Its lends a new form of strength.

The new blog has life in its name.

As I hope to still have it in my veins.

pandemonium* says:
i didnt say 'date' did i?
¿ ZзйVortex? Please don't tell me the trail leads to china.. Perkele. says:
you did
¿ ZзйVortex? Please don't tell me the trail leads to china.. Perkele. says:
and I dowan to burst your bubble but...
¿ ZзйVortex? Please don't tell me the trail leads to china.. Perkele. says:
ok is that enough to burst your bubble?
pandemonium* says:
yeah

I'm a great conversationalist when it comes to talking about girls. Oh yeah.

He's frigging high right now, and I have no idea why I'm entertaining him. I'm not s'posed to. Anyway how long has it been since I've felt the way he's feeling now about a *ahem* date (XD).. As always, in a past lifetime. I will always sound so old.

Speaking of another guy, I never thought him to be this bitter. Not about love in any case.

To say their lives are static, untested, is perhaps too harsh. That their lives have been shaped and tested by lesser problems would probably be more accurate. But it is all that they have experienced, nobody can blame them about how they're feeling. Declaring that they're weak does nothing does it. Its not entirely fair either, if given a choice again, you wudden want to lead such a life either, you'd rather be weak than face what has made you strong, rather not be made numb to your heart, rather not be faced with inevitable loneliness and live.

Let them mourn about their losses, its paramount for them to have what they term as love. The world would be a helluva place if it were filled with people like you and me anyway. It'll be much more real, more genuine, but yeah it wud be a helluva place. And lets face it, you'd rather have it too don't you..

I've thought it through sometime back, people like us should learn to count our blessings better for even being alive, rather than scorning others' sufferings. We might not know how to sympathise maybe, but we don't have to belittle them.

I wrote this for livejournal actually, where the number of people who read it probably can be counted on one hand. But I decided its cryptic enough to be put up here, and clear enough to explain what might be happening soon.

People don't understand the word 'ruthless'. They think it means being mean. Its not about being mean, its about seeing the bright clear line that leads from A to B. From motive to means. The line that goes from beginning to end.

Its about seeing the clear bright line, and not caring about anything else but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.

Other people's pity, sympathy, disapproval, love and hatred. All these juz messes with the vision of the straight line. They make you think things that you can't think about when you are seeing the line. They make you doubt many things, make you uncertain of how to save yourself. And yet when it comes down to it, other people are often unwilling or unable to do what it takes to save you either.

That's what it means to start to and stay in focus. The moment the bright, clear line is visible, once you've found a way to see it, its yours to lose if you don't hang onto it. And I cannot afford to lose.

Maybe I'll lose many people around me because what I'm doing now is to forget them all and turn all attention to the task at hand, only the people involved matter. Maybe I'll lose what little rights I have earned so far to care for and love people. Maybe this will change me fundamentally yet again, perhaps adversely, perhaps forever. Maybe people will privately tear me to shreds for being ruthless, coz they think I'm being mean. But I don't care. I can't care.

I'm seeing the bright, clear line.

And the last time I checked, my life's the only one on it.

In the last hour of my performance, before the joking, crapping, random personality gets thrown aside perhaps forever. Its one of those small things fate does to you. Now I will always remember one of the last things farah ever said to me. Do svidaniya. Goodbye in russian. I can't help thinking its very fitting.

Actually seeing and talking to tiak for the first time in.. oh forever, was actually quite phenomenal. I dunno why, there seemed something different about her. Something that juz made any words I had for her stuck in my throat. Or it could juz be me, looking worried is the least of my problems. When I look like I'm scared shitless, that's the time to start getting the joss sticks out.

I said no more stories. So what's up about today... I lived through it, that's what.

Zhi xian has nothing and wanderer on his playlist, I'm pretty sure I sent him those. Nobody likes that kinda songs very much, its heavy on the emotion but also on the energy. Its not the sit in a corner and hide kinda emo, its the explode until you use up all your energy and lie there kinda emo. Its like a war tragedy.

When people put that kinda songs up on on their blog playlist, it means they're outta love. They think this pain can sustain them to be a wanderer, that they'll be able to keep up the fury, the explosive energy, and use it to drive them away from love forever. No offence, old friend, but you should know better. This is not your reality.

People like certain songs for their own reasons and I'm perversely glad that in his unhappy state of mind, one of my oldest friends actually like some of my favourite songs enough to throw them up on his blog. But I haven't found someone else who really like these songs the way I do. Not to use them to fuel their emotions, but to use them to channel their emotions instead.

I think I'm juz over-analysing stuff. Who cares about the ethics of song-listening anyway, hell I'm stuck with 'N Sync right now. You ever see someone practice bladework while listening to thinking of you (I drive myself crazy)?

Edna playfully knocking loudly on the table to rouse me from my fitful doze in the middle of GP somehow made me very disgruntled. I heard the commotion so close to me, my senses, in confusion, blared at me to react instantly. But I couldn't.. I had no way of knowing what was going on just yet at that point of time but instinct didn't kick in. I opened my eyes a half-second later than I should and by the time my hand inched towards the buttoned front of my shirt to reach for my talisman, it was evident that I was in no danger.

I wondered if it was merely fatigue that forced my guard down. Or if I actually believed deep down that school, albeit unpleasant, presented itself as a sanctuary of sorts. After all its not meant to be a dangerous place, and I never believed in the whole adage about the safest place to hide is in the most dangerous place. Methodical people always investigate the most possible risks first. And then I got perhaps the most amazing revelation ever: that works equally well against me, I'm nothing if not methodical.

If you ever wanna be bored and scared at the same time, try sneaking into a warehouse, especially when you're conspicuous as hell in school uniform. The stupid school bag was particularly troublesome. I s'pose I shud be glad industrial areas close at 6.30, but patience was never a virtue I practiced rigorously. Its strange to be in a place whereby the last time you were there, it was welcoming, nothing to be worried about, and now you get a sense of forboding, being tense about threats from gawdknowswho and gawdknowswhere.

But know what? I found what I wanted. That makes this the last story to tell in this saga, on this blog.

It's in my heart; it's in your soul,
You choose to judge, is that your role?
Don't analyse or complicate,
You'll critisise, you can't relate.

And now you want some understanding.
What's my point of view?

Perhaps I've showed my fear too much, or perhaps I've actually spoken too little, not nearly enough to explain myself. Or maybe I was juz never given a chance to. But this ends now. No more justifications, no more pleading with people to accept my reality, no more explanations. No more stories on this blog, whatever happens from now juz happens. Things have rocketed past the stage where I get to keep people close to me. It hasn't been bad, actually, to see so many things that matter, to appreciate those who don't appreciate you. To see additional values to life. But this point forth, I think I can turn off the radio, coz there's not gonna be a wingman flying ten. No one to watch you do the Immelmann. No use speaking into the VHF until the very end.

Its time to focus yet again. No what-ifs, no past and future. This is now, the only time you get to live in. And I intend to live.

Every turn has its own vortex, take a step and you'll be shown another circle of life.

Full circle.