1 year

I haven't been writing for over a year. Actually it's been exactly 1 year if I look at the date, I just realized. I wonder how I am suddenly feeling the urge to write just today.

I'm writing because these are words I cannot express otherwise, this would be a silly conversation topic to walk up to anyone and start talking about. I'm writing because this is how I control myself.

I have recently come across a story. A true story.
It tells of five best friends and colleagues, who worked together everyday for years and one day were separated. It was hard and all they seem to want is to get back together again. I must admit this is not relevant in any other industry / companies except theirs. You move companies and there's nothing wrong with that, you can still see each other and talk to each other. Not them, though.

I find myself crying for their pain, which is clearly visible in the video. At the same time, they remind me of my own life and perhaps that is why it hurts me too. The friends I've left behind, the loves that were lost, the space that has come between us. This is what I feel too. It is not easy to forget. It has been years and I still haven't forget. I dream, and they are painful dreams. Saving relationships are like trying to guard your sandcastle from the coming tide. You feel it's slipping free of your fingers. You try to build another one, each time you have less time, and the castle never got as tall as the previous one. Until one day you are left with nothing but grains of sand and the memories of the castle you once had.

Sometimes, to some, we talk meaningless things. Anything but the most important things.

I can remember the time when I resigned my job to move away. I cried myself tearless. Now I look back and sometimes I shiver at how childish it was, I can't even bear replaying it in my head. People must have thought me so immature. Whoever cried so much when they resign? Yet perhaps I'd do it all over again. Because that was my sincerity, that was my feeling, my attachment to the people around me.

I also remembered when she left me. I keep replaying the scenes and thinking what could I have said that prevented her from going. What could I have fixed.

The thing is, there will never be closure, especially when someone just closed the door on your face and you have no way to sort out things or any second chances.

I hoped they will all 5 come back together again. I hoped that myself and hims and hers will go back to the way we used to be. It won't happen. It doesn't seem to be happening. You're left with a wound in the heart that wouldn't close but instead waiting for the heart to come back.

This is still who I am. I am still waiting. And to you, if you are reading, I will still be there for you when you need me.


As for the story, if you are interested, just listen to this song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ak4gz01N_k and perhaps you will understand.

"So, how're you going?" K asked. You called him K, because he refused to give his name. You never asked why.
"What do you think?" You spat back. You were not in a friendly mood. He should have left you alone.

You were thinking on joining your dad on his 'meetings' despite what your grandma's words. You figured it wasn't too late to change things. You thought you could change who you are, and who you're meant to be. Your brother had already joined a couple time, he has grown rebellious after his 'incident'. He seek every chance he get to make the guards suffer. He spat, threw his piss and other unthinkable stuff to guards he thinks deserved it, it was a miracle they haven't done anything more serious to him.

It was also the worst few days ever since you came there. The heat was strong, and there were no food left. The logistics somehow messed things up somewhere and for the past days the guards have been giving you scraps of their food. But for the last two days there was none. It seemed the guards themselves were at lost at what to do. Babies were wailing everywhere, your grandma and other elders were sick with dehydration and hunger. It wasn't just you, everyone was in their worst mood today.

Mrs. Green has a little girl. She was slight build and quite fragile. You know the girl has been sick ever since she came here. The girl was never strong, even before these all started. The little girl's been weaker and weaker ever since. She barely made any sound. Crying showed strength, but this girl only whimpers softly every now and then.

Needless to say, you avoided every chance you can to being alone with Marie. You can't run away from her in the nightmares though, they were always different but held the same message. She was screaming for help, and you turned your back and walked away. You think you're going to dream like this forever.

If Marie noticed you different, she didn't say anything. She seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, often lost. Often daydreaming, or were they nightmares like yours instead? She avoided drinking whenever possible, you supposed it was because she was too scared to go back in there except when absolutely necessary, and when she does go to the toilet she did it in rocket speed.

Before you can reconcile with your dreams of Marie, they've changed the game again. It seemed like months, but it has only been a few days since Marie's incident. There were rumors going on of rebellion coming up. There were men impatient about sitting and waiting for this condition to end. You know about it, but didn't join nor discuss it. Your father joined eventually and you warily look as he sometimes approach the other men and seemingly chatting casually. You know better though, because your father doesn't have that look when he chats casually. His face went tense and he would involuntarily raised his eyebrows every other second when he's nervous.

You were massaging your grandmother's leg when you saw your father and five other heads of families slowly approach each other. Seemingly without purpose, but definitely nearing towards one another. You stopped massaging and moved to follow but your grandma's hands gripped your wrists strongly. She pulled you in as she said,"I've gone through war before, did you know that?" I shook my head absently, still concentrating on my father.
"You, and me.. we are the same," suddenly grandma's voice grew stronger and you can't help but look at her. She was suddenly strong, and her eyes were bright.
"You and me, we are survivors. Do you know that? I know you as I know myself. The rest are brave men, they are heroes, and they will fight to death. But me, and you, we were born to survive."

Kewl

Kewl~!!!
New domain. Though a bit unnecessary since nobody read my blog anyway.
I'm thinking of stuff to create for my website.
If you got some ideas let me know :)

Not sure if I have time to make them though, between the clay, the job, and the household haha

The urge to create

I know I have been slack :P I've practically left the story and have not been able to get myself back to it.
I will though. It's just a matter of time before the heart urges me again.

On the other hand, I'm also trying new things. I've been forever admiring the sellers at etsy, I'm sure you know what that is. A creative bunch, even though mostly overpriced. I am just about dying to make something that looks professional enough for it to be commercial. A secret dream of someday having my own shop that may not be as busy as Woolworths, but a special gem.

However, those creative makers always have a distinct style, something I haven't found yet, and am continuously trying to.

Wish me luck :)