RSS Feed (xml)
Friday, March 26, 2010
The World that was...
“Where am I? What’s this place? It’s the same place but why is this like this? I recognize it but it feels like it’s not the same…”
It’s been a month and I hardly recognize what this place is. At first, I believed that it will be the same as always like when I was still in the Far East, that the only difference is the geographical location and its climate.
But I was gravely mistaken.
“We’ve changed,” an old man about 60 years old said. When he said these very words, I felt like what is left in this very soul of mine has been torn apart again. He was explaining something to someone but I didn’t care. I was trying to close my ears from every sound that is surrounding me. I just don’t want to feel my soul be torn apart more than it is now. It hurts.
In the Far East, in these kind of situations, I would have sent group messages to people, pestering them with my whines about how life is f*cking and messing me. Though some or should I say most of them wouldn’t care, having someone read it means a lot to me and makes me feel better even for just a day, an hour, a minute, or even a second. It feels like someone, at the very least, listened to my cries of pain and tried to understand me even though in reality, they really don’t. But as you can see, things are just not the same. No matter how f*cked up I become, there will be no one.
To tell the truth, I’m sick and tired of whining about everything. But most of the times, it’s the only thing that I can actually do. I’m always in situations where one wants to just die to stop the bleeding that one feels inside but oh well, the One above us all seems to not want to let me rest yet. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had enough suffering yet?
“I’m sorry,” said the old man after the long discussion. I’m wondering whether what the sorry is for and if he really meant it. Somehow it doesn’t feel he does. Well, who am I to judge him? I’m not God.
I wonder. When I said sorry to a certain girl, did she not believe me like the way I do not believe that old man? Had she had enough of me saying a bit too many sorry to a bit too many mistakes of mine?
I don’t really know.
I wish she was here. I miss the way how everything still feels it will be alright no matter how much it really isn’t.
I guess the “home” where I once felt is now burned to the ground and will forever be out of my sight.
It’s been a month and I hardly recognize what this place is. At first, I believed that it will be the same as always like when I was still in the Far East, that the only difference is the geographical location and its climate.
But I was gravely mistaken.
“We’ve changed,” an old man about 60 years old said. When he said these very words, I felt like what is left in this very soul of mine has been torn apart again. He was explaining something to someone but I didn’t care. I was trying to close my ears from every sound that is surrounding me. I just don’t want to feel my soul be torn apart more than it is now. It hurts.
In the Far East, in these kind of situations, I would have sent group messages to people, pestering them with my whines about how life is f*cking and messing me. Though some or should I say most of them wouldn’t care, having someone read it means a lot to me and makes me feel better even for just a day, an hour, a minute, or even a second. It feels like someone, at the very least, listened to my cries of pain and tried to understand me even though in reality, they really don’t. But as you can see, things are just not the same. No matter how f*cked up I become, there will be no one.
To tell the truth, I’m sick and tired of whining about everything. But most of the times, it’s the only thing that I can actually do. I’m always in situations where one wants to just die to stop the bleeding that one feels inside but oh well, the One above us all seems to not want to let me rest yet. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had enough suffering yet?
“I’m sorry,” said the old man after the long discussion. I’m wondering whether what the sorry is for and if he really meant it. Somehow it doesn’t feel he does. Well, who am I to judge him? I’m not God.
I wonder. When I said sorry to a certain girl, did she not believe me like the way I do not believe that old man? Had she had enough of me saying a bit too many sorry to a bit too many mistakes of mine?
I don’t really know.
I wish she was here. I miss the way how everything still feels it will be alright no matter how much it really isn’t.
I guess the “home” where I once felt is now burned to the ground and will forever be out of my sight.
0 comments:
Post a Comment
