i think one reason why I really cant be bothered to write here anymore is because unlike in the past, where i only pretended not to care about other people knowing what I felt and thought (honestly, the vanity of adolescence), I think I've been calloused enough that I cannot really be bothered anymore

I think there usually is the vain (though often subconscious desire) to be thought of as more eloquent and more poignant than we can normally muster, but I think a decent amount of introspection together with a fair bit of reading is humbling enough to point out the pointlessness of that venture.


Im almost ashamed to dig up the vaults of this blog, to see how I used to write (and by extension) think when I was younger. I think I was much more eager, and much more idealistic then...

Im not sure where those ideals have gone. I used to see myself as a postmodernist?
I think I only truly started to become one after I turned 24.

You see, I used to think that all this running around, this flailing about under the sun was pointless, but I used to think that there was a centre, a core,  platonic realm full of ideals that would one day extend to ours and make everything ok.

Nowadays Im not so sure anymore.
Perhaps, there are not platonic ideals, and perhaps we are too flawed to be restored.

space between us

kindred spirits we once were
but time and tide take their toll
encroaching on the space between us
so now nostalgia has no home

once i thought you knew me
but now we're strangers familiar
once i thought we'd always be
but now there's only the space between you and me

If ur mercy is forever, where is it now?

i miss the numinous

the fleeting glimpse of distant shores


of alien places that feel like home

i almost forgot this existed, a relic from an age gone by,
it all seems so alien now-the original impetus for blogging

i suppose it started out of the angsty crucible that is adolescence,
the pursuit of expression, but really attention,

its no wonder it died out,
i ran out of things to say


or maybe i just lost my voice


someone told me that couples who love God would not get bored of each other since they would continuously grow in God and therefore there it would always be new; always fresh

applying that logic inwards:
maybe ive stopped growing, and thus have tired of myself.


i used to think that life would be like parable,
that if i, like the prodigal son - packed up and went,
in pursuit of my own,

there would come the day where my will gave out,
enough would be enough, the spiritual tantrum would lose steam
i could simply turn back
and God would come running down the road for me


but there isn't a emergency chute, there isnt a safe word
and ive burnt most of my bridges.


i find myself here, lost, and there doesnt seem to be anyway back
back doesnt exist anymore, maybe it never did


well, at least i have grown out of my melancholic, misinformed romantic phase
I used to think that the right one would come along,
the person to make me whole,
that thru the power of love, I would be made right
distilled in character and spirit to become a complete person...


only whole people find whole people
the cure for loneliness isnt company

and i have accepted my lonely lot,
until i become a whole person myself, or until forever
whichever comes first


for all this wilderness,
at least i think ive glimpsed at a  fragment of truth

you only overflow if you are being poured out for others.

maybe this is why God seems to be working thru me even now
when i stumble into making a difference,
He doesnt have to share the glory

Decided I'll start writing again as well since I'm unemployed and thus and bound to be free. To be honest I'm feeling a little deflated today, maybe part of it is seeing all my friends get their first class and knowin I could have if I fought for it harder.... Maybe part of it is the knowledge that I'm growing older but lack direction and ambition.... I used to hope that God would help me find my place.... Maybe because I strayed... Or maybe I was never that close to begin with Or maybe, just maybe there isn't a perfect will or a perfect place Maybe there isn't a better or worse Maybe there's just the here and the now, and it sucks but its all we'll ever have

how did you find your way into my mind cos i was on my way out of sight, of mind, of reach to beg a question am i what you are looking for I don't know myself anymore