I am animus. I am the hate that dwells in your chest, pricking your heart with needles soaked in poison. I am the blood that spills from the slitted throats of innocent children. I am the red tide that brings death and destruction to the living. I am the din that gives birth to the demons that haunt your mind and taunt your soul.
I am also sorrow. I am the depression that grips your emotions with claws of rusted steel, peeling your sanity bit by bit. I am the dark humour that fills the night and that blinds your eyes. I am the shroud of fog that confuses you and renders your senses useless. I am the silence of the dead that drives you to the brink of losing your mind.
I am the bliss that fills your breast with joy and happiness. I am the wild flowers of May whose scent dances in the meadows and lingers on your shoulder. I am the holy light in which you bathe and cleanse your body, mind and soul. I am the lord who descends from the heavens and saves the earth. I am the heaven that you seek. I am salvation. I am purity. I am hope. I am love.
Do you remember that night we gazed at the stars? It was late and the sky was clear that night. I looked up; so did you. You asked why there were stars directly above us, and not in other directions. I paused for a moment and came up with a hypothesis: the stars above us were closer to us than the ones in other directions. There was a shorter distance and there were fewer interfering air particles that refract light between us and the stars directly above us. You thought it impressive; I was just being me. That night, I had thoughts rushing in my mind. That night, I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn't because I was too shy.
That night, I fell for you.
What went wrong? You were a shooting star that was bound for some destination—a destination far away from me. That's why we drifted apart even though we started off as 2 stars colliding into each other. It's a cliché to say that we were star-crossed lovers, but that's what we seem to be.
How can I say that I regret meeting you?
You're proof that love can exist regardless of superfice. It's not about money, education, appearance, or status. You stand as testament to the fact that love transcends that which is visible. I know that for a fact.
However, feelings change. I have no power over that. Fate meant for our stars to collide, but it is also fate that has decided for us to part ways. Where will you go? Will we ever meet again? Can we ever... My doubts and regrets torture me in ways unimaginable. For now, let's just keep the story short and say that you're a shooting star that hasn't found its destination yet. By chance, I met you in the vast nothingness of the galaxy and was somehow pulled by your force. But you went by and I was left drifting in space. This is my last dedication to you, A. If, somehow, you are reading this, let it be known that I'm sorry for everything.
별 (Star) - Kim Ah Joong
The wind is shaking the windows, and over my small room.
The stars fill up the sky, shining brightly—too many to count.
The stars reassure the tired me.
They wipe away the many tears that are deep inside me.
"Don’t be hurt too much," they hug me tight
and pamper me,
and comfort me,
telling me to go to sleep
Though I’m exhausted to the point where I can’t walk,
though my tears blur my vision,
I’ll still smile in front of the love that I’m not able to get.
Even though our happy times were short, I’ll treasure them deep inside my heart,
like the countless number of stars, forever.
My dream is coming. Though it is unusual that my one star is bright,
it is very bright, blinding even, it comes down to my shoulder.
"Stop being so sad," it holds my hand as it touches me
and gives me a warm hug.
Only for today, I won’t cry. Though my eyes fill with tears,
I want to laugh like those stars.
Oh~ I want to cherish all my happy moments deep inside my heart,
It's been a while since my last post. I've officially completed my MA and am now chilling at home.
Here are a few photos of the trip all over the UK I went for with mum, dad, and 2 of mum's friends. It was a memory rekindling trip as we treaded the path we treaded back in the early 90s when we were living in the UK still.
The chronology was:
London > Wales > Scotland > Yorkshire > London
It took us a week, if I'm not mistaken. We didn't go south to Kent etc. though.
Anyway, Scotland was beaut. The highlands were boggy and unscenic but nice nonetheless. Visiting Loch Ness made me reminisce about the trip we had all over the UK back when I was small. The pit stop in Huddersfield made me reminisce even more because that was where I was raised. We went to our old house and my old school, and we even met our old land lord.
I went to Norway with mum and Dad. It was in June, btw; so, this is like a throwback kinda thing. Even though it was already summer, it was still snowing in the mountains. Total wonder. I have never seen such beautiful scenery in my entire life. If you ever have time and some extra money, I totally recommend that you see the fjords in Norway.
There is something about snow that gives you a false sense of calmness. The dead of winter is despair. The slowly drifting snowflakes are the people who have lost and are aimlessly lingering, wandering without destination.
Sia - Straight for the Knife
2.2.15
As I sit in Chandler House struggling trying to make sense of Q-implicatures and pragmatics as a whole, I look out the glass panels of the solarium and stare at the melancholic winter sight. There is nothing here to admire but buildings of bare red brick walls, even if they are worthy of admiration, which is less than likely. No blue skies, no flocks of pretty birds, no vivid colourful blooms and no lush green leaves - just grey clouds, nasty sky rat pigeons, drab buds (if any) and lame dead brown compost-ish excuses for leaves. Snow, at least, would make winter seem nicer, but there is none of that in London - at least not much. I laugh at how people think highly of the British. They are no less than Malaysians. They litter everywhere, spit anywhere, let their dogs shit all over the place. I laugh. London isn't pretty. It's not Huddersfield, where I grew up, where there are meadows with beautiful wild flowers in summer and blankets of pure white snow in winter. Then I come to think of the villages in Malaysia: dirty, daft, disgusting. Ok, bye.
