Where are our feet? Our hands? We living lifelessly and hanging up beyond picture? Where is the sister of love that once heal our migraine. Suppose there is still love, I will consider of building a tent of light. To be in the green, feeding on organic substance, hanging china. I need pictures of genuine intimacy. The truth, I rejoices.
In the streets, there is people around me that is living kinda out of tune. I may be too judgemental and trying to put people below me. But what for this cases, I suppose the truth need to be refined and marketed. That its root and stem will grow, its flower will flourish, the scent will persist. People resist the creation of natural ‘needles and threads’, with the artificial mean, they created a fairyland. I want to be true enough and honest, yet never those values, I mean , sometimes. To be little outcast in certain way will also created a pasture of self-enjoyment. But wait till you see the well that is always somewhere unseen.
Hugging my pillow, I often imagine the look of the beauty. Yet, those addictive moments sometimes can’t cure the real thing in me. I can’t get to sleep.
Sometimes, I get the feeling of loving and being loved. It is simple. Everything is going straight, even the relationship. Everytime I write, I get everything in a circle, just strolling through the same destination. I wish to break it out of the boundary, the hot meting path. Maybe I’ll start with some fairy tales with monster in it, to kinda stuck me into this sort of awkward activity. Confusion. I write to be confused, not to be confused with truth but with my mind. I tried to makes everything to come be in my heart, but it ruins when I want to put it into words. There is no way to solidify it into such concrete and fix posture. All the emotion and feeling are flying around and they communicate with my mind when I ponder or sort of building my Buckigham in the air. And all this rise to a façade. An old buck.
Perhaps when I set my mind that I am not writing for someone, or in fact I am writing for myself and I have the freedom to even scream and shout at the screen. It’s my liberty. My own, personal party that I am hanging around. Words have changed my life a lot, really, to an extent that even 10000 pages of book can’t explain it all. It creates in me a fundamental understanding on how to be a Chinese and a Malaysian. All the collections of wisdom has contributed in the living of a person, a family, a country and one whole world.
See, again, people are getting harsh on each other, blood stained war. Leave those foul words alone so that you can stand still by yourself and by using beautiful words which means polite, to strengthen the way you converse and how people understand you. Lets love in the time of exiles, to love in a war, in purity and certainty, I believe our hearts will be bonded together in one nation, one circle again.
Much love,
