The idea hits the bull’s eye.

It’s not that I am lonely and trying to be happy by mingling with others. I am contented and happy as a lone wolf. That’s why I don’t make any effort to go out and have fun with peers. The idea applies to the reason why I have more than 500 friends on Facebook, and most of them I don’t personally know. I guess I try to compensate by accepting all the invites I received. I want to prove to others, especially to myself that I have many peers. But why should I? I mean I am positive that I am happy all by myself (or with only a few friends) so why should I try to be like others who collect thousands of friends? Don’t get me wrong, I guess it’s okay to have thousands of friends as long as your reason is not the same as mine. I think it’s high time I block some names on Facebook. Thanks to this social networking site, I can be very discrete doing so.

for unholy reasons.

Sometimes you lose something that could never be regained. I lost my faith in God several years ago. And I did my best to bring it back. But there’s already the never-ending doubt. There’s always the small voice at the back of my mind that’s urging me to doubt. The faithful could say, it’s the devil’s voice.

As I journey through life, it’s not just the purity of my faith in God that is ebbing away. My faith in love and loyalty is also fading. It’s probably caused by the betrayals of loved ones, who readily turned their backs on me in those dark moments. Well, I can’t really blame them. I may not be aware of it, but I might have done the same when they’re on the lowest point of their lives.

As of now, I don’t really believe that I can still achieve pure and lasting happiness in this life. But I’m contented with the thought that once in a while I can still get the chance to hold the ever-fleeting happiness in my hand.

I have a dream…

That I wander aimlessly, destination’s nowhere.
Just drifting with the gale or the soft zephyr.

I have a dream…

That I leave my past behind (this make sense to me ‘coz I always go with my past by my side).
And throw my future into the “pastcan”.

I have a dream…

That I cast off responsibility and the value of it,
Like a snake shedding its skin.

I have a dream…

That I become a vagabond,
a drifter.
Free from all care.

It almost reaches its boiling point.

I grab the knife.
And hold it tightly.
Clinging on it for dear life.
I know you won’t surrender without a good fight.
I have known you all my life.

At the count of three
I strike your belly.
Slowly, I push the knife deeper.
I smell your resistance, your fear.
It overwhelms me.
But I love its scent.

Liquid is oozing from the wound.
And right then and there, you strike back.
I am anticipating it,
but I’m still caught by surprise.

The pain–
It’s blinding.
I close my eyes tightly
but not before the tears
start escaping from the two deep pools.
But I have to endure it. I need to.
I make another cut.
Slicing you.
And then another.
I saw your gut
White.
(This is where I draw the line)
Mine is dark red,
verging on purple.
Probably, black.
But I am white outside.
As white as your gut.

I hear someone calls my name
and says something.
I am so engross contemplating
my gut and yours that I barely hear it.
“Is the onion ready? The water is already boiling.”

I wipe my tears.

Anyway, I just want to talk bout pears. I am actually eating one…Pears remind me of one of my favorite novels, SpringMoon (by Bette Bao Lord). The author has a rare gift in describing the scenes and the emotions of the characters with sharp vividness. The novel can actually bring one back to revolutionary China.

When you are reading the novel, you won’t feel you’re watching the scenes on a television screen. The vividness of the scenes goes beyond that. It gives you the sense of being transported to the setting of SpringMoon. You actually become a character—maybe a ghost lurking in the shadowy hallways in the House of Shang.

In this novel, you can really feel the wind and taste the pear.

Sorry, I end up talking about my favorite novel.

I’m, to borrow a term from a friend, literary constipated. I can’t express what I want to say in comprehensive language. Thoughts are just there hovering in my foggy brain, distorted…waiting for the perfect words.

I feel like I’m always grappling with words. I can’t really pour my thoughts out so freely. There’s always a barrier.

I’m just bored.

So for now, I’ll just rant, rant, and rant…empty my heart out.

* The sun is nowhere to be found and the dark moon is also lurking somewhere else.

* I want to scream but I hate hearing the echo.

* I’m in the desert.

It will contain all
chanting, ranting, and raving.

And a good deal of
losing myself in the swirling…