Shorelines and Lifelines.

Staring into the sinking sun, feet cushioned by the warm sand, walking by yourself and yet with seventy-eight other people at the same time. I probably felt it then.

It's hard not to cherish and keep going back to.

There are people you see everyday. And then for three days, you see them more than you usually do, and you learn so much you had not known before.

About the girl who would barge into the bathroom, hopping on one-foot, to save you and your new clothes from the uncontrollable shower; who would race you down the empty corridors at 2:00 am; who would ask to share the shower to save time; who would honestly point things out to you when you couldn't point them out to yourself; who would patiently powder your face while you cringed and flinched and messed it all up; who would listen while you ranted and would offer you her best advice, only after laughing at your predicament for a little while.

And about that guy with the most beautiful voice; who would sing from his heart, and cause it to resonate in yours till dawn; who could write the most breathtaking music; who would make fun of you all the time; who would try so hard to live up to people's expectations of him even when he was in the depths of despair; who just could not swim and would float around in a swim ring; who would listen to you without a shred of weariness; who would tell you exactly what he thought; who would trust you; who would confide in you.

And of course that guy who would make you laugh all the time; who would blurt out that you were the best part of the three days; who would help everyone out; who would whimsically buy a sword while everyone else was buying jewelry or ceramic souvenirs; who would run around everywhere like the happiest little child; and yet sink into the worst melancholia in the midst of festivity; who would always worry about you drowning in the swimming pool; who just had so much learn and figure out; who would always be there for you, loyalty unfaltering.


And the countless people whom you had previously known nothing about, but now can even say you cherish.
Somewhere in between the 4:00 am card games, the walks on the beach, the swimming lessons, the exchange of accessories and life hack ideas, the photo sessions, the common frustration with the authority, the teamwork in shopping for presents, the ten-hour bus rides - something happens.

Something wonderful.

He Got Stuck at the Laundromat, Washing His Cape. (8)

Also waiting for the trip now. The rainy weather could be a problem, but hey, as long as the trip's taking place, it's cool. It's going to be a good four-days away from here, with good people.
I'm writing this down because I don't write enough anymore, and I hope I write about my trip after it's done. I feel like I should start a countdown till the 25th. :D Pretty excited already!

'Cause You're Alive, Cradled in Love.

Smiles and laughs and waves and hugs. More than you could have begun to expect to. More than you thought you would be capable of.

For all that each of you are, and for all that each of you do -
Thank you.

No matter what comes tomorrow and on the days that follow, I'm counting my blessings tonight.

Shooting Stars

The days feel like one very long day. A very, very long day.

There are things you know like the back of your hand. You can't un-know them in a day.
But then again, how much did you really know to begin with?

A billion stars that were born all at once just fall out of the sky. All at once.
Not one has the time to grant a thing.

Benzene Bizarreness

Yesterday I was wondering if I should still be writing on this blog now that I have somewhere else to write.

Today I know that I can write here too, simultaneously.

Right now I need a vacation. I need this semester to be over soon, so that I don't have to worry about things like organic chemistry. It literally made me cry. Organic fucking chemistry made me cry the other night. I can't begin to explain how sad that is.

I kept procrastinating and putting off studying for last Tuesday's test, and I finally began the night before the exam. Now, I've pulled this shit off before, but this is Organic Chemistry-II we're talking about, and let's face it, my obsessive compulsive teacher has tried his best to design the course in such a way that you can't just get by with last minute preparations.

So, when it was 1:00 am and I saw how much I had left to do, I cried like a loser. Because of organic chemistry. Yes, solely organic chemistry. That's why it's so sad. The last time I had cried about studies was after a disastrous maths exam in seventh grade.

Anyways, thank God I pay attention in this one class. Some of the stuff had stuck in my head, and I just tried solving questions from the book. It wasn't the best exam according to me, but I got through.


It's just that, after shit like this, when I see that I've scored 90% on the test, it helps me get through a day that otherwise would have been pretty shitty. As nerdy as it sounds, momentarily I feel like I have something to push myself for. And that's good. Because right now I really do need a purpose. Even if its organic chemistry.

Yes. THAT'S how loser-like my life is.

Clair de Lune

Imagine a baby in a basket at your doorstep one fine morning. No notes, no name tags, not even a guide or a single instruction. But you don't call the cops. You bring the basket home.

Imagine clutching a favorite book while running out of a blazing house.

Or that last cupcake, vanilla yet surprisingly good.

Or that little boy in kindergarten who sits there painting, long after everyone else has gone out to play.

Or the last laugh before you doze off.

The lanky preteen boy who looks back over his shoulder a dozen times as he walks home from school.

Or the teenaged girl who needs some help with her choices.

A timid ladybird on your arm you grew so fond of.

The face in the hallway you had never seen. Till you finally did.

Or the knock on the door that you knew would come any second now.

Or that stranger in the park, reading your favorite novel.

7:00 pm.

Little Simba and Timon alternating in dynamic equilibrium.

3:00 am.

Irony and puns and wordplay.

8:00 am.

Such ridiculous graffiti.

The room of requirement. Yeah.

A rescue spaceship.

An astronaut.

Yield points.

I guess it was inevitable. It had to reach the point where all measures seem as pointless as all the others before these. I guess some things never change. I should be happy about that. But at this point I'm kind of wondering why it is the negative stuff that stick around. Anyways, here's to more pushing around and shit. Till it snaps.

People and things and all

By the time this time is over, everything will still be the same. You just made that clear again. And here I was, thinking there was a limit to everything, including a person's share of indifference. Apparently not. So, yeah. Things will still be the same when this phase is over. But, hopefully, I'll be different. I want to be different. Maybe I will even want different things. I don't want to want different things, though.

We live half in the daytime, and we, we live half at night. (8)

So. It has been a while. A longer while to go. The days are okay, kind of. For the most part. I've been busy. Finally getting into life sciences club work and volunteering. Midterms have been taking up my time too. It really starts to feel strange in the evening. Then there's the night, which is stranger. Quieter. And just not right. I changed your contact picture on my phone. I cropped myself out of this one photo and all. You look freaking adorable, you big baby. :D Gets me through the days. And above all, the nights.

Lost habits and dry wells.

We forget. We forget what we used to do and who we used to be. It happens. Change is inevitable. That does not necessarily mean that it is the end of the world. Yes, shocker hearing that from me.

But, well, I've learned; we've all learned that this is how it is and will be. People change, things change, we change.

And life goes on.

What sometimes deeply saddens me, though, is when I think about how change is so much based on what we have and don't have. How much we try depends on what we own and what we do not; that makes sense and that's really okay. But isn't it sad to just stop trying after success? Isn't that when you make greater efforts to forever treasure what you now have?

I mean, if you've sought after something for such a long time, fought for something very hard, tried all you could, then it must have been very valuable to you. Is it still? Yes? Well, then go shout it to the world. Do it before you find yourself singing songs of the worth of water into an empty well.

No balance whatsoever.

Walking out of my last exam and going bowling. Then returning home, having my cousin sleep over, packing and then leaving at dawn for a trip.
I needed a vacation. I really did.
And I got one.

An uninterrupted one. A completely, fully uninterrupted one. I should be happy about that.
No? No.

~ It's A Quarter After One, I'm All Alone, And I Need You Now. (8)

I'm fine. Fine. Right?

~ Call An Optimist, She's Turning Blue. (8)

The details are clear, vivid. Most of them, at least. The high was undeniable. The rush was insane. I haven't brought out the purple notebook in ages. Turns out I do not need that to remember the bits and pieces. The purple one was full of happy thoughts. Happy happenings. One week or so. The pages ran out at that point.


Then began the blue notebook. I had a naive, annoying name for it. It hadn't seemed so annoying then. So, yeah. The blue one. Beginning with the second week. The discomfort. The shoving of chairs - an action that had seemed gallant for a fleeting moment - then, with every passing thought, it all seemed more foreign, uncomfortable. But it was okay, right? A small price to pay?
No, it wasn't. The looks on the faces of those dear to me were new, taken aback, disheartened.

In my current flurry of thoughts, a particular memory keeps whirling around. The sad face of a friend I had known since I was five. A defeated face. I could tell. I wish I had at least apologized out loud for the trouble being caused because of me. But I didn't. Why? I'm not sure. A part of it was fear, the other may have been the lost habit of communicating with people the way I should have. I mouthed a timid "Sorry." And he smiled. No defeat in the smile. It was almost nonchalant. With a wave, he dismissed my apology, putting on a brave face. He assured me it was nothing and that it would be over in a matter of minutes. I smiled back, very slightly. I wish I had done more than that, but there was no way of knowing what terror might befall from a proper, full smile. And I was a pathetic girl. And a pathetic excuse of a friend. Which made sense, because I wasn't a friend. Not really.

 And there was that time under the retreating afternoon sun , when the call rang out for everyone to stand in prayer - me being shoved away and veiled and pulled back in, all the while the Arabic words beautiful in the background, waiting to be shown respect, but getting none. I wish I had done something. I had tried. I wish I had tried harder, even if it came to nails digging in with an intention to hurt. But I didn't do that. Of course I didn't.

A statue would be built in my memory, you said? Because someone as dishonorable as myself deserved a monument? Isn't that what you said, that statement accompanied by a few words beginning with S and W, poor synonyms of the word dishonorable? Yeah, that's what you said.

I think the blue notebook is with my mom now. Or maybe not anymore. I don't know. I don't ask.

~ You Just Refuse To Bend, So I Keep Bending Till I Break. (8)

You need to like who you are. That doesn't mean liking everything about yourself. But in the general sense, you need to like the person you are. We all love ourselves in one way or another. I know I love myself enough to run away from scary dogs on the streets or to stay away from the electric socket that always sparks up a little every time someone touches it. But that's not exactly the kind of self-love I'm talking about here.

It's important to do things for yourself and all. And if you're someone who is always feeling small, then you need to work on it. But if you're someone who only feels small when staying with a certain person or a certain group of people, then maybe you need to start questioning your choice of companions.
I have a friend. At several points in life, I have felt pushed around by her. And then eventually, I stopped getting sad about it and just went with the flow. I stopped getting too worked up about whether I was letting her down, and I no longer put myself on guilt trips. And we do just fine now.

But, sadly, you can't do that with everyone. You can't zone out parts of everyone. It just doesn't work that way. And when it doesn't, I guess you need to start thinking about zoning out the entire person. Completely. Out of your life. Not easy.
I mentioned this before, but I need to emphasize on how tired I am of finding extreme things everywhere. Nothing comfortably in the middle. Perhaps I'm discovering new things about myself now. I'm the kind of person for whom the little things make immeasurable difference. I'm the kind of person who listens to and remembers every little detail (and not JUST because of my creepily precise memory) about what someone likes or dislikes or has been craving for lately. I'm the kind of person who gets reminded of that individual when I come across something that he/she mentioned liking or wanting. I'm just kind of person who won't feel fully at rest till I have been able to give the thing to him/her, provided that it's within my ability. The thing could be anything, starting from one single cupcake from a confectionery to a loved book.
About two months ago, my student informed me that my favorite book was now available in town. I already own a copy of this (God bless some people who go the extra mile to give others what they really want), but I know of a certain friend of mine who'd have loved to have a hard copy. So, even though I was barely in regular contact with this friend, I became determined to get it from the bookstore and drop it off at her place the next morning, even if she would be asleep at that hour. But then shit happened. I was very disappointed and my enthusiasm faltered. I'd STILL like to give her the book someday, though.

I have no idea where I was going with all that blabber. I guess I'm just trying to say that I've always been a bit like this, but I never really noticed it with significance before. It's not that I don't like this side of me; I do. But it becomes a problem when it comes to people I cannot partially zone out. This whole . . listening and remembering thing becomes kind of an important expectation. And it bugs me a lot. It's probably not even fair, but it does.

I realize that this post is all over the place, and does not go in one particular direction or even make a point, really. But I'm glad I'm using my blog to spill thoughts again - raw and unfiltered.

Stellar.

It has been a while since I've written. Not just here, but anything at all. But here I go. Not because my writing spirit is back. But because I want to remember this. That's what this post is. Just a way for me to remember the day. 29th March, 2015.

The day started at 9:10 am.
First time in an arcade gaming zone, a childish way to begin the day - motorbike racing through the forests of Africa while monkeys threw freaking bananas to distract me,  shooting together at zombies on pirate ships, failing to pick up one of those stuffed puppets with the impossible claw, dancing off awkwardly to some annoying Kylie Minogue song.
Then randomly walking into a store selling household utensils and furniture, walking to the very back of the store and unthinkingly lying down next to each other on a bed from one of those model bedroom settings. Yeah, bucketlist thing.
Getting the tiniest breakfast because you want to save your appetite for later, buying tickets for the movie you really wanted to watch but thought you couldn't because it was a late show and then having to buy it anyway because the earlier movie was oh-so-conveniently unavailable so it was pretty obvious what you now had to do to save the day.
Spending half an hour on the rickshaw just talking about how it all happened exactly two years ago and being amazed at how it led to today.
And then going to the buffet place you always wanted to go to together and spending over three hours and a half, eating good food and talking and being weird and watching the final match of the cricket world cup and being able to be there at the winning moment when he is overjoyed by the win of a team he loves.
Traveling back to watch the movie, but stopping to get the best chocolate doughnuts on the way even though you're completely full.
Watching the movie and wishing the day wouldn't end.
And then being thankful that there was still one car ride left before the day ended.
And being all YOLO. Haha!
Finally, getting home and being proud of your PowerPoint skills since your geeky 'presentation' was a total tearjerker, in a good way. :D
And feeling so happy. So very happy.
Yeah.

------------------------------------

730 days.

Yes, some days are hard; some days are harder.

But even during the times when it's hard, it makes sense. It took me a while to understand this. It's when you'd rather have something that you care enough about to be insanely affected by it very easily, instead of having something which is just..okay, all the time.
Wouldn't you rather have something that's got enough of you to madly frustrate you and also make you feel like you've just been handed a slice of heaven? Wouldn't you want something that makes you feel everything?

Because I would. Something that can raise waves and tsunamis and volcanic eruptions; the absence of which makes every tick of the clock feel like blood pulsing behind a bruise, the presence of which feels like a million stars being born all at once.