That sudden-Tiny glass Crack.

On a regular round-table dinner night, he was somewhat uneasy,unusually uncomfortable. Mother goes," what's wrong with you, are you not feeling well?"
He kept his eyes locked into our expressions and grunts an unwilling answer,"nothing".
Mother continues her persistence and goes, "did someting happen to you just now?"
and father adds in by saying,"Did somebody BULLY you on the fields just now??"
Still staring deeper into our eyes, He mutters under his breath,"NO,nothing la".
And then I saw it. that face.That expression I know so well.I felt it coming through me and crawling deep inside my skin.
"I know that expression",i thought to myself.
That sudden tiny-tiny glass crack.
not shattered,not broken,and still intact.but,just...Cracked.
He was holding it in with al his might. I could feel his strength to maintain control.
"so thats how It looks like when you're all broken-up inside yet remain focused on the outside",I thought.
..that slight twitch on the corner of the lip, the half-raised eyebrows, that tight-muscled cheeks, those gritted teeth. That tension yet relaxed posture.
he finally blurted out in a shaky yet steady voice," I dreamt I Died."
There it was.Those simple sentence, coming from his much-too young heart.
I stared at him knowingly.
The parents reacted differently,suggesting alternative ideas to what his words really meant.
"What do you mean?" they said.
"You had a bad dream is it?A nightmare",they continued.
I saw his frustration, as he repeated the exact same words,"I dreamt I DIED!"
"you mean you couldnt move onn the bed is it, like a ghost sitting on you?", they responded.
I couldnt help but say," NO, I GET WHAT HE MEANS??OH MY GOD."
They gave me a funny look as I look over to him and felt an unexpected desire to crack-up just like him.
Eventually, he gave up and darted upstairs echoing,"nevermind,forget it".
He left the parents in confusion on the table, while I just continuously repeated "i get him,i understand, HE DREAMT HE DIED".
"you should go and talk to him then",the father exclaimed.
I kept quiet and somehow didnt manage to do so, How could i possibly make him understand that I truly did understand what he felt. To why his dream caught him off-guard and had silently traumatised his entire day.
Thats when I saw a tiny part of my past in him, that undying silence.Those buried emotions simply because you think people dont understand anyway,why bother?
For a few days now, I realise the whole situation somehow mattered to me, as it was kept on replay-mode in my head.

"Look for Signs"

how applicable can these words be in your life when the idea of 'a sign' is far too dependent on self-interpretation?
Just 2 evenings ago, I spotted 4:44 on the clock in my car.Yesterday evening, i spotted 4:44 AGAIN on my cell.
If I was truly suppose to look out for these blurry signs, should it mean that something bad is going to happen to me?

0_9

It just doesn't make sense to believe in Everything. Far too often i come to the conclucion that Subjectivity is just tedious.

Days ago a special friend sent the song by Rachael Yamagata-Worn me Down. Just today I discovered the same song burnt into a cd that was given to me last night by another good friend. So I figured, maybe there's a message in that song that I should be looking into. After I www.letssingit.com the song, I tried really hard to interpret the song in a way that it could relate to me at this point of time. So i refered to excerpts of the song that MAY make sense:

"Gone
She's gone
How do you feel about it
That's what I thought
You're real torn up about it
And I wish you the best but I could do without it"

"Worn me down like a road
I did anything you told
Worn me down to my knees
I did everything to please you"

"I did anything to please but you can't stop thinking about her"

If i were to be a believer, this would bother the crap out of me.
Selectivity is the Key.
frack this.

Addicted to the Stage.

"now I understand why you guys do it,"she says.

And I just smiled back knowingly.
its always a good feeling when they(people.somebody.someone.) "GET IT".
Get what your trying to say.
Get what you felt.
what u thought.
what u experienced.
maybe in their own perspective,but still.
they GET IT.
and thus, Sharing becomes an easy task to do.
because all u need is that right vibe of somebody who understands whatever the hell you're trying to say.

The stage.
seen in darkness and light.
of vision and blindness.
in fear and courage.
of strength and weakness.
in calm and panic.
of worries and ease.
in center and off-balanced.
of focus and distractions.

mixed emotions.
b a l a n c e d.
you just Got to love it.

Momentary Flashbacks.

It happens far too often in a day, when I close my eyes for these momentary flashbacks. The funny thing is that it snaps through swiftly, within a couple of seconds.
And within this short frame of time I find myself tasting the air I once felt, derived from a blend of blue skies and cotton-ball clouds.The never-ending breeze that carried the smell of the salty sea within metres away. The soothing sound of an acoustic guitar being strummed by a homeless-young-man along the street. The beautiful garden of flowers planted along the sidewalks...and ofcourse,my heart.Ever so at ease,ever so calm.My mind.Ever so unified,ever so contented. I feel like my words are not sufficient. I seem to not have the ability to sketch these images out, like the way its been re-playing in my head. I can't seem to share these stories that had made an impact, a suprising difference in my life. Once the story is told, the picture remains incomplete. I don't have the ability to just pick up an instrument to play a tune depicting these emotions.
I can't seem to tell you what It felt like one year ago. This very month, 12 months ago, where I was and what went through my head as I allowed my wings to be spread like never before.(Had it really passed through before my eyes,without my consent?) It was then i realised my very own meaning of 'freedom', given that Freedom has always been a subjective matter.

I have these stories running through my entire being and though I will never ever be able to share it the way i want to, I'm hoping it Never fades away.

Disco Ball.

how would you feel if the disco-ball life were in your hands?
"what is a disco-ball life,anyway?"

Urban life?

Q Saudades amiga AG.

Despite the way it sucked you in into the world of materialism and wanna-be's, couldnt help but LOVE the thrill of being a tiny part of the big rush. Of motivated individuals who seem to have found their purpose being a part of that mechanical system. Eventually it all balls down to the kinds of perspective you select, in which no matter what you always find a way to make yourself "fit in". ofcourse, the notion of "fitting in" is evolved into something meaningful. Sometimes its 'oh-so-good' to feel like a complete nobody in a far-away land.

Those one Second Breath Pauses.

Its those tiny fascinations that keeps you going.
I swear.
I miss that feeling of desperation, when faced with an unimaginable beauty.