bravado

where does courage come from? the deep breaths taken when your voice starts to quiver? the tight grip with both hands when they start to tremble? the smile someone blesses upon you that whispers don’t worry, you’ll be fine?

where does courage come from when fear is logical and natural, warning signs blaring to persuade of self-preservation? where is the source of determination from which you take the plunge, figuratively or literally?

i remember the long seconds i took to steel myself when i cliff dove the last time, 15 meters of free fall. the way i focused on the horizon and not the seawater beneath, clenching my fists, muttering to myself that it’s okay. the punishment of pain that came afterwards still kinda jars me, and sets back my courage to do something similar by quite a lot. i don’t imagine i’d ever attempt it again.

similarly, i’m taking a plunge this time, and maybe i’m worried that if it doesn’t turn out well, i’m gonna clam up for a long period after. yet at the same time, i’m sick of self-preservation, and i know i’ll regret it less if i tried and failed and hurt, than if i never tried at all.

i still know i don’t regret doing that cliff dive, not at all. i’d have hated myself if i didn’t try.

sometimes living in a dream

recently, i find solace in the ticks of my wristwatch. it’s new, so the sound is something new as well, but not foreign. it’s almost that of a quiet classroom, of falling asleep on a still night, a metronome swinging to a beat or a goodbye. it gives me comfort in its constancy.

moments can be fleeting, but i like that about it. it can be terrifying, how one moment can be stellar and the other tragic. maybe i’ve been tired recently to crave consistency, or maybe i’m changing the same way life does?  i half wanna settle down, but that shouldn’t mean i should just settle. i’ve been following the flow, but that shouldn’t mean i can just be swept away by the currents.

balance? is that what i’m trying to achieve; a delicate middle ground?

go figure

we all have someone we wanna be. maybe we’re not quite sure who that is, and maybe we don’t even know who we are right now, but we all have characteristics we strive for and flaws we try to address.

originally, i was dejectedly thinking that the person i am now isn’t quite who i wanna be. isn’t who i wanted to be. in some aspects i’ve made strides, but in some others i’ve regressed. the thing is, sometimes i can’t tell one from the other.

i used to spend my pocket money on buying tissues, on flag day, on charity donations. but now that i’m earning my own money, with so much more loose change, i seem to have become more skeptical of these things, or, alternatively, is it that i’ve become wiser and less idealistic?

i avoid eye contact with these people, but i’m unsure if it’s me not wanting to be tugged by the heartstrings, or, is it me not knowing what kind of reaction to give now that i’m not a starry eyed teenager, but a (ironically) knowing adult?

in the first place, do they even need my acknowledgement, or do i too quickly jump to judgements that i’m above them, and therefore should morally provide some respite, even if not monetary?

also. (one of many ‘also’s,) i prided myself on being someone open minded, or i wanted to. but i’m slowly realizing how often i ask loaded questions, how often i want to stick with my own assumptions and be right. there was a quora question that went “what’s the hardest thing to give up in life?”, and someone detailed an anecdote of her best friend who was convinced her boyfriend didn’t love her anymore. you’d think it progressed in some way to end with the friend not being able to give up her boyfriend, but surprisingly, it didn’t. it turned out that the boyfriend was mourning the loss of a family member, and just couldn’t pull himself out of the vortex of sorrow. but her friend was dead convinced he didn’t love her anymore because she didn’t feel it, and even with his words, her insecurities were stronger. the poster ended with her answer — the hardest thing to give up in life is something we’ve decided to believe.

that hit me hard. i too convince myself sometimes that i’m not deserving; of love, of friendship, of respect, of honesty. in most cases, i convince myself that it’s fine; i don’t care for it anyway — i love myself enough, i’m my own best friend, i’ll make a mark in life, and i’m smart enough to see the truth. but really though... really?

i misheard the lyrics on bradley cooper and lady gaga’s ‘shallow’ recently and related so much to it: “in all the good times, i find myself longing for change, and in all the bad times, i feel myself.” somehow, my good times are built upon convincing myself that i just need myself, which yeah sure, people always inspirationally propagate, and there are days i feel that way perfectly. but on bad days i kinda get faced with the reality that i want and need companionship. fuck, i hate to admit this so much... and it says something that when i feel like this, i feel shitty and pathetic, but i feel like i’m being honest to myself. i guess it’s also time to admit i’ve kinda muddled being independent (which i work towards) with being alone (which too much of makes me sad).

it turns out that the lyrics doesn’t say “in all the bad times, i feel myself,” but “in all the bad times, i fear myself“. we hear what we wanna hear, huh.

i wanted to think that i was well on my way towards being someone i wanted to be, but perhaps firstly, i need to face the harsh truth that it’s not a straight route, but a road with turns and loops and sometimes a mountain. and secondly, it’s fine to trip and stall and reverse and make some wrong turns. i probably need to be a little more forgiving of the world and myself, i deserve at least that much.

you paint sunshine yellow over a wall of grey

i'm too egoistic. always wanting to look put-together without trying too hard, and not just physically, but emotionally, intellectually, morally. yet it's fragile this way -- i don't take pride in it, so i don't safeguard it, and it ends up being a paper wall against the wind.

it's tough to admit i'm weak, which is hypocritical since i tell people that it's ok to have moments of weaknesses and vulnerability. always easier said than done, huh? i convince myself all the time that failing's alright and falling's alright and that i'm alright, but honest to God sometimes i'm fucking not. i just don't want to explain how i sometimes don't even know what's wrong with me, and i don't wanna admit how sometimes whatever people say doesn't cheer me up but i feel obliged to act like i feel better, and me, it's always about what /i/ want, what /i/ feel, which is perhaps human instinct but i hate it all the same. 

Solitude

Empathy is hard to grasp when we only see through our eyes.

Sometimes, there’s so much to say, but no words to put them in.

End of a day

There's so much to say, yet I know very little -- someone who I related to, still relate to, has passed. I didn't know him, and even lesser did he know me. But through his music, and my appreciation, I'd like to think we had a connection.

He showed himself to be honest a person, and multiple testimonies vouch for his kindness. If you look at worldly things, he had fame, money, success, recognition, and talent. He put in hard work. He remained humble with an open mind for the world and its intricate differences and varieties.

Countless pass in this world every day, and none are any less a tragedy. Every passing has a story, and every story engages different people. This one engages me. He was someone with a character I value, and directly or indirectly, I caught snippets of his development over the years. I almost feel invested now that I look back on it, but invested is not a term I would use because I didn't commit much attention nor effort.

But his passing tangles me. Pain and escape aren't foreign concepts to anyone, yet even though I've seen his smiles, his tears, his soulful singing, his moving lyrics; I still never really noticed his pain. Apparently, he was always truthful with his struggles and depression, too, but nope, it still never registered.

// written 201218