- Monday, April 02, 2007


Thunders are roaring as the rain pours, quenching the earth of her thirst. It is as though the sky's wrath is unleashed as the stars of heaven cry their heart out, to soothe the anger, or perhaps, who might know, disappointment.

Many have often associated rain with sadness and loneliness. In songs, they sing; in poems, they rhyme, but who really understands the sorrow of rain? Thunders, on the other hand, in modern world, were often analogized with the problems in life. And to make matters more exaggerative, or complex, storm is brought into the picture.

I'm going through a commotion, probably mostly caused by my questions. Questions of my strengths. Questions of my weaknesses. Above all, questions of my future.

I could find no help when I face this. I hear opinions all over, but they're like spilled milk, the molecular mixture splattered here and there. Even if I wiped them all, they'll just be absorbed in the cloth, never to be drinkable again. So what if I squeeze the cloth?

I remember one of the lamest jokes ever heard, by Cheffrost, "It is useless to cry over spilled milk. So what should you do?" Cheffrost pauses, looks into my eyes with uncountable question-marks floating around his head, and then continues with a satisfied smile, because I couldn't seem to find an answer, "Get a glass and pour milk inside it again la!"

Distinctively I could recall Bro Kay Jin advising, "Imagine what would you be doing 10 years from now; that'll be the job for you." Uh-huh. The typical answer would be, "Where's your interest, that'll be your job." Partly yes, partly no. I love playing Play-station II games, but that doesn't mean I'd want to play PS II as a job. Absurd, wouldn't it be?

So what if I've chose a job, would that be the path I'll take? Would I be happy of it? Would it satisfy me the way I intended, or thought, it would? The questions could go on, but where would be the answers that follow?

I may have my dream, but would it come to past? Would my dream be my job?

Just as my niecy said, "I never knew moving through phases in life can be this painful, until now." I guess I understand how she feels now. It's indeed painful, and having pain stalk you like crazy isn't nice.

More new responsibilities start coming onto my shoulders, but I've nobody to share the burden with. I don't blame anybody, in fact, I don't even want to talk about it with anybody, because all I'll get from others is sympathy, which is something I need the least now. In my heart, someone has always been the first whom I'll run to when such things occur, but it seems that this person can't ever be here for me anymore. Talk about changes in life, since both of us are going through different changes in life.

If possible, I would love to run into a clean underground hole and hide, perhaps my whole life and never to come out again. I don't want sunshine, I don't want rain. I don't want peace, I don't want war. I want nothing. I just want to have the cold underground air rub against my cheek and hum me to sleep, and never to wake up again. Why should life be so difficult?

Even if our country would be at peace, it is not the case for me. I am at constant war within myself. I wonder whether is it what everybody go through, especially those growing ones. Somehow, sooner or later, what is black and what is white wouldn't seem important anymore, and colors wouldn't seem to bother.

I want to be a kid again. I don't want to grow up. It's too painful.

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