buckle up

2ND FEBRUARY 2011 - yet another day.

I've been getting weird dreams lately. About resurrection. About vampires. The undead. I hope you get my point. I've longed for dreams like these for a long time already. But when I've gotten it, I feel .. uncomfortable. And it's getting extremely annoying that whenever I write, all the fear and memories just shoo away for a bit.
Hello mind, I'm trying to open up here?! Why are you giving me such a hard time?!

I don't know if it's because I've been reading so much books about the undead, and vampires. All I can say is it was interesting, and creepy, yet I still want more.

Everyday I see people, walk pass them, and I imagine things. I imagine people dying. I don't know - hit by a car, stabbed from the back, soul taken, you name it. The thought of death brings me closure I guess. I've always had this interest in death. How? After-life? Soul? I imagine them dying, one by one, legs not even strong enough to support them. Falling down. Crash. And burn. The details captivating me. I feel like I'm repeating everything. I don't know - it's just hard to explain. I get this little sliver of hope, seeing them shatter like that. I blink my eyes. But everyday they stay the same. They smile and walk pass by. The idea of them even stopping is just silly. But why do I have these desires? To see at least one of them fall? Satisfaction?

The day goes by. Don't be weirded out when you see me crying in school. Suddenly, even just walking in the corridors. I tear up easily. Seeing everything. Thinking about everything. I feel my brain telling my mind, 'Stress out! Think! Think! Think! Make this mind burst!' I strain my mind too much. Think about everything in life. Family, friends, strangers, dreams, signs, what else can I get?

I took the long way and walked around the hawker center at my area. I see people, and I see them shattering. Redundant enough. I turned my gaze to this fat guy, enjoying his noodles. His hair was big, fuzzy, and frizzy. You'll almost feel like you're in a dream. Do you know that feeling? Seeing something so blurry, thinking that it was a dream. His hair was that blurry - an afro. I blinked my eyes twice, hoping to shake off that sight. But whenever I turn to that direction again, I see that blurry .. thing. I blinked my eyes again, hoping to fix my eyesight on something sharper. Wake up from this dream. This is how empty I feel everyday. I close my eyes all the time, hoping to wake up from this dream. This empty, yet full dream. When I close my eyes, I see all these wonderful things. Me squirting out my acrylic paint on my palette, then loading my brush and laying the colors on a canvas. I see myself having a life, a future in college. A sustainable job, a job to support myself. And if lucky enough - a family. Then I open my eyes. And all the hope's gone. Disappointment. Devastation. I saw that coming. But I keep trying everyday, hoping this wasn't real. It won't even sound real to anybody else. People will think this is over-exaggeration. But it's not. Convincing is impossible.

And there come the weird signs. I laid my painting (of an old tree. it tells a story. of depression.) on this elevated area on my wall. 10 seconds after that, it falls. I tried twice again. It falls again. I tried placing it on the top of a slanted chair. It stayed for forever. I have no idea why - but I feel like this has to do with life. With the Earth. You cannot just keep this environment and atmosphere the same. Flat all the way. Pollution, global warming, greenhouse effect, everything that's destroying the Earth (the elevated flat area on my wall). We have to make a change, quick. We have to improve our ways of living. Conserve conserve conserve (the slanted top). I know, this probably sounds silly. Its just hard to explain.

I let that go and moved on to reading my book. Flipping through the pages, this boring book about bringing up babies, Boys Don't Cry. Coincidentally, my eyes lingered on the pages every time I reach a page that end with 5. That happened 3 times in a row. After that, my eyes lingered on the pages that end with 4. 3 times after that, my eyes lingered on the pages that with 3, 2, 1. They're like signs showing that time is ticking by. Time is passing by, quick. Time is running out. Then it lingered to pages with ends like 9, 8, and 7. The cycle went on and on.
..
Then it struck me. Time is running out. Time is passing by. Time is ticking by. But God's giving us a chance, starting the countdown again. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, wait for the crash - it doesn't come. It starts back to 9, 8, 7. God's giving us a chance. God's giving us a chance. God's giving us a chance. Don't waste it. What if He decides He's given too many chances? \
Oh great, now I sound silly. And I'm tearing. Yes. WHY DON'T THIS EVER SOUND RIGHT? IT SOUNDS SILLY ALL THE TIME I TRY TO TELL SOMEONE.

The only reason I write this on my blog - not on a journal or anything - is because I'm pretty sure there's only one person reading this. & that person might not even know me. I'm this class joker, this goof-ball at school. But no, reality isn't like that.