Living in a glassbowl…

and I’m singing it again…

"there’s just too much that time cannot erase"

No more tides. No more pains. This senseless masochism was finally put to an end. I took it off, as easy as watching a stranger go. But staying alive after an exodus was not as painless as I thought it is, as I thought IT SHOULD BE. Taking it off was like throwing a peace of me to an unfamiliar place and looking back at the remnants of my tattered, shattered self… I am not whole.

I threw a peace of me… on a sea where everybody could be someone else’s fisherman. And I’ll be the one at the losing end, if WAITING shall wane. My mind’s in chaos at a time when I should be already be at ease for something was brought to an end… masochism I chose to call it but something’s dangling in my neck. Hoping is legal and it’s what I mostly treasure now.

Play me another magic trick… and then I shall smile again.

Be there at the finish line… then let me reconsider…

Beauty is fragile. It breaks and it fades as time passes by. It fades as life does. Preferences are made, one blooms as the other dies. These are life’s little tragedies and it feels like I’m gradually reaching that point of creating one. I’m leaving three lives now, a past, a present, and the most tiring of it all, a future. If I am to regret anything, I would only think of one thing, that is, once every moment I’m an all-knowing fortune teller and it has been a very awful curse. We all have the abilities to predict outcomes and at times, instead of helping us out it builds pointless confusions. I know it because, ironic as it may seem, weighing things and predicting outcomes didn’t do me any good, well, at least for now. I wish it’s only for the now.

Once again I’m facing a strange path, a forking path? A labyrinth. Who’s on the other side of the wall? I know her name. Either ways, I know their names. Who’s in the end of the tunnel, it’s all up to me and my ever so unreliable skills. My past and my present are allies and my future, the most inevitable creature in my messed up track, is revealing its “self” to me. It’s beautiful and PRACTICAL. But I don’t think I’ll be able to consider the beauty of pragmatism when the competition lies with the beauty of happiness. And so things are harder now. We all have to live in our presents. We belong to the present. Pasts are pasts and futures are for tomorrow. I kept on telling myself: “Pls. Anna, do yourself a favor, just cross the bridge when you get there.”. My wrong-headedness often conquers my rationality. Nothing happened except for the obvious happening… I’m caught in my own trap. It already stopped raining but I haven’t made my decision yet. I’m asking for signs but it looks like the signs are also lost. Desertion at a time when I least need it. Yesterday they’re for the to and now they’re for the fro. But I guess, we’re better off this way. I’m not ready yet. And I’m surprised, since when did I learn to put so much value on readiness? Oh well, changes… changes…