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| I finally finished the move.
http://sparklefreeze7.wordpress.com
drop by, leave a note.
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| I wanted to switch the blog over to Wordpress since they really have better technical support there.. Then I realised, Xanga doesn't have the option to export past entries. Resorting to a RSS export or XML solution is beyond my tech capabilities. That's how I resorted to the painstaking process that is manual cut and paste. That, is a mistake. I am nuts to embark on this. Looking back, I've kept this blog since my JC days. We're really looking at 7 years worth of entries. It's quite a number to be honest. And I think I'm barely done with moving 10%.
The urge to write came earlier this week, and I did write despite the current situation of relocating. Then, the urge hit again earlier tonight. I was half tempted to blog, but satisfied myself with a lengthy comment on a fellow gamer's new blog entry. It's 7.20am and I haven't slept a wink last night. I'm not sure what I'm feeling at the moment, but recently I really haven't been able to distinguish feelings and thoughts from one another.
I thought about why I am so adamant over keeping the old entries and making sure they were being moved to the new blog. Reading the old entries, the subtle changes are easy to see. The blog's saw me through so many relationships, so many hard times, so many celebrations.. It's more than a blog to me; in a sense, it is my one true friend. Though it might be unfair to people who care about me to say this, but I've never been able to tell anyone everything.. except in my writing.
Writing helps me see truths, helps me retain truths in their original form. You see, life bears down hard on me. Some mistakes, some decisions, some desires, haven't been all that good to me. Call it lying if you will, but sometimes, I need to make truths more forgiving on myself. Over time, this is what I will remember, but the blog, the blog knows otherwise. And it keeps me sane at night. I love and hate the nights; it's a sweet torture I revel in.
I can't give it up. I'm not over it. The night that's just gone, I haven't been thinking. It was more of flashes that came back to haunt. The night whispers many secret fears into my ears; they go straight to the pit of the heart., sinking. I wish.. I believed.. But I am more damaged than you could ever imagine. I am not naive to think I could be understood, and sympathy is too passive an emotion to be of difference. I need to be needed. It grounds me. And when someone says to me, we could pretend to.. because reality is such we could never actually need another.. I hoped it's a lie. But I know, more than that which could be a lie.. is some other lie my mind recognises, but the heart only too eager to look pass.
Words hurt so much these days. I've heard too much of the unspoken. They keep me up at night, waiting for tears the hang heavy inside the lids.. churning.. angry.. refusing to relinquish that last bit of pride and power. When I'm doing nothing.. I'm holding it all back as best as I can.
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| He said to me, 'Give up one dream for another.'
In one moment, I recognized the empathy.
In the next, I understood his resignation.
I could not utter a response.
I fear, I lie to myself about feeling.
Perhaps it is but a link to a worth.
Perhaps it is reason enough.
You encapsulate a bestowed truth.
He said, 'You're like the rose under a glass bell.'
I didn't and still don't like roses.
I reject what is meant to be for more.
He was all I could and couldn't hold on to.
I said to me, 'Give up one dream for another.. Please.'
She asked.. Which?
Because dreams are all but many dreams in one..
And giving.. and up.. mean different things together and not.
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Driving in the mornings can be uber relaxing. Had this really loud; am sure it vibrated every cell in my body, my car too lol. But wow, I went to 140km/hr today before I realised from how the steering started to require effort. Still, I love the mornings and sunrises. Just because it's pretty and really peaceful. Don't start on the hope symbolism crap. I'm simple when it comes to liking things; they just need to look pretty.
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| I get strapped in to watch it die. It's slow, agonizingly so. Nothing I can do but watch. Try really hard to unfocus my vision; make it all a big blop of blur. Sound's still there but sing a song in my head and problem's solved. It can't be stopped can it. What else left but to watch the life flicker out entirely. I am strapped in. I watch it die. Time never stops and descent only goes faster and faster. There's a certainty at the very bottom. I should like it. But maybe I hope. That's too hopeful a word though. I just want an alternative ending. Dream on and on. I am strapped in to watch it end with a very loud thud. There is no sequel.
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