Tuesday, October 30, 2007


There is a silly Phil Collins' song that makes me cry. I probably heard it when I was thirteen and sappy love songs came bundled with puberty.

It just started playing in my room. I haven't heard the song in maybe six years, and my heart suddenly feels heavy.

I am buried under the burden of my ambitions. I live for them. I strive for them. I love living my life. It is an adventure, with me rushing towards colourful dreams. It inspires me and I take every step hoping to face another challenge. But, yes it all balances out at the expense of functional relationships. I never wish to formulate any, for I love a few, I loathe a few and I ignore the rest. It's perfect this way.

But for how long? I deliberately forge discontent in my existence, or I am left with nothing to do. There is nothing missing, yet, I wish for something to miss. I am unhappy because I am happy! Lack of choice brings me to the conclusion that maybe that hated idea of 'love' perhaps exists, but it's too soon to reject my own ideals and notions, I have nurtured so carefully all these years. It's comfortable, its convenient. Everything I do -- action and reaction have a defined purpose and a set priority in the hours of my life. Neither surpasses its utility, but what if I was wrong. What if at twenty-two I have become another song.

You're the only one who really knew me at all
So take a look at me now
Oh there's just an empty space