Psychic Metamorphosis

I have been worn down by recent events, but somehow, the realisation that I have come into my own helps to take some of the edge off. Something has changed. Well, that's nothing new, but I have always viewed myself as immutable, unchanging even though the world ripples with evolution and metamorphosis around me. I have so stubbornly fought against that same tide of change, but I guess this is one battle that I cannot win. Therefore I have decided to surrender myself to the pull of the current, riptides and all. If I drown, so be it. I have spent the past eighteen years fighting endless battles against demons both within and without, and now I am exhausted. Perhaps the same holds true for the rest of humanity. I do not know, and right now I do not think I care very much. I drifted in and out of troubled sleep last night, but this time I silenced my instincts. I didn't have to wander the streets to sense the cloying stress and despair that cloaked the night. My appetite has dwindled away to nothing, and my mind is dull and sluggish. The master of illusions has finally been defeated, and I have no more tricks hidden in my sleeves, no ace to pull out of thin air. Today is Wednesday, and I believe by now, he already knows of my decision. It has been three days, and my absence has already sparked a new winter. The rippling frost will freeze all that I hold dear, and for once, I do not believe my warmth can stave the chill. But recent events have changed me. My fiery nature has been tempered by time and experience, and this I believe is an evolution in itself. So rah-rah and all that, but on this fine morning, as the sun limps along in the gray and foggy sky, I begin to think the ends do justify the means. The roses in the garden were wilted the last time I saw them, on the day of the fiasco, and while I privately mourned the death of the bloodred blooms, I saw it as a fitting monument to the impermanence of life itself. Who is to say that one day a person wouldn't be mourned in the same way? A soul as beautiful as a rose, yet the physical self deteriorated away to nothing, while the scent lingers on in the air. I have witnessed death in many forms, yet I have also celebrated life in all its glory. These things come hand in hand, as do the seasons. We cannot have one without the other, this is a lesson in balance that all of us need to learn. Today I am cold and barren, as I have been so the past few days. I know the angels that walk among us will extend a hand when we are at our most vulnerable, and my need for protection and reassurance pains me. I am teetering on the edge of a meltdown, and I hope that he understands I am not vanishing yet again. Never that. I just need time to sort out the mess. And hopefully, by the time this all blows over, I will have evolved yet again. Evolution isn't a one-time thing, at least not for me. *sigh* My psychic twin has attempted to reach me, but circumstances were against us. When is it ever not? These bright spots dance at the edge of my vision: all these people trying so hard to reach me and pull me out of my dark shell. Very well, I shall accede to their request. One message strengthened by many voices. I will step out of my high tower and live again. But this evolution will come with a hefty price, one which right now I am more than willing to pay.
Gabriel, old friend. Have you forsaken me?

Psychic Fatigue

I have taken my rest, but my soul remains weary. I scent danger coming, and I believe my reputation precedes itself, at least where familial ties are concerned. I have spent the last five...no, six years now, defending myself. My very values, the very components that make up who I am have been called into question. My skills, my talent, my gift with words...I considered giving them up yesterday. My passion for music, as I sat staring at the keys, watching the shadows elongate across the room in proportion to the passage of time...I contemplated just giving up. My dad hits closer to the bone than he knows. I do have a tendency to vanish from sight, particularly when I am troubled. Right now, the world, at least the part I'm in, has begun to stir from a restful slumber. I have been suppressing a raging headache, and I think my defenses, mental and emotional, are already worn thin. Light peeks through the darkened skies, but I believe hope has ceased to exist within my heart. If this is what time and experience brings, I want no part of it. I wish to retain my innocence, childish and idealistic they may be. I may be condemned a million times over, but I want to protect the remnants of a heart too often shattered and trampled upon. I have spent the many hours since the family fiasco crying, thinking, reflecting. Only three people now share the dubious honour of having seen me cry. Back to the point. The rift has deepened, and for some reason, I believe it will not heal for some time to come. I can do nothing to speed the healing process, except keep my distance. Yet it has been said that it is this very thing that caused the wound in the first place: my distancing myself. It is a very damning thing to be unable to trust. I recognise that I have every reason to be mistrustful. There are things cluttered in my history that till today I fear to examine. I have always been communicating through impersonal mediums, and even now, when I have grown past the shy, silent stage, I cannot express myself to another person. I am afraid of what the immediate future holds. I keep within my breast many secrets that could tear my world apart, should these secrets come to light. Being their guardian, am I condemned to an eternity of darkness? My soul seeks respite from these constant battles, yet I cannot find the rest that I so desperately need. My body aches from that fight, though I am loathe to admit it. My entire torso screams with every move I make. Each moment that passes only serves to increase my doubt that the storm will blow over soon. Perhaps the climate has changed permanently. In which case, I, a free spirit, must soon make preparations for yet another migration. No one will tell me what rippled outwards from the explosion I was involved in, therefore I have no way of telling what the shards and shrapnel pierced. Perhaps they tore away the veil of illusions the people around me have been gazing at all this while. Perhaps it is a new path for me, for us all. Or perhaps it could mean the end.

Psychic Assault

The day was bright and cheery...and I let my defenses down. All the mental barriers, the emotional chains that I normally wind tightly around myself...I thought it was a relatively safe day for me to relax, for once. You know? Just breathe in the air from the trees, feel the air cooling as the promised thunderstorm approached. Therein lay my mistake. I allowed my emotions to lull me into a false sense of security, and for that I was assaulted. I am disgusted with myself. My fighting style has degraded into nothing more than light taps instead of the forceful punches I had been taught. I was floored in seconds, but I remembered the steps to this dance. So I danced. Blood flowed freely, mostly mine, but that didn't matter. Adrenaline kept the pain at bay. That was hours ago, and now I am exhausted and I hurt all over. Still, I am skilled in the psychology of the human mind, and even as I returned the physical blows, I launched my own mental and emotional attacks. It worked, and we were swept off to have a 'man to man' talk. He didn't look hurt...if anything, he looked even more worked up. But see, a fighter must always always keep his cool. Fighting is an art, and one that requires more brains than people think. You have to continually be on the lookout for your opponent's weaknesses, for the slightest sign of weariness, then you zoom in for the kill with a simple right-hook or jab. You cannot afford to lose control, because then the fight is lost. Everyone fled from us, the two titans struggling for control. I kept my composure throughout the fight, even when I was unarmed, a serious disadvantage. When we were 'talking', I basically let loose with a flurry of words sharpened like daggers. Those who know me know my stings well enough to respect them when they have the misfortune to incur my wrath. I have been known to create rifts with only my words, and I do not even need to shout or use vulgarities. My forte lies in knowing where each opponent's weakness lies. I am proud, because I stuck by my guns, stood up for myself with the "I'm gay, so what?" speech. It's worth all the ouches on my body for that one moment when the realisation that I cannot be altered in any way begins to flower. We fought from 1pm all the way to 6pm, alternating between physical altercations, and verbal jabs on my part that surely must have hurt worse than any physical blow I could have given. Then at the door, as I was preparing to leave for the last time, unable to take their outdated views on my homosexuality, he caught my arm and held my gaze...and said something that cut through the burning fires in my heart. He said the three words that I've come to despise so much, the one that to me signifies weakness. "I love you." In that one instant, something in my heart just clicked. I swear my heart went pop. I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next, but I dropped my bags, stepped forward, and hugged him. Really hugged him, not just one arm around the neck nonsense. And he did the last thing I expected him to do. He cried in my arms, and I felt my heart break. It was bizzare. From six straight hours of arguing, fighting, testing each other's martial arts, he was now weeping in my arms. This man, whom I have never seen crying in the past 18 years, was now doing so in my arms. I can't even begin to identify what I was feeling then, as I held him, sobbing in my arms. The barriers, which had been building up over the years, just collapsed. As if tears were stronger than swords and guns, and I opened my heart to feel an emotion I never thought I could for this man. In that instant, I realised that no matter where I flew to in this world, I would only have one man to call "Father." Not to get into that whole confusing issue with my other dad, but I've lost that one. This man was crying in my arms, telling me how I had never hugged him since I was four. I remembered so clearly then how he had tried to shower me with love. His words echo eerily in my head. "You're always hiding. How far are you going to run? Where are you going to run to? We will always be here, you know." My heart broke just that little bit more, and I felt tears falling from my own eyes. Ever since I was a boy, I have never been able to tell anyone in person how I feel. Not face to face, not with our eyes and gazes locked. I can't. I can do so here, through impersonal mediums, but I have never said so much as an 'I love you' to anyone else. But as I held him close, and he cried, I whispered, "You're my dad. You always have been." That made him cry even more. "I thought I lost you. I prayed every day, and today you've finally come back. You hugged me." I didn't realise he'd seen that I didn't know how to acknowledge him. "When people ask me, 'how many children do you have?' I always say three. Three. You're my eldest son." I was trying not to cry and failing terribly. All I could do was stand there and hug him tightly, whispering, "I'm sorry." And then he said the words I know I will cherish for the rest of my life. He rubbed my back, and sobbed, "You will always be my son. I love you no matter who you are or what you do." I've gained my father at last. He was always there, in the shadows, unseen but felt. I realised I need to come to terms with my issues, why I can't accept emotion or love. But then, in his arms, I felt like a little boy again, hugging my father for all I was worth. His last words to me as I walked out into the rain, crying, were, "Come back again. Please." He wanted me to come home. And all this time I thought I was not welcome there. There's a flipside. In the midst of the battle, my mother stormed off and right now she's really pissed with me. I have a raging headache, my entire body is one solid ache, and I'm still crying three hours later. I have never felt this emotion before. Is this what children feel for their parents? I can't describe it. I feel closer to him than I have in years, and I have never cried for him. I'm not crying for me. I'm crying for this man who has never, in the past eighteen years, stopped trying to connect with me. And today, we made a major breakthrough. I don't know whether I'm crying because I'm sad and hurting, or because I'm elated that I've finally found a stable father figure to call my own. I may have lost my mother because of this. I don't know. I need sleep, and tomorrow I will be going over to sort through this mess that we've ignored for the past few years. I hurt all over. I have to sleep, and hopefully the wounds will close and fade. But each one is a step closer to that family I have always wanted, but never dared to wish for. It was a simple gesture...most people probably don't bat an eyelid at hugging someone else, or being hugged. But for my father and I, it might just have changed our world.

Psychic Uplift

Two days of darkness were no match for the angel who has never failed to heal me and wipe my tears away. So many times, when I was ill, or in pain, he tended to me, held my hand and comforted without question. For that, I am grateful. I sealed myself off, and coincidentally, my cellphone died out at the same time. Tomorrow is yet another day of hectic activity. It is unbelievable how listening to his voice as he murmured words of comfort can ease the burning pain in my heart. I feel so much better, even though we spoke for less than ten minutes. We made plans to play badminton with a few ex-classmates. My phone's being resurrected tomorrow, and I have decided to go home and print out some musical scores and bang on my piano after I'm done doing what I was supposed to have done three days ago. Whew. Say that three times fast. I took a much-needed break and slept the whole day away. Now freshly fed and watered, I feel ready to take on whatever's coming up next. I've decided to take up the offer of friendship, and I'm going out with people I've known for years, but have not met up with recently. The whirlwind of emotions has calmed down to a gentle breeze, and I think this calls for a celebration.
Thanks, Kenneth.

Psychic Loss

It has been a stupid week, but today's events took the cake. Top in my list of 'worst day ever'. Some small part of my mind is hammering away, going, "Why? Whywhywhywhy?" Another part is going, "You were stupid to have waited for so long." Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that drained me so much, but when I idly sifted through pages of the present, and the information jumped out in my face...my heart shattered. I felt it accelerate, then cease beating altogether. My already sleep-deprived mind numbed itself. I felt like a zombie, and I know it's my defense mechanism at work, that automatic function that kicks in when I'm vulnerable. So what if it's been 3 years? I do not love easily, but I do with great strength. I need Kenneth now more than ever, I need someone to tell me why I've lost so many men I considered central figures in my life. Yeah, so what if I've grown up to be a man in my own right? That doesn't mean I can't foster relations with other men. Does it? I don't know. It has been 18 years now. And I have not learnt how to trust another person. It hurts. Mostly because I know the problem lies with me. I cannot trust another person implicitly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have that uneasy voice that whispers that they could leave at any moment. If I could take back all the pain that I've caused to those I care about, those who care about me in turn, I would without hesitation. But see, that's the thing about time. It is a one-way street, and I've missed my turnaround. Is it because I couldn't trust, is that why these men that I consider so important in my evolution have left? Days, weeks...what does it matter? Time has no meaning for me. I know I cannot change the past, and I have no faith for the future. All I can do is live in the present, and weep bloody tears for a history only I care to remember. Fate crossed our paths, and it left a deep wound in my heart. It was not the intertwining of two souls that hurts me; it is our bitter parting. Is it possible for me to close my eyes and not awaken to the constant pain that is my sole companion every single day? The pain sears my heart tonight. I spent an hour in the toilet, trying to drown out the memories and imagining that each droplet of water is a magical eraser capable of erasing my mistakes and my pain. Can I make a prayer, condemned as I am? Perhaps in the cosmic scheme of things...the Big Guy up there truly despises gay people, sees us as mistakes, and therefore this is my penance. I heard a line that really hit me today. "If you let someone into your heart, you leave the door open for any one else to come in." I cannot begin to describe how much I hate this frailty that accompanies a broken heart. And to be honest, c'est ridiculous, non? After three years, and I'm still painfully in love. I tried to believe that it was love, and not stubborn stupidity that held my heart in an iron grip. I project an image of playful flirtatious fun, but deep inside, I believe I will love no other. There should only be one father, one mentor, one lover, one half to a person. And I have lost each and every single man that has ever mattered to me. I am capable of hiding my emotions, although tonight the lack of sleep compounded with my emotional pain sent me into a sluggish state. I have the entire weekend, but then again...who's keeping time? I'll just crawl up into my corner and drown in the sea of lovely memories.

Psychic Lethargy

The night has receded, and the skies are a cloudy gray. My throat has been burning all night, and I've resigned myself to the fact that I have lost both mentor and father. Today I can finally leave. Not that I hate it here, it's just awkward and I'm tired of skirting around everything. Having triggered a minor firestorm over the weekend, I allayed the fears of those around me, but I couldn't reach him when it mattered. Not much I can do about it anymore. And after two years, I'm just too tired. I will be back home soon, in the realm where I am king. In the place where exquisite beauty is crafted from darkness, where I can draw on my sources for inspiration and strength. There is no guarantee that I'll ever see him in such close proximity again, and this applies to both men that I have lost. Perhaps there will be occasional brushes when our paths cross, but I'm not holding my breath. Funny. I've been looking forward to today, the day when I'm finally able to leave this graveyard where good memories come to die, yet I feel no elation at my freedom. People scoff when birds refuse to leave their cages, but I finally understand why. In the relative safety of their cages, there is security. Everyone is still slumbering, the cats are slinking around the house quietly with the natural grace of predators, and I find myself coughing and sniffling and feeling sorry for myself. I have never felt worse, but still the show goes on. My weariness goes so much deeper. *sighs* It is a gloryless morning that surrounds me today, but for once my senses are still. The need for rest is great, but there are other commitments that I must fulfil today. I have allowed things to come to this, and now it is time for me to decide what I can actually fix and what has been damaged beyond repair.
My muses are no match for reality.

Psychic Sign

Give me a sign, anything. Just a breath, and I'll fly away. All I need is a sign. Like a migratory bird waiting for the first sign of frost, I will soar away in search of warmth. Damn if I search for it in all the wrong places. My heart screams for peace, even if it is momentary. I'll scream if I cannot still the fires raging throughout my being, consuming me, burning me to cinders. Rage, anger, these emotions' fiery nature cuts off my air. I cannot breathe. I cannot turn to angels, therefore I have resigned myself to seek comfort in demons. The darkest demon beckons, and like a puppet whose strings are invisible, I will come. I will come. To the only one who sees past the illusions I weave, for the one person who sees the flaws and cracks of my heart, sees me for who I am as a whole. Not some playful free spirit, not the rebellious teenage boy, not the gifted but directionless kid. ME. Damn it all. I have fallen, and this time I cannot pull myself out. I'll fly straight into his arms. I do not want advice, I do not want anything but blind comfort. The stage is set, the actors are in place. I have come to realise that I reveal too much of myself, too much information is disseminated through the various mediums that I use to communicate. Information that I know can come back to haunt me. I have enough spirits to deal with. Therefore I will not write out what precisely is troubling me. I'll just keep hiding myself behind these monumental walls that have built up over the years. Baby sat on my lap as the sun came up this morning, and he purred when the tears fell. I was not drunk. No. The bottle was calling to me, but for once, I ignored its call and instead watched the sun light up the horizon. Now my fires have been rekindled, and I seek the one who can tame them, and in turn, tame me.
Save me.

Psychic Flight

I feel as though I can join the sun in its celestial dance. Certainly I am more than a match for it in terms of warmth and light. My heart feels so light...I can scarcely believe the abrupt turn my life has taken. My mentor is well and glad to hear from me. We've promised to keep in contact, and I cannot tell you how much this means to me. It appears that my vow to surround myself with inspirational sources has served me well. I can walk the streets as one initiated into the ways of darkness, yet keep a seed of bright spark within me. I want my mentor to see how I've grown. I'm no longer the scared little boy afraid of everything that was foreign to me. I have grown into the man I believe I was meant to be, bold and capable of giving as good as I get. This evolution cannot be described in words, that would be doing it an injustice. Anyway, we sorted through a few things, and he made me promise him that I wouldn't let him down. Not many people will make the connection between who I am, and who I used to be. He is one of the few who actually witnessed the transformation, and that itself has created an immutable bond. But more than that, I feel as though I can actually take on the world. It is always hard for a child full of hopes and dreams and ideals to make the transition into manhood and reality. It's all about balance, really. I can sense the winds turning in my favour, can scent the way change is in the air. Soon it will be time for me to spread my wings, and I do not doubt my ability to take flight. I will be up where I belong. =) Perhaps all roads do lead to Rome after all. I have also come to terms with the fact that it was I who ended the relationship that we were both trapped in. Perhaps it is all for the best. Our paths may cross again in the future, and I hope our respective freedom brings contentment for both of us. I have two extra years to contemplate what kind of man I will be, and I already know what I don't want to be. And that's a start. I'm resuming/starting classes in May, and I hope the sins of my past will not tarnish the clean slate I have now. =)
Thank you for healing my heart.

Psychic Mentor

Recent events have forced me to turn around and examine my history. It is a dark and winding path that my mind simply refuses to revisit, yet there are certain key events that I've buried deep within me; it is these demons that I must face and banish for good. But I am not foolish enough to believe my reasons for coming back are entirely altruistic. No, I have accepted that I need his guidance, something I have long forgotten, his warmth, his eternal comfort. Yet the question remains...will he still be there? *tilts head* I do not think I will be able to handle the shock if I find the last link to my dark and unhappy history is gone. I have not been there in slightly over four years. Too much might have changed, and if he is truly gone, I will have learnt yet another harsh lesson in life: don't wait too long. I have waited for far too long to face these demons from my past, been too caught up in the new life I've woven for myself. Nonetheless, the time has come for me to step up to the plate. I will place that call tomorrow. I feel panic bubbling up from within me. What if he's gone? It's been so long. I have experience with the people from that side, and while I know they are entirely uncooperative to the point of rudeness, I will endure their acid sarcasm, if only to know that he is still where he should be. Some things are constant, like the sun in the sky, et cetera. But if he has truly departed...I will never forgive myself for not having checked sooner. He was my mentor, he is my mentor, my teacher, my friend. If he is gone, then perhaps it is a sign that I've finally grown up to be a man, and therefore must be mentor, teacher, and friend to someone else who needs guidance the way I did. But as I clasp my hands in prayer by my bedside tonight, I pray to whichever angel who will listen not to let him go. Not yet. There is so much more that I need to say, so much that I've never had the courage to say. It is useless to run the whole gamut of emotions tonight, when I have yet to ascertain his fate and position in life. I will wait until tomorrow. All I can do now is wait and pray. And if I do find him, I will not let him slip through my fingers again. No. Never.

Psychic Remembrance

I have spent the entire Monday in hibernation, and now I feel completely charged with energy. I can go without sleep for a few days, although my exhaustion afterwards will leave me asleep for a day or two. I've been up all night, going through my old journals. There is a whole box full of my writings and scribblings, thoughts, stories, theories all penned down, immortalised on paper. Perhaps it is a morbid fascination that I have, one for a life long since dead and gone, but when the soft darkness covers me, I believe it is alright for me to read and grieve for all that I had, for all that I've lost. I remember the softness of the sun, when it shone down on two lovers enjoying a walk down the street, the warmth that a simple touch could bring. Even as I type this, the sun fades behind a dark cloud. I am not sad today, and I believe I will not be sad for a long time to come. My handwriting has undergone quite a few transformations. Actually, now that I come to think of it, so has my personality. But let's not dive too deep into memories, shall we? There is always the possibility of drowning. I remember the shadow I used to be, dark and enigmatic. I still retain faint traces of that, the annoying vagueness in my speech and my frequent attempts to fade away. Sometimes I still leave my sentences open to interpretation. Perhaps it is my reclusiveness that alienates people. I believe it does get rather aggravating for my friends sometimes. Recently, however, when the morning sun floods my room with its gentle light, I feel an emotion stir from deep within me. It isn't hope, per se, but a rather close kin. That's enough for me. I have never felt more alive, and I have no regrets regarding my past decisions. I've lived the way I wanted to, a veritable free spirit. I did it my way. I've always loved Ol' Blue Eyes. I type with my head bowed, and I imagine that I may look every part like the fallen angels I once sympathised with. This latest ordeal has taught me, however, that redemption is sought and fought for, not given freely. The fallen may never rise, for they have no reason to. My memories...while they were recorded in tears of blood, they serve the purpose of strengthening my spirit enough so that I may walk one more day in the light of the sun. And that is purpose enough. I believe I will tap into my current burst of optimism to master several piano pieces.
Was I such a bad person? Spirits from the past, hold your tongues.

Psychic Levitation

I may fall to my knees, but it goes no further than that. After much reflection, I decided that it is time I came clean with myself. I have lived a life of lavish extravagance, one I have taken for granted. Time is irrelevant to me, I do what I wish when I wish. This has afforded me the luxury of delving into topics both arcane and mundane, mind-bending and mind-numbing, scattered broadly across many subjects. Having travelled many paths, both metaphorically and literally, I realised today that I am tied down by nothing else but my own limitations. True, external factors may bar my paths now and again, but it is largely my choice where I go or what I do. It has always been so, and I will work to ensure that it remains that way. This realisation came in bits and pieces, a gradual awakening of the sensible part of my mind that I believed to be non-existent. After all, I am known as the kid who builds castles in the air and one who lives on hopes and dreams. I didn't need caustic advice from ill-advised persons, or suggestions on what could have been done to avoid such a situation. The deed is done, and I am tired of explaining myself. The reasons are many and varied, but to me, together they make up a whole picture that was logical for such a move on my part. Therefore I will not waste my breath explaining yet again why I have decided to take such an abrupt turn. The only thing I can do now is see where the road will take me. As joyous celebration erupts around me, I content myself with sitting in the darkness and contemplating what lies ahead for me. I've never been one to take the conventional path, and perhaps one day, I may rest in peace knowing I lived my life forging my own road, but that day is still far away. This isn't a mistake; it is an opportunity for me to prove my worth. The dawn draws ever closer, and I can almost feel the sun's breath warming the cold, still night. Yet my mind is active with solutions. I am surprised at how quickly I've recovered from this latest blow. Perhaps it is yet another reminder of how much I have changed in the span of a year. My mind is still busy sifting through all that I've experienced, drawing on a wealth of knowledge to plot an alternative route. This could very well be the turning point in my otherwise monotonous life. I have grown weary of being the only one. A hurdle remains, though. I have not heard from my parents, and the silence is keeping me on edge. *grimaces* While I was looking at my sheet music, wondering if my effort over the years will bear fruit on such barren territory, a thought flickered through my mind. Have I ever looked past the illusory smiles and sanguine words to see what lay underneath? Those who heard me play almost always mentioned the word 'talent'. Ladies and gentlemen, what exactly constitutes talent? What distinguishes it from mere practice? Is a man who reads broadly considered more intelligent than his peers? More worldly, perhaps? This is the key point of my sudden attack of the nerves. Talent, or long hours of practice at your chosen craft? Nonetheless, I've always risen above whatever chains me down. Levitation, the pseudo-scientific community likes to call it. And if I succeed in this, I will consider it the most magnificent levitation I have achieved so far. The two Davids (Blaine and Copperfield) pale in comparison. I will keep in mind the spirit of the Phoenix, eternal immortal flame, pillar of warmth and hope. It dies and gets reborn. I have been too careless with my abilities, and now I suppose it is high time I paid the price for that. This expense will not go unheeded, though. I will not allow all my mistakes, my past history to weigh me down. Each will serve to lift me just that bit higher. And rise I shall, from the ashes and ruins of the destruction I myself had brought down. Despair shall not cloak me in its suffocating embrace. I refuse to bow down.
The strength of an angel in the heart of a man.

Psychic Scrutiny

I will be under intense scrutiny these coming weeks. My skills, my intellect, everything that I have ever fought to be who and where I am today, will all be for naught if I let up for even a moment. All will be meticulously studied for cracks or flaws, and for once, I must trust in myself, have faith in my abilities and allow the tides of luck to turn for the better. I have no time to even feel pressured, though I know very well by now I ought to be panicking. But when my mind is so occupied, I have no time for such trivial emotions. Panic has never been high on my list. Inspiration must surround me at all times, and therefore I have constructed an elaborate schedule that leaves no room for mistakes. I am at a serious disadvantage, truth be told. I must take my skills to a higher level, and to do that I must first correct flaws in my techniques. I have no time for compliments, or saccharine words. I must be flawless, I must be magnificent. Nothing short of the best, and not to sound like a spoiled brat (heaven forbid), I am focused on getting this. The odds do not favour me, I concede on that score, but I believe anything is possible. I won't wax lyrical about the possibilities hope and wishes can bring, for the progression of time has encouraged the flower of cynicism to bloom within my heart. The only thing I can count on now are my lessons, and the depth of my soul which must must must come across in my playing. I must not get too cocky, for that has been my downfall in ages past. I cannot allow for slip-ups. Tomorrow evening, I will be spearheading a few more business deals, and scheduling my auditions for the coming weeks. I have no time for 'what ifs'. But you know what? Reality sucks big time. So let's all have a Coke and a big smile and shut the hell up. I have to sweep them off their feet on the big day. When I sit in front of that piano, regardless of whether it's an old soul or a brand spanking new grand model, I must not falter even once. I have to get my act together. So for the coming weeks, I predict I will be oscillating between periods of extreme darkness and moments of extreme bright (sometimes annoyingly) chirpiness. Both of which are indicative of passion, so never mind that. I get the feeling I'm going into babble-mode, so I'll cut things short. One, I must improve. Two, there is no room for mistakes in the situation I've gotten into. Three, I'm getting out of this loop and facing up to my past decisions. Actions may speak louder than words, but for me, it is the words that inspires my actions. So from now until my own personal version of Doomsday (a week after Feb 9th) I must surround myself with inspiration from every imaginable source.
Don't let me be found wanting.

Psychic Conversion

It appears that the sandman has given me a generous dusting of nightmares to accompany me tonight. So while the rest of the world slumbers peacefully, I'm left to fight my personal demons. There is no respite for me, even in sleep, for I am haunted no matter what I do. Frustration is roaring up from deep inside me like a powerful wave that threatens to consume me. So tonight...or this morning, if you want to be so facetious about my phrasing, I will be doing a lot of thinking. The skies are completely obscured by clouds. The heavens hold no beauty for me tonight, and I feel my mood is mirroring what I see. Darkness and obscurity would be the two principal words. Dawn is a breath away, and I know the sun's warm touch will give me a headache. Perhaps it is a subconscious reaction to the passage of time, since the sun's rebirth every morning signals yet another day that I've wasted. I miss Kenneth's comfort, and Seif's upbeat attitude. Well, if I recall my Physics lessons correctly...energy can neither be stopped nor created. It can only be converted from one form to another. So allow me the grace to transform my current darkness into light. My words have at times, been the sword that plunged into the hearts of those I care about. In recent times, I've taken to biting my tongue instead of hurting them. There are also times, when my words inspire buds to bloom, and flowers to blossom amongst weeds. Words have the power to hold darkness at bay (especially if spoken in Latin. Heehee) and I will now tap into that to try and hold off what I feel until my barriers fall down again. I will not give up. All hope is not yet lost. I must place my faith in my skills, and my ability to draw and create music from my piano. I have time, though it is limited, and I can no longer afford the luxury of frittering it away without considering the values I can draw from it. Every moment I spend away from the keyboard, from the piano, is a minute away from my dream. It is akin to taking a step back for every minute I do not spend pursuing what I truly feel and believe in. Therefore, I have resolved to spend every waking minute at the keys. Why, you may ask, am I still here then? Well, I am savouring the last few moments of darkness before the sun steals up on morning and cruelly rips the calmness from the world. I will not consider the possibility of failure. All of you who know me, be warned. I will not listen to recriminations and pleas to think twice. I'm cranking the engine to full throttle, it's full speed ahead, baby! To hell with all those who scoffed at my dreams, to hell with the people who believe only in sciences and reality and cold hard facts. I am a person who defies both logic and reality. If I have to play my way through life with only my twinkling fingers, so be it. I will not be trapped in my idealistic views and allow the rest of the world to suppress the dreams that I have, that of furthering music for both myself and for the people around me, to nurture that spark, that love for music present in every child, every man, every woman. Reality is what you make of it, and so far I've been blessed with incredible luck. Given opportunities at every moment. I have not exploited this yet, so be forewarned. I will do everything I can to get somewhere. I may not have reached the standards of the great masters of music, but damn it, I can play. Like English, I may not know the difference between an adjective or a verb, but I can write. I do not know the technicalities, but why is that a limitation? I will level every mountain in my way, and should a boulder fall down and crush me, I will only have to look at these words I have written to blast it to smithereens. The dawn is cold, but it appears my inner fire has been rekindled and I feel only warmth. Now if only that darned sun would continue slumbering...*muses* I will be off now. The muses of music beckon, and who am I to resist their siren call? *shrugs*
Give me a purpose in life, and I'll make you proud.

Psychic Rumination

The night has drawn all the light out of my soul. It has been four days since my last post, and in that short span of time, the world as I know it appears to have undergone a horrific transformation. Even as dawn approaches, I know the sun's rays will not warm my chilled flesh. I fear I have gone too far this time. The ramifications of my actions were considered only after the deed was done. I am drowning in darkness, and when even the sun fails to burn these mists of shadow away, who can save me? I imagine if I were to touch the flowers that I secretly cherish so, they would wither and die. I cannot face the demons that I have helped to bring to life. I cannot fight what I have had a hand in creating. I failed to understand the gravity of my actions. And now when the Piper asks for his payment, my only wish is to fade away into obscurity. Let me fade away. The following weeks will be painful for those around me. This much I know will be true. For once, I have not looked up at the heavens in their nightly splendour. When the wind caressed my cheek, I turned away. Now I sit in silent misery as the darkness swallows up all the light and goodness. I have miscalculated before, I have lost many gambles. These losses still pain me so, although I am so good at masking my emotions that at times I can fool myself into feeling no pain. These mental barriers are falling apart now. When the sun is high in the sky today...where will I be? The question still haunts me, following me doggedly like a second shadow. The very air that I breathe feels clotted and heavy, and it makes me feel devoid of all hope. The distance continues to grow every day. While I may make no mention of it, every day that passes scars my heart. Each moment to come threatens to break me. My darkness was enough to alarm several people, and while I was surprised, I believe that was the only emotion that touched me. The rest of the emotions blew past me like wisps of winds to signal the coming storm. Those who read my words regularly, those who know me...will know that storms usually delight me. But this storm that is heading my way will be the end of me, I fear. In the past five years, since Jeremy, I have evolved, I have changed, I have grown. I have experienced feelings I never thought existed, my skills on the piano and with the pen have reached a calibre I never thought was possible for me. I am no longer afraid to reach back through time and touch on memories that have frightened me for years. I no longer fear my macabre dreams. Yet...I find myself at the end of the line. My evolution is complete, my heart has experienced all that I believe it can take, and now I wish to bring the remnants of it with me to my grave. I cannot be tied down by limitations; I am too much of a free spirit. I would rather end things on my terms, rather than be driven to my death by forces beyond my control. These words spill out so easily...yet they are formed from the depths of my soul. Only an idiot would be unable to decipher the meaning behind such vague, obscure words. I contemplate what I have done in my life, and truly, I would rather be the shooting star and live a few moments bathed in glory before going out with a bang than be a static yet boring permanent fixture. I really wish I could find something, anything to restore my spark which has fizzled out so abruptly. But between now and dawn, I doubt an angel would come down from the heavens to touch a mere mortal's life. Perhaps it would have been better if we'd never met. That sentence is open for interpretation. As am I. I am beyond comprehension, even to myself.
Sermonen finire.

Psychic Shift

The eclipse that shadowed me has passed, and now I am content to bask in the warmth of the sun's glow again. Having shoved all confusion and worry aside, I now feel whole and complete once again. I went to sleep just as the sun flooded the Earth with its healing rays this morning, and awoke at a quarter to five, just in time to drag myself to the bathroom for a long shower and zoom off to Poh Chuan's house after that. The bus ride was straight out of a horror movie. The driver seemed bent on driving over every bump and pothole in our way. Compound that with the fact that the bus was extremely crowded and hot, and you can see why I felt no loss at hopping off the bus soon after. Yiling joined me, and Poh Chuan came down to meet us shortly after. We cabbed down with Gina to the stadium, and joined the crush of humanity that congregated outside the gates. I saw a cute guy who caught my eye. *grins* He looked oddly familiar, and I swear that is the only reason why I looked at him in the first place. Then it was on to the main event...that game I can never completely comprehend. I was internally bubbling over with laughter when everyone else kept cheering and stomping their feet, wondering why they were so odd. Then something magical happened! I was caught up in the wave of energy that exuded from the spectators. It was so thick, you'd think the air itself had solidified to form a jelly-like consistency. I was swept away by the moment. There is something magical about being present at a place where the very air is charged with anticipation. I soaked it all up like a sponge. =) Had fun watching the match, and I actually laughed when the Thailand team walked off the pitch near the end. They probably knew they would lose anyway, and wanted to end it on their own terms. My broodiness vanished when the sea of red around me rose up in a thunderous roar and made me feel small and insignificant, yet so much more alive. The wave of darkness was washed away and replaced by a surge of energy. After the match ended on a high, we went and explored the backways of Geylang. Aaron sure knows his way around there. *grins* Then we sat at one of the coffeeshops and ate a late supper before breaking up for home. I'm really glad I didn't stay at home and mope the day away. We might be going for a movie on Saturday if everyone's free. And on Sunday...*drumroll* Malay Co! Hee. So the passage of time marks yet change in the seasons of my life. *thoughtful* Although I predict yet another winter will arrive soon. If I don't get into my ideal music school. =) A winter complete with storms and hail and violent tempests, courtesy of me. *winks* Alright. The Dark Age is over, so let there be light! =P I've always wanted to say that. Heh. My world has shifted yet again. =)
Now that Spring is in the air, there are flowers everywhere.