Mature?

When I get older, whether I like it or not, I spend more time on traffic than ever. Before I know it, I actually spent awfully long time waiting in my life. Doesn't matter if I am waiting for a chance, a time, an event, for a person, or even a machine. For an impatient one to sit down and look for something happen, is actually like telling a little boy to stop fooling around, almost impossible.

A little boy doesn't realize what's inside him that keep pushing him, like having a very bad sleep after a whole day doing extreme sports, the muscles just won't stop. Let's put it on an adult version, fame. Not like money that we can hold it with our hands, fame has its invisible advantage and satisfaction that make us different from others. We can see people honestly admit that they are thirsty for money, but almost no one want to say they pursuit fame unless they are stars. Even so, this word is usually associated with someone big, and ambitious, and to me, it's quite a bad word to describe people.

But my point is we always don't see those we don't want to see, we just lie to ourselves when we've done something we hate. We just look up and go, but we are still doing it.

Like how I used “we” rather “me", I just don't want to see me.

My writing habit

When I try to make myself writing post almost every day, it's amazing to see how I look into things, things that happen so often that I don't normally see. Usually they become the deepest struggle inside me at all time, as I never look things like what they look. I used to be told by that, and everyone does that I am sure, though there isn't any good. Then I also find some habits on my writing, whether I like it or not. See the fact that I seldom describe much about events circling me. The fact that I intensionally changed my writing habit in these few posts, not to put things in front of you, and say you.... or ...yourself. Now I guess that's one step of how I should start facing myself, I am not saying others, it's just me.

For a long enough time, when I am traveling on a trip that is close to Tsuen Wan, or even at some stations and lines on MTR, there's always some misty eyes going around. Once there was that kind of the most important girl in the world, now became a total stranger, even I don't know if she is now still existing. I could only check by adding her in whatsapp temporally, to see her status.

I still remember that once I liked to look at the back when traveling on vehicles like tram, ferry, you know what I mean. Everyone does, right? Regrets, attacca, hopeless, attacca, accept, attacca, smirking. 3rd movement in relative major, others minor.

Another fact is that I write tons of darkness on my post, only if we can weight darkness.

Now I just stay on my life. Anyhow. Time goes, people change. I just know that I didn't die in Sai Kung, means there is something waiting for me. (Tonic PAC)

Looking into a blink of memory

Small white particles landing from far away, deeply in the sky. With street lamps dizzied around the corner of my eyes, the night stays in silent completely black. Just like appearing the first flake of snow, only I've never seen one. The raindrops are so sparkling, to me is just like falling fairies, nicely spinning down in slightly different angles, but never crashes to one another. I try to catch them in my hand, but they simply dance around and settle on my chest, my face, then my nose, my eyes...

This moment would only happens when I really wanted to capture the world, only when I spend my time with that person. For the reason why I absolutely love every piece of these memories, is also the reason why I still believe the earth is a nice place to be. They say you need to praise God for His creations, from the most beautiful and astonishing nature and space, to the smallest lively insects and smells. But then, how many of us actually care about that? How often we really look deep inside His work of art? What I can capture is only these piles of memories, a blink of eye.

Walking through small path alone, surrounded by woods and other creatures, put myself away from any people at least 10 miles away. Like a hero going on adventure, like a man chasing his dream, like a person going for an important thing, like a baby desiring for milk, like someone being dumped.

This is my mind, wishing I can be this hero forever, but also hungry for having the most important thing, I am impatient like a baby, and sometimes feel like stupid.. Everyone would like to know what I am thinking or how am I doing, but then, how am I going to answer?

For this year

I write my life only when I am quite boring. I also write when I get really confused, like how the traffic jams between Western and Central on the high-speed motorway, how people relate to one another, how the sun gets hotter while air conditioner gets colder, how people choose for their love, it's just too complicated to think, we simply accept it rather. 

The evidence of exist is what you have actually left behind. People always write memories inside me, but I could only write on here. My depression kept me writing until the semester started last September, then I met a girl and we went together. After that I didn't write as much, as I didn't want to think that much. My existence dropped vertically.

But that's not the point. The thing is, I saw a lot more than I'd ever thought about throughout these twelve months. 

attacca

how I lost myself in this world completely

attacca

how I do to escape every fact around

attacca

how i accept changes

attacca

how much I hate to face myself

Da cappo

Several times I started writing my post, then stop and think. Is this what I want, to writing myself down on here where everyone can see. I don't even want to clear some of my thoughts. I definitely don't want people to hate me, because of how they might know about me.

This blog can't lie, that's the meaning of it.     (IAC)

Why I have to let everybody know who am I? (HC)

There is always somebody captures me, anyhow. That Someone writes much deeper memories, no matter the appearance, the smell, and the sound, the voice. Usually this is how I distinguish people, and what image they left behind. If the data is more, does that means they are more important to you?

(a tremolo follows, decorated with a diminished seventh hidden in the bass)

(GP)

No matter how bad I became, I am still me.

That day someone dumped me, this day I dump someone.

I hate myself.

Once I wrote posts in other blogger, that collected my dark and black attitude toward life. That was when I totally wanted to hide myself, I didn't want to recognize me.

Now I can't, just don't know why.

(Minor key, long sustained chordal section, resolved with sequences interlocking)

If life is all about a piece of music, then everything will go to tonic most likely. Am I am major key or minor? Which movement am I locating? Which key is now? Which chord? Dynamic? Articulation?..

All alone in the night, but this time, I made all this. I am not saying that I am regret of what I did, but memories brought up tons of confusion to me. A fountain. La Mer by Debussy maybe? 

There is much more that I need to concern now, that is important to me as always. No matter how crazy is my feeling on someone, or how often I miss someone, I must have to face this problem. I have to face loneliness and impatient.

(A sigh)

(Before you know it, the performer has left the stage, lights off)

(No clapping, no sign of breathe, it's midnight, all alone)