Reference to the past

Of silent movies playing in your head when you dance, the soft churning sounds of your heart. Of wonders broken by the stepping of your foot, a desire to fill nothingness into everything. Of talking to the empty wall, your mind giving you images of happiness plastered. Of sitting in a party, to drink in the essence of joy, and the ultimate hangover. Of phones, carried and made by man, but made us less human. Of sweet grass, eaten by herbivores in their lazy hours. Of Beauty. Breathe. In. Slow. Take in the slow moving air. One. Two. Three.

And think about the past.

I come to think about myself as a everchanging capsule, one made and moulded by time, destroyed by memories, and rebuilt by Nature. I looked through my past memories, the things that i have written. Some i cringe, at the crudeness of it. Others i admire, the strong words that i have written. Once i even smiled, at my own foolishness. It gave me a certain voyueristic pleasure somehow, to be reading something that one has written for so many a time. But it gave me too, a simple stab of the heart, as i realise what i have lost. Yes, i have manage to gain so much more in the past few months, but the feelings of regret that seemed to overflow in my words instigated this cycle of desires that once wanted to be fufill.

One thing i regret is the lacking of writing i did. I remember how wonderful i written, the poetry filled with something i could relate, and when i read them, it gives me a satisfaction unlike no other. Yet now, it seems that my writing style has, in my opinion degraded. My vocabulary has decreased, has detoriated, till a point where sometimes, i dont even understand what i written. The creativity that so much as harnessed my thoughts seemed to be drenched of its own prowess. The phrases, tend to now be repeated, and it a chore to think of new ones, ones that sound poetic to me. But it does feel good to finally write much more again. I used to update once every day. Now, never the case again.

Yet, i notice the subtle change in the words and the way i have written. The angst seemed to have completely vanished in me. I do not long to vent, or rant anymore, like a screaming brat angry at the world. Perhaps hatred burned out in me, and the desires to be angry is gone. There is no use in doing that. It would only serve to aggravate and hurt the people around. The world passes by me with different view now, the glass eye in my mind changed, unknown even to the entities of the world whether it is for the better or the worse. But i have changed.

And it feels better.

Justin ranted at 9:50:00 pm on the
3 February 2006
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