“My life, which seems so simple and monotonous, is really a complicated affair of cafés where they like me and cafés where they don’t, streets that are friendly, streets that aren’t, rooms where I might be happy, rooms where I shall never be, looking-glasses I look nice in, looking-glasses I don’t, dresses that will be lucky, dresses that won’t, and so on.

A room? A nice room? A beautiful room? A beautiful room with bath? Swing high, swing low, swing to and fro…This happened and that happened…

And then the days came and I was alone.”

- Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys

I met a girl today, for only a few hours. We exchanged some words. Simple, plain, broken conversations. One thing hit my brain, very hard. In whichever relationship, as you grow fond of someone, it tortures you when that person cannot reciprocate the same attention. I don’t understand possession but I know it is clinging on me, dragging along the road of self-despair and destructive doubt. It is madness but it is also a part of being human – to own something, even if it is nothingness.

Must we claim the right of having someone or something, knowing that things change and eventually disappear? 

I flew half-way through the earth, feeling the weight of inescapable worries and inevitable fears blocking the gate of unexpected joys, strangely charming acquaintances.

At every changing moment, the moment one walks between the thin layer of good and bad anxiety that would skip one’s heartbeat, more clearly than ever I realize happiness is made out of bubble soap, far away from my reach, standing there staring at my be-wilderness, telling me “Don’t try to touch. Just look and see.” Every time this helplessness crawls in me, I call for a move and cry my heart out until I meet the next destination.

“Do you ever find yourself projecting your mind too far down the pathway of Uncertainty, perhaps driven by fear or worry? I once read that in ancient biblical days people would strap small clay lamps Upon their feet at night that would light the way as they walked along the Uneven and stony pathways. The lamps would only cast light several feet in front of the person walking, which is really all they needed to move towards their destination, on step at a time. It only required that they pay attention to the next step on the journey, having faith that each step to follow would take care of itself.”

- The Art of Uncertainty - How to live in the mystery of life and love it by Dennis Merritt Jones

“As human beings are not factory-made machines and toys, we are special and complicated. What our purposes in lives are, what our hearts desire, and even our weak spots, we are unique and have different qualities. You have to watch for a long time, only then you can see the outline of a person.”

“It is astonishing how complete can be the illusion that beauty is good. A beautiful woman may talk rot and you listen and fancy she is saying clever things instead of rot. She says and does vile things and you find them charming. And if by any chance she says pretty things instead of rot and vileness, you are instantly convinced that she is a very paragon of goodness and wisdom.”

-The Kreutzer Sonata by Leo Tolstoy

When I was two, life was a myth, beautiful yet ambiguous. Now when I’m in my twenties, life remains to be a myth while many shits just got real. To realize this fact is to accept the sheer ephemeral of things, that age is simply a term to categorize our appearances or where we stand on the horizon of time, yet after all, holds no greater meanings or power than a word. Hence in the course of life, one should avoid solving the puzzle that might complicate one’s mind and hinder one’s ability to view a bigger picture. Savour life, enjoy the taste of its obscurity and spontaneity, with the least expectation of finding a legitimate answer.

Age means nothing if it’s not for growing up.

fly in the face of the fleeting lightness of being - or how I end the year of 2012.