Joel blogs best in the early hours, Joel blogs best with an emo song in the background. Thought you'd know it by now.
How many people actually read my blog? Or rather, how many people I would like to write for actually know of this space?
This has been a very different year. 04 to 05 is more different than 02 to 03. Things changed, people changed, I'd like to think that I've changed more than I realise, but why don't you tell me about it?
Burning out in this mystery.
Love isn't what it used to be. Do I understand the meaning of beauty and pain better than before? Or am I more acclimatised to a world void of love? A sense of desperation always follows a sense of being loved. A lonely space at the back of my mind. Please don't leave. I've always wondered, do people actually realise how lonely they actually are? I never did. Till now.
Is this the new year, or just another desperation?
Hope is a funny thing, the kind that doesn't make you laugh. I hope to express an expectation of what I would like to see or experience. But that doesn't necessarily mean that I am hopeful. I can pray and doubt; I can hope and not be hopeful. And then I get tossed by the waves.
Till the world caves in.
Is inconsitent faith faith at all? Is intermittent obedience obedience? I haven't been harnessing all that there is, not very well. I've killed off my creativity and persistency too many times. I need the fixation of a miracle maker. If you watched Saw, you'll wonder how much courage (or insanity) it takes to rid your body of its members. It is as difficult to strip yourself of the things inside that make you less than who you are.
It's over. It's sham, its poo, its shampoo. Once again, I find myself at the same place I used to be during New Year's Eve. With a basket full of emotions and a coupon that entitles me to another go at the carousel.
How many people actually read my blog? Or rather, how many people I would like to write for actually know of this space?
This has been a very different year. 04 to 05 is more different than 02 to 03. Things changed, people changed, I'd like to think that I've changed more than I realise, but why don't you tell me about it?
Burning out in this mystery.
Love isn't what it used to be. Do I understand the meaning of beauty and pain better than before? Or am I more acclimatised to a world void of love? A sense of desperation always follows a sense of being loved. A lonely space at the back of my mind. Please don't leave. I've always wondered, do people actually realise how lonely they actually are? I never did. Till now.
Is this the new year, or just another desperation?
Hope is a funny thing, the kind that doesn't make you laugh. I hope to express an expectation of what I would like to see or experience. But that doesn't necessarily mean that I am hopeful. I can pray and doubt; I can hope and not be hopeful. And then I get tossed by the waves.
Till the world caves in.
Is inconsitent faith faith at all? Is intermittent obedience obedience? I haven't been harnessing all that there is, not very well. I've killed off my creativity and persistency too many times. I need the fixation of a miracle maker. If you watched Saw, you'll wonder how much courage (or insanity) it takes to rid your body of its members. It is as difficult to strip yourself of the things inside that make you less than who you are.
It's over. It's sham, its poo, its shampoo. Once again, I find myself at the same place I used to be during New Year's Eve. With a basket full of emotions and a coupon that entitles me to another go at the carousel.
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