I Wonder What He Dreams Of

I wonder what he dreams of when he sleeps,
The peace that overtakes him.
Does he sees things that had been, or what could have been
All his moments replayed in perfect clarity?
Perhaps he dreams of a world he helped shaped and made,
A world he shall never know.
Perhaps he dreams of a spring that'll come after this winter chill,
And all the flowers he hadn't seen.
There's still a lot to achieve, so much to see,
And yet he's still sleeps.
Perhaps amidst his dreams he'll find his love,
And to never wake and drown in solidarity.
And perhaps he's silently listening instead of sleeping,
Holding on to every child's word,
As he slumbers on...

I wonder what he dreams of when he sleeps
As I stare at the rises and falls of a once strong chest.
Perhaps in his dreams,
He's happy.
Perhaps in his dreams,
He's finally home.

Trapped

Just a really short one, but I have to get this out.

Do you ever feel trapped? In life, in body, in mind; whatever. Being unable to say what you want -- need -- to say, unable to do what you want to, unable to tell others what you really think? Being restrained from letting go, cut down at each path you take, held back from all the decisions you want to make. Being helpless to the current of events, vulnerable to reality's manipulation, and being corroded, bit by bit, until you're nothing but an empty shell.

Do you ever feel trapped?

I wonder what it's like to be physically trapped. People unable to speak their mind due to certain deformities, unable to go on a rollercoaster ride because of a weak heart. People too weary to have the strength to voice out their needs and wants. To be only a spectator, but never a participant. To only watch from afar all those fun they're having, and nurse your own sorrows with self-deprecating laughter.

I guess all that will come with age. We all grow old, we all will someday lose the ability to be free, being trapped in a constantly aging body, decaying, deteriorating; while the twenty-year-old hearts yearn to fly, to run, to jump and skip gaily. Sometimes I wonder how frustrating that will be. Sometimes I wonder how tortuous it'll be to have it dangle in front of your eyes, but to never have the strength or the ability to own it.

Shorter hands = harder to catch?

Twenty is an awfully big number. It's beginning to show me parts of the world in a different, clearer perspective. There are so many shady parts, so many dark black abyss that forces everyone into a constant tiptoeing around, narrowly missing a lurking landmine, or dodging air missiles while trying to keep their balance. So many traps hiding, lurking, waiting for the right moment for you to fall in.

As for being trapped, that's the part that I've recently read and witness, and the one my free soul fears the most. And to think that all I've read about are just physical cages -- aging bodies and deformities... I have a feeling that being trapped in body is much much better than being trapped in life, but that's another story for now.

Right. I've half a mind not to post this due to all the nonsensical things I just spouted. Ahh but whatever, this site is just for me to spew all the trash in my head. Having someone else read them is just a very very very nice plus. =)

Tally-ho, folks.

One Step At A Time

Two weeks. Two weeks which feels like a stretch of never-ending deserts with only a single drop of water to carry you through.

It's been only two weeks of trials and here I am, panting, losing sleep, drowning in caffeine like a fish craves water. My heart rate is perpetually elevated and every second feels so precious I feel like I'm wasting my energy breathing, eating and sleeping instead of trying to cram everything into my already enlarged head.

That's usually me in the morning. So lovable, don't you think? 

Even my best friend--sleep--evades me. It's either tossing and turning in bed until the little wee hours of the morning, fretting and worrying about the upcoming test; or it's jumping--literally--out of bed feeling like I've been chased by Freddy Krueger for the last ten miles.

Perhaps I'm just underprepared, and if I study just a little more I'd be perfectly fine. Perhaps it's just being surrounded by geniuses who are so very diligently working and so very focused that I'm scared witless that I might not be able to compare. Perhaps it's just the fear of being left behind. Perhaps it's just not being able to accept that everyone works at their own pace in their own way and I probably shouldn't try to learn from people who doesn't need much time to prepare.

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Someone even wrote a book on it.

Two weeks of utter exhaustion, of both the body and the mind. I've found out things I never knew about myself, I found out things I never knew about some friends, I've found out that nothing's ever really impossible, and that a lot of people have different approaches to different things and different stimulus, that I shouldn't always assume others will react to things the same way I would.

Ah. Not really in the mood to dwell on what's past. Perhaps all I should do with the past two weeks is to learn from it what I don't normally learn enough --  that I'm really really in need of serious catching up. Of course, that and all those shows of humanity-at-its-best that really puts me in awe. Whew, the things that some people come up with. Really adds some spice to life, y'know?

Funny that almost every test reverts people back to their most primitive state, and all sorts of oddities show up. Perhaps it's only odd to me (since 'like' attracts 'like') and I'm pretty sure I'm odd, if only in a different way.

What am I doing here?

I'm beginning to feel the strain. Each step is heavily laden with chains I didn't know existed. Pulling, pulling, pulling; all week long I've been pulling a heavy body (not literally! At least I hope not.) and heavy feet forward -- to the school, from the school, to food, from food, to books, from books...  Each step is a strain on not the physique, but the soul as well. It's a wonder some people live to be a hundred and still want to live. @@

Thank god for days where I can release everything and just stare at the ceiling doing nothing and let my mind wander like a child again. Thank all the people who made it possible for me to laze around like an invalid, especially those who laze around with me. Those people are important, especially when they so much reduce the guilt for lazing around when others are working their butts off.

If this is how I feel now, imagine how I'll feel in the coming ten years. Maybe I'll have permanently curved legs from all the weight by then. *hysteric laughter*

Well, on the bright side, perhaps I'll have those tiny legs after all from those chains. 

Ah. One step at a time, babe. One step at a time. We'll deal with it when they come hitting you in your face alright? Plus, I'm pretty sure all of this will be a breeze compared to what's coming later. *bites lips* Maybe one day in the future I'll look back and laugh at myself for working myself up for something so... tiny.

We'll see.

On a side note, those steps do get lighter, better when you have friends who are willing to do crazy things for you, with you, at you. Sometimes, after a strenuous day of info-cramming, all it takes is just a single word from the right person to lift my spirits. I'm lucky to have a bunch of unrestrained friends to cheer me up on days like this.

Hats off to you people who light up my life. *grins* One person who does crazy things is mentally ill, where a group of people acting crazily is called fun. I'm relying on you guys to make me fun instead of psycho. =P

Signing off for now. Will see you soon.

Hang in there.