postcards from far away

'to travel is better than to arrive'

so often, we believe that there is only one path to live our dreams. but too often we focus so hard on that one path, we forget all the others.

just once, i'd like to take the scenic route.

call it a cliché, but i realise now that its the journey--not the destination--that counts. sometimes, you just have to trust that the future will work out how its supposed to.

and if it doesn't?

well then, i guess it's all just a part of the journey.


E.

5 days down and i'm already (and still) a mess.

pourquoi est-il que si difficile de vous oublier?

because of this, i've decided that its too hard to try and forget. instead, i want to look forward to the end of another 8 days, just so i can tell you the decision i made long before you left.

and i can be happy.


E.

its pathetic how long it took me to decide. to realise.

a sudden realisation that once upon a time, i was truly happy. that the only reason why i ever started to question this was because you started to doubt yourself, resurrecting the deep and confounding feelings that i blame for this regress.

i thought that it would be a good time to try and forget. to 'experiment' and see if i could live without, following the hypothesis that eventually, time would heal everything.

but i was wrong. distance and time hasn't changed a thing, and i'm too relentless for even that to change.

and it makes me want to shake myself and contemplate 'why was there any doubt at all?'



E.

life is not a guarantee of success, but rather the promise of opportunities.

unlimited opportunities.


E.

c'est la vie

sometimes in life, the things worth dying for are the things worth living for.

nobody will ever understand what this is, because they weren't there.


E.

"To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause – there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action...
Be all my sins remembered."


E.

snakes and ladders

to sleep well is a wonderful thing. to completely switch your brain off and pretend that nothing has happened. its blissful.

(and then here comes the 'but')

as soon as you wake up, all that emotion inundates your mind and bliss turns to heartache once again.

is it human nature to turn jealous? well if it is, it can go fuck itself.
i wish it had never happened, but most of all, i just wish i never saw it happen. actions speak louder than words, and its times like these where my photographic memory is a burden on my life. now, i feel as though everything that we've achieved, especially in the past month, has fallen down the drain and we're back at square one.

its like a neverending game of snakes and ladders.

they say i should move on from this, get over it and do what i think is right for me. the only problem is however, is that what is right is not the same as what i want, and i'm sick of not having what i want.

i want so badly to scream at you. pound your chest and tell you that you're just wrong, because if you really care about someone, then none of what you doubt should matter at all.

but i can't tell you anymore, because you're just as stubborn as i am.


E.

i don't understand. what is your perogative?

trust takes a lifetime to build and only a second to break.

and what gets to me the most, is that you spent the entire time acting like you didn't care, like the words that were spoken just hours before meant absolutely nothing to you.

and you know what?
after that little stunt, i find it hard to believe that they do.


E.

i wish you would pause for just one second, so i can tell you how much i've missed you too.


E.

my head says no, but my heart says yes.


E.

sometimes, i get so apprehensive that i wonder whether or not its all worth it.

and then other times, i know i wouldn't have it any other way, and its those times that make up for all the doubt clouding my mind.


E.

not a day goes by

its the one thing i hate about this time of year.

the feeling that no matter what you do, it never feels like its enough. no matter how much you achieve, there will always be that little voice in your head telling you that you didn't work hard enough.

then the blame game starts.

do i blame someone? something? somewhere? all of the above?

but thats a bit naive, because i know that the only direction the fingers will be pointing, will be at me.


E.

its a shame we can't all be perfect and get what we want.


but i can do things you couldn't dream of being able to do.


E.