Peace of Home

Not a moment without silence or thoughts uninterrupted.

Missing those days of freedom.



At home, it's always life living at large.

A Letter To Beatrice

Dearest Beatrice,

It takes a lot of courage, but I will ask anyway: how are you? Where have your adventures led you? What is your life like now?

It has been six months, eight days and twelve hours since I've thought about you. Sometimes, though just sometimes, I will allow myself to open up my once bleeding wounds and bathe in our lavish memories. Mind you, that is because I was momentarily weakened, but entertained by the thought of what our lives would entail if we never walked our separate paths. Each step still encloses an inkling of our past, whether if it's a smile, a fleeting touch or some distant singing laughter. It still all have a minuscule part of your presence. I often wonder when our paths will meet again - when our palms will touch, our strides will be in pace and our eyes will be expressively filled of thoughts for each other. Now, those are simply jaded memories that thorn a human heart and is no longer the sunshine to a sullen day.

I think I am deserving of some congratulatory encouragement for getting thus far without you by my side. It's not easy to erase a lifetime of memories even if they are of ones where you are blaming me and I am faulting you. I want to tell you that this will be the final farewell because from this moment I will be free of any feelings. I will have the release I've longed for this whole time and live life as is. I wish you well, I wish you happiness, I wish you love. I hope you can return my sentiments too.

Goodbye Beatrice; I wish you the best of the best.

Sincerely,

B.

The art of blogging

I guess I have not been blogging much because there's really nothing to blog about, except on debits and credits, which is what I deal with, pretty much every day. 我很羨慕那些擁有一手好文采的人，無論是亂寫一通還是認真去寫，還是能讓人看到回味. I am even more envious of those who can draft a whole entry in chinese. Why? Because it's more poetic. Often enough, I'd wish I can express my thoughts in chinese, clearly and concisely. And each time I do, it comes out as verbal garbage. I don't wish to be articulate, because we all know those are boring people, but I wish to write so that it inspires other people, to write, live, dance, and whatever pleasures their hearts. I wish to find my own writing style, unique to myself, and one that I can be proud of.

不要浪費了自己的情緒在不必要的事情上，生命短暫。

你我不能忘記...
無論是我的明天　要去哪裡
而至少快樂傷心我自己決定
所以我說　就讓他去
我知道潮落之後一定有潮起
有什麼了不起
───五月天《人生海海》