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Saturday, March 11, 2006

Good times, good fight and sweet dreams..

It will always be in my life. Never once gotten by the day without it. Even if so, it will not be natural. My air. Or part of it at least. Plays quite a significant role in my emotional state. Mind food/fuel. Vital in whatever situations. Had this school group bowling competition years back. My buddies were known in the school circuit as premier bowlers then. Me, i'm just a world champ in my own head. Heh.. One after another, they striked out whatever pins standing in their lanes. Pure skill and confidence. I had quite an ok early rounds to follow after as well. Just somewhere down the line i lost my concentration and my form suffered. We were neck and neck with this other school team towards the final few rounds. Everyone else were still at the top of their game and that's where i knew i had to buck up and step the fuck up. Took out my discman(R.I.P) and proceeded to 'fuel up'. Basically, listening to music helped to ease me down from all the final-game anxieties and refocus my ass to the task. Came back strong on the rebound and never looked back. All the way til we got that championship trophy in our hands. Never forget how it felt. Never will.

It was everything to me back then. Way before school even. Wondered to myself sometimes, why i never really learn to play any instruments being so. Maybe it's just meant for me to sit from a respectable distance and love it with all my heart and soul. Was i too in love with it back then to even realise that? Given all the circumstances that took shape from my hard-headedness in believing, i could do it? All the persistence, the fight-for-the-right-to-recite-my-artful plight, the freedom to paint pictures using the mic as a brush...ah.. the mic.. The 'Stargate' to my world within. A world that i once readily would share with any and every interested soul that ventures close. A photographer at that, with endless pieces of notes and papers as pictures to string together in melodicious mini albums. Also a world that almost completely sealed me off from everything else. Did'nt see the need to escape from it then. Why should i? It Is My World... It got lonely though. Extremely.

There were others sharing the same love. They walked with me and we stood our ground against whatever that tried to break us down. This is, of course, not to say that there were no casualties. One by one, in time, lowered their heads and bowed out from the cause. From the belief. The stand. I hung on still along with what's left of the others, refusing to accept the fact that we desperately needed a miracle even if just by a feeble folicle from it. Still, throughout the struggle, casualties kept on growing and no sight of a breakthrough just yet. As for my group, i'd like to see it as that we travelled towards the same eventful path, together in a bus BUT, we sat at different seats, facing different positions throughout that journey.. Sometime during then, i found out that i had been bleeding, steadily. The very blood that holds all the dreams, ambitions, drive, will and that one vital component. Hope. Shot from all angles, intended or strays, around me and i was still too busy fighting for the cause to even notice or feel it. Now the seemingly endless flow of blood out of me is ending pretty soon. Or has it stopped already? Without even moving, i have receded into the shadows. Without tears, i joined the fallen who long accepted their place. Still, why don't i feel like one of them? Why do i feel as if it is not my time yet? I passed over and yet i don't feel belonged in the fallen lands. All this, knowing the fact that it is no longer my world over there. Fifteen minutes last forever and beyond but it was ultimately no longer mine. That world floats in the milky ways of memories now. How sweet it was..

5:41 AM | 0 Comment

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