Perfection

I think I'm perfection-phobic. It scares me for some reason. I'm worried about being bored to death by a perfect life, a predictable future, and a predictable present. On the other hand, I'm also scared of too much drama, too many worries, too many questions. Contradictory, yes; but very true.
If only there was a balance between perfection and imperfection. The right amount of complications, a beautiful mess perhaps. That would be... truly perfect. 

That Fine Line

She was treading on a fine line here, a thread-thin rope. It was so easy to fall back into the mess that was, and easier still to get back out. Sadly, the choice wasn't in her hands. Perhaps the answer was in the sureness of her feet; their ability to balance and take a sure stance away from the line. However, she knew how clumsy she was. She might be meaning to take a large leap away from the line, and out of this mess, only to fall back into it with great force, dwelling deeper than she had ever been. It was a dangerously fine line, laced with confusion and doubt and so much possibility. Most importantly, it was saturated with that little thing called hope.

Change is constant

A wise person once said "there is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find ways in which you yourself have altered." As true as these words are, what happens when you experience something slightly different? What if, well, you have changed; but what if the place has, too? You come back to a place, expecting everything and everyone to have stayed the same, only to realize that things aren't as you left them. Everyone has moved on, and when you think about it, so have you.

The only thing left to do is to enjoy the little that you have left, before it too fades away with time.

Sometimes, I feel like I would take anything that you had to offer me. It seems like you have so much to offer to the world, but so little to offer to me. And I've been here with you for so long, while the rest of the world has just passed by, without giving you a second glance. It's odd, isn't it? I've been waiting so long to see just a speck of your soul. I've been an open book, while you've hidden every bit of yourself, ever so carefully. I'm not sure what you're waiting for, but I know it's not me.

Knowledge is Power

Or, is ignorance pure bliss? All of us want to selectively choose the information that we want to hear, and tune out the information that we're better off not knowing. Sadly, we're not blessed with this sort of choice. Sometimes, we never get to know things that we should rightfully know, things that we are better of knowing, knowledge that will make all the difference to our lives and for the better. Sometimes, we are cursed with the knowledge of things that we would have been happier never, ever knowing in our lifetime.
Choices. We have so few of them. The world is just thrust towards us whether we like it or not. And what are we left with? The power of not knowing which pieces of information we will end up with, and which pieces of information will get lost in the winds of time.
Maybe that's our choice. The choice of mystery, of adventure, of spontaneity. 

Purpose

I think I've been going through an aimless phase for quite a while now. December was supposed to help me figure everything out, but it's already half up and I'm no where closer to where I want to (or rather, need to) be. I've got my lists, I've got some ideas, I've got this horribly vague picture of where I'm heading. But it's so blurry that it might as well not exist. I worry myself; i'm worried for myself. I don't want to waste away, and I don't want things to end with me being as lost and confused as I feel at the moment. This can't be the way things are meant to be. There must be some point when everything is crystal clear, right? And truthfully, I'm not even asking for crystal clarity. Anywhere even halfway close will do for me.

"Steal a piece of time..."

A wise person once told me that making memories is the most important purpose of life. At that point, I was so caught up in this wise persons' words that I set out to achieve this one goal, while ignoring every other goal and purpose. And though this person was partly right, he was partly wrong as well. Memories are important, and we must do what we can to create as many as possible. However, this isn't the sole purpose of life. We have other purposes, other responsibilities. I think I've learned the hard way that we must learn to intertwine this objective of making memories with other objectives, in order to achieve what we truly want in life: happiness.

Creepiness

Does being possessive about someone show that you really care, or that you're really insecure? I feel that it could be either one of the two, and I'm not sure how to tell the difference. One can easily be mistaken for the other.
No matter which one it is, though, I think it's a quality that really needs to be toned down; reacting to something this sensitive can only lead to trouble. Yes, talk about it with the other person, but for the most part, it's safer to keep it inside your head and come to terms with it in your own time. 

Braveheart

Stories like LOTR and Harry Potter confuse me; I find it hard to fathom how someone would be so willing to die in order to save the world. I mean, it sounds really heroic, but it's just beyond me. It's different to, say, serve the army. But carrying the burden of the entire world and all it's people, like Frodo Baggins and Harry Potter, is an entirely different story.
Okay, yes, it's just a story at the end of the day. However, it manages to always create this surge of emotion in me, and the simple(?) question arises as to whether I could ever be brave enough to do something like that.

Granted

I feel like I take too many people in my life for granted. It's not conscious, no. But I know that I do it. Sadly, I realize much, much later and sometimes it's too late to undo the damage.
I just wish that I could realize before I take anyone for granted. But how do you do that, right? Most of life's decisions hit you much after you've made them; similarly, mistakes like taking people who care for you a lot, for granted, hit you much later too.
Perhaps one day, I wont be this... unconsciously indifferent. Perhaps one day, when I'll finally feel like a better person.

Eggnog

I'm not sure what it is about Christmas that instills such a strong spirit in me. The carols, the hats, the candy canes and the (hypothetical, in-my-head) snow all seem to play a part. It's so much fun to love Christmas; anything remotely related to the festive season manages to excite me, somehow.
My Christmas hat is my new best friend. I have every intention of walking everywhere with it perched on my head. My completely off-beat singing might be a slight issue when it comes to singing carols (with my hat on, of course!) but oh well. 'Tis, after all, the season to be jolly.

Grass

The lush, tall grass was the only thing around her, for miles and miles. Each blade pointed up towards the sky, and ended with a perfect dew drop that sparkled in the sunshine. The earth below her bare feet was soft and warm and ever so comforting. A slight breeze splattered drops of water on her face, and she smiled. She had no idea where she was, or how she had got here, but here, under the sun and entwined in grass, was where she belonged.

Two halves

The concept of soul mates intrigues me. I remember reading a Paulo Coelho book in which the author defines the idea of soul mates very clearly, stating that souls are split into two after reincarnation; over time, these two halves split further, and so on, until pieces of our soul are scattered all around the world. Thus, it is possible for us to have more than one soul mate.

I find this explanation very fascinating. I know it's horribly idealistic and practically unbelievable, but it's such a wonderful possibility. Though, honestly, I'm not sure if I even believe in the concept of a soul mate. Yes, there might be someone that you get along with extremely well, but that doesn't mean they're your soul mate, does it? There's no one who's perfect for you in every way. Even if there is someone who comes close, you may not fall in love with them. In fact, it's highly likely that you will fall in love with someone who is perfect for you in no way, at all.

But that's love, I guess. It makes no sense.

A Powerful Mind

How powerful is the subconscious mind? Is it possible to change things by will? It seems unnatural, even impossible, but I think I've experienced it, I think I know people who have. It's not one hundred percent foolproof, just like anything else in this world, but it's possible.
However, at the moment, I think my subconscious mind is non-existent. Or maybe it's buried in deep in the chaotic mess that is my mind. Everything seems to be very out of my hands. 

Our past is our present

I find it odd that some of the most brilliant minds in history displayed strong streaks of misogyny. Socrates, Freud, Kant. If a large part of philosophy was based on the notion that women are weak, need to be controlled and are incapable of learning, it's no wonder that it took three waves of feminism and so many other women's rights movements to get to where we are today. 

A Perfect Match

These visits to the seaside were becoming frequent events for her. There was something about the ocean that was strangely comforting. And off-late, it seemed to match her mood quite often. Sometimes, it was blissfully calm, and at other times it seemed to be floating in the moment, lingering leisurely, not afraid of all the time that was ticking on. Sometimes, it would lash against the shore, so horribly confused; the waves seemed to be screaming "should I come, or should I go?" Indecisive. Just like her.

Inspiration, or lack thereof

I think I’m horribly uninspired. Maybe it’s because I’ve stopped thinking. Does this even make me human anymore? More importantly, does this even make me, ME anymore?

I am re-reading Sophie’s world. I’m hoping that it will give me some answers. Or maybe I should stop waiting for answers to come to me. However, I don’t want to stop asking questions. I have, for the past year or so, and I don’t like this at all. Life’s been easier this way, undoubtedly, but what’s fun about easy right? Haha, I just realized how weird that sounds. Oh well.

The point is, this year really has been… uncomplicated, by my standards (SO FAR). It hasn’t been an easy year, no, but I’ve refused to let it get complicated because that’s not a path I want to go down again. But I think I eventually realized that being complicated is an inherent part of me. I mean, I’m not all for being one of those deep, brooding (wannabe intellectual?) writers, but maybe, just maybe, that’s what I am? Come to think of it, I don’t know what I am anymore. Perhaps I never did.

I am me. Let’s leave it at that for now.