All i Ever Want To Do iS Worship . . .

Thursday, October 03, 2013

and so the heavens open

there's a feeling that comes with the rain, there's a joy and exhilaration that comes with the sounds, and there's a nostalgia that comes with the smell.

its floods your senses, sight, sound, smell, and touch, you can actually taste the rain, even when you're not in it.

and being alone, with all my lights out, the only thing litted up - my computer screen, gives a sense of comfort, a hint to creativity, and a joy to have your fingers just move, move around and make those words appear.

how i wish i had my piano still, maybe when it rains and there's a nice piano piece accompanying the rain, and the thunder. you have your staccato moments, your crescendo, with the roar of the thunder. maybe they have orchestral pieces that mimics the rain, okay not maybe, THERE ARE.

there's this comfort that surrounds you, it's as if everyone is there, yet there isn't a need for anyone to be. you're surrounded and these people do not tire you out, they just want to pamper you, appreciate you. they do not want to stress you out, they do not want to take anything from you.

well, she makes things difficult, but it's a joy, you don't want to go to near or get caught in it, but from afar you admire her. from a safe place, her majesty and splendor, her vigor and beauty. she's strong, but she yields. she's loud, but she's gentle. and as she sings, it lulls babies and adults to the depths of their innermost sanctuary of slumber and peace.

she's shy, and mellows, and then without a warming, she sneaks up on you and starts to express herself. in her shyness, she cajoles you to her side, to listen intently, to ponder her words and ways. her meekness attracts the curious, they sit by her side and listen to her song. and then she rises up in powerful soprano, amazing you with what she can do. and yet, that is not all, it is just but the beginning, she roars majestically, and everything rises along with her, the crowd is swayed by her, following her choreographed dance.

there is no fault in her tone, her pitch or her voice. it is magnificent and perfect, and to all who stops and listens, they gain from it.

so close your eyes, and listen, feel her breath and her whispers on your face, her scent so fresh and pleasant, her taste so refreshing and true. and open your eyes with all these in mind, and see, her majesty, her brilliance, her might, and her beauty. and take it all in, enjoying her, enjoying the way God has made her to be.

for when nature sings, all Man should stop and listen.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 4:49 PM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

the rambling of an insane mind

I don't mind blacking out, i just mind hitting my head against something that will split it open.

When you place an irrational truth against an irrational fact, you get the only rational conclusion.

'It doesn't matter' doesn't quite cut it, that leads to apathy, rather, God cares and appreciates, and you're doing it for Him, makes it worthwhile.

There isn't such a thing as reciprocation, or do unto others, really. What's left is just do, He will not shortchange you.

Many a times its not a matter of why? Or what? Rather a simple who could lead you to the right direction.

Reclusiveness beings out a creativity, and a destructiveness, why not be creatively destructive?

Don't plan your own suicide, plan your homicide.

I've been so abnormal all my life, that when i become abnormal, no one notices any difference, its scary.

There's no such thing as 'its never too late', honestly, there are times when it really is too late, and when you missed it, you've missed it for good.

There was a time that 'sorry' was the hardest word, not its 'thank you'.

You taught me how to treat people that they may not feel taken for granted, and i thank you for that.

There's still a little bit of crazy left inside me, but it won't make a difference to most people.

A laughter and joy that comes from brokenness sounds the sweetest and is infectious.

When you learn that spirituality and emotions are together yet separate, and finding your solace in Christ, your sanity i. Him, while you're sad for no apparent reason.

You don't know, you don't need to, and it stopped mattering the moment you stopped caring.

Psychoanalysing yourself so much that every unconscious thought becomes salient, becomes processed, and the divide between id, ego and superego becomes so blurred, you lose yourself altogether.

I want to come home, but i dont really know where home is anymore.

Its a cognitive maze, a little logical haze, and a huge lost face.

Will it storm for me? Will you bring the rain, the thunder and all its majesty here for me? Will you?

Having been surrounded by death, it sends most to a eureka of life moment, but it teaches me another hard truth, and also motivates me towards it. Death is so much better than life, and in death we find life, then you'll know why it is better.

It is easy to take my words for jokes, but when the rubber hits the road, so does my words hit you in the face like a bullet. or maybe my spittle.

there isn't much of a room for replies, there isn't much of a space for anything seriously, not for you, nor for me.

while they sound more sane than most of you.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 4:21 PM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

muse my mind

天下人间是没有如果
但每个故事是有结果
每个动作会有个后果
但付出的并不是收回的成果。

所谓的徒劳无功，
天下多的很，
如真的有不劳而获，
别说稀见，
闻都没闻过啊！

muse like you always do

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 1:30 AM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

how are what?

"still can't die", "not dead yet"

it is ironic, it was after the first time i typed those words so pronouncedly that i had the ideation of the process of death. and boy was it exhilarating.

please, you do not want to read the thoughts of my mind, not this night, not any night actually, but seriously, this is something you shouldn't read, so just move your cursor to the x at the top and move on with your life, without me, as it has already and all the while been.

i have never felt such joy, confusion, pain, excitement and fear chronologically so close together that it felt almost simultaneous in retrospect. when the charm rings, the eyes read a word, there was a moment of consideration, a moment to reply, and then the next thing i felt was a racing of the heart (it was funny cause i was rather glad that i didn't have any panic attacks yet, but this felt strangely like one) and the joy of just taking a few steps forward, the excitement of walking right into traffic, and then it would be just a blank.

i looked up and actually really visualised myself walking there, while my heart raced, my legs numbed. then fear set in. i could really have done that, i could really have just walked forward, and felt no remorse, felt no shame, and felt a pain that wouldn't be one that is greater than what it already is.

they said that even breathing was painful, just opening your eyes would hurt. oh, no, it wasn't that bad for me yet.

but then there was something that triggered in my mind, something that told me you cannot move just sit here and move not, as if my body and mind were separated, of two entities, of two beings. and then the palms started getting wet, the heart's thumb changed rhythm, fast, yet it was more so fear, it was hard as well, and i sat there, waiting for the bus, waiting for time to pass.

i knew that i was capable of murder, but i didn't know that i was capable of such a kind of murder.

they said that you would have a list of things, you would plan before you killed yourself, they said (yes studies have shown) that it is usually a process, like grieving, like everything. but this was pure irrational compulsion, this was a matter of seconds where i didn't think, i didn't know why, i didn't really believe myself either.

but i knew that if i had done just that, it would have been a release, and yet at the same time, it was such a disaster. its like you are really horny, and then you know that you need to go visit a prostitute or rape a girl or something, but you know that if you did that it would be pure disaster? it was somewhat like that, cause then there would be a guy who would have to live with the guilt of killing me, and it would also ruin his/her life, s/he might face punishment, imprisonment, loss of license and whatnot. and for me, i know, it was just wrong.

i walked home, still having my heart race, still allowing the emotions to overflow. i wanted to tie myself to the bed or something, to make sure that i'm safe from myself. safe.

i'm sorry if i'm not here, i'm not really depressed, its not been more than 14 continuous days, there have been windows. i don't cry myself to sleep, actually, i refuse to cry, even when i watch something emotional, i don't think it will ever stop, so i can't start. i eat well, i had steak for dinner. i don't binge shop (maniac).

but if i hadn't studied psych, there's a possibility that i would have just accredited this whole time to a pent up creativity release, where its been stifled and locked away, and i need to release it while with some emotions, and its something thats characteristically me.

so maybe i'm just that, allowing my mind to go wild, allowing my imagination to take control for a while, giving free reign to thought and compulsion.

i've documented my experience, and i'll continue to document my emotions and bio-reactions for the next two weeks, so if i see any irregularities, or any patterns, i know what to do.

i'll be fine, i'm sure,

i think so.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 11:58 PM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

Monday, September 09, 2013

writing, for myself.

when you realise it was just one day away from MDD, it scares you.

想要狠狠地哭一场，但怕了一开始就不停了。

they said that you have a choice, a choice to cry or to laugh, a choice with your emotions, but is there really a choice, what if you've just felt so bad, so down so depressed, there isn't such a choice. you wake up, and you know, there isn't a choice, that today will be a good productive day, and then it makes you sad to know that it has never been one. and you try to distract yourself, you have windows of clarity, you have windows wherein you know you can do it, and after, you get a feeling that it is over, that window has closed, that's all the work you can do, that's all the work awarded for you today, that's all the happiness you are entitled to.

and yet you yield your mind, you tell yourself, you can do better than that, you are stronger than that, you are able to make this day productive you are able to make pass another day, without tears, without rotting away.

and there, you lose your thought trail, it is gone, vanish, it evades you, and a new one starts.

you aren't the worst day of your life, but yet, memory serves you well, too well.

they said that you had no idea what goes on behind those smiles, those laughters, those jokes.

life is a painful journey, everyone dopes to go through it, mine's coffee, what's yours?

when nightmares and reality merge, waking from a bad dream, only to realise that it is a living nightmare, again.

it's a september, i asked for rain, but not everyday like that.

but if the pain reminds me that i'm alive, maybe, just maybe, i'm protecting the fact that i'm real, unique and alive?

ask, or forever know not what happens.

it is when you didn't make it matter to you, that you mattered no more.

or maybe that week was an indication of BPD, but then again... maybe it was just the lack of self control.

but yet it was funny to have asked Siri, just for fun really, about suicide, and have a response to googling SOS, as if that would have really worked, but i can see Apple trying.

but i gather it's just studying too much and knowing too much and then becoming hypochondriac. much fun for that? imagine you walk into a clinic and tell the doctor, i think i have a severe case of hypochondria, how would s/he respond and administer treatment? oh what an irony. maybe for once you self diagnosed right, after all this while.

why talk when no one listens, so silence would be my choice of action, and absence my course of a route.

but write, for when you write, even as no one reads, you listen. it clears your heart and your mind, and cry, for like the clouds in the skies, the tears are the rain that brings about a clear sky at the end.

and some clouds when its dusk would always make a beautiful scene, so sleep with some clouds, dream beautiful dreams, and wake to a sky that has beauty written all over it.

or maybe i just need some (more) alcohol.

look up, and soul, praise, come on, just do it, its where the joy would come from.

and sometimes i just want to linger a little longer in this. to kill myself, to allow it to eat me a little up each day, and it'll be restful, it will be.

maybe 30 really is a good, and 4 more, four more long ones to go. so so long.

i believe in the - yepp lost that trail of thought too. see, who needs meds to not be able to hold a thought, i don't.

you impede my creativity.

don't worry, i'll be fine. at least i think so.

the madness speaks, the some clouds really clear.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 5:52 PM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

and then you realise

you struggle through a dramatic week, much has happened, much as gone through your mind, much has haunted your nights, and days.

i've laid in bed wondering, what would have been different if i could change things; what would have been different if we had made different decisions so so many years ago. and then i realised, there was nothing that i would want to change. the roads, the paths, the decisions, they have brought me to this place where i'm standing.

it was 5 years ago, we took the bus, we talked, we asked questions, we spoke and listened. and then two passed, and we sat, we talked, we pondered, we screamed and we never did listen. all we had to do was to grow up.

it was 9 years ago, we said hi, we flirted, we joked, we touched, we shared moments, we disagreed. we distanced ourselves over the busyness of our schedules. we ended it all. all i had to do was to never have began something that i shouldn't have started.

over the past week, over the moments and times, the windows of life where our paths met, each time, you triggered something, each time you changed a part of me, each time you allow me to realise something more about myself, about life, and about God. it is interesting that in these little contact, you make me change a little. i never really understood the influence you had over me, i never really understood how mature you were. and yet i never really understood how you never really understood me; we were one, and the same. but yet, i never really understood myself, so how, if i had to ask myself, would i ever expect anyone else to ever understand me?

and yet, over the times and seasons, the moons and winds, the changes that life has weathered into us, have you really become different. am i a different person and you a different being? why, why do i feel so distant, so alien from you; why is there this feeling of two strangers meeting for the first time?

and yet this is filled with so much history and meaning, so thick with memories and so shrouded with emotions. fueled with hope and cajoled with imagination, such fantasies that live in the mind of the broken hearted and forlorn. such fantasies that one hopes so much to embrace and make reality, and in all that one can think about, allow such thoughts to give birth in an alternate.

so when reality meets this alternate reality, of that in your mind, and doesn't quite meet, doesn't quite reconcile with each, a disappointment, a despair grows up deep within, and then it all crumbles down, it comes down in shambles, your world.

the day that you realise, from the beginning, while you thought she knew you, she didn't at all.

and at the end, you learn, it really doesn't matter if anyone understand you, what matters really, is that as long as someone loves with, despite not understanding you, it is, really, good enough.

"one is never really too intelligent or deep to be understood, one just lacks the intellect to be able to simply put thought in simple terms so as to be understood."

i am never really surprised by what i remember, just at what i forgot. you. You.

it was a thought you were in love with,

not a person.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 3:35 AM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

Tuesday, July 09, 2013

kindled

there are a million and one things i would like to say to you, to tell you, to update you on, to share and listen and just be there. but there's this one first thing i would like to say, "sorry".

yes, it is after all my favorite word. Sorry's such an easy word, i wonder why people find it so hard for it to leave from their lips. even with an ulcer on the tongue, the proper enunciation of this word is not affected. maybe a lisp or one with a stutter, but under normal circumstances, there shouldn't be a problem. and i digress.

honestly, i really do not remember what we were fighting over, what we were even fighting for. maybe what i learnt recently was a reflection of what had happened so many years ago: semantics. we had different ideas and interpretations of the same word; different cultural, ideological and philosophical understanding of what we were in. but i believe somewhat, if we were to simplify things, to bring things back to the very basic, we wanted the same things.

Love.

and i'm sorry that as much as i loved, i wanted to be loved, and as much as you did, you wanted it. we just didn't see how we were loving, yet we saw how we loved.

over the years, i came out looking for someone to love, someone whom i could, as i had you. there wasn't, there surely would not be. there was only one you, and loving you that way, was meant uniquely for you. maybe that's why i'd say that you spoilt me for anyone else. if you were a benchmark, no one in heaven or earth (or hell) could qualify. now, this love i have, i have made it sound selfish.

we spoke the same language, but somehow, that could also become misunderstood.

selective memory, something i love about my brain, remembering things that i want to, and removing those that i really do not want to. maybe that's how i'm preserving the untainted memory i have of you, the sweetness in your demeanor, voice, love; the words, of wisdom, of excitements, of shyness. and like an elephant, just never forgetting all these things. it is a curse, as much as a gift.

He took you away, and it tore me apart, a peace felt, yet my heart ached; and still i never shed a tear, no, i will not. yet in my silent prayers, are they being heard, will they be answered, even a no is an answer.

this haunts us, we were not faithful, we prayed, we wanted, but we were not tenacious, we did not grit our teeth and hold on, we really did not put God first.

i wonder that if we trusted each other, if we placed God there in the friendship, would things really come to completion, but why didn't we persevere? are you, like me, looking back and hoping and wishing? we wanted closure, but it wasn't meant to close, it was meant to transform, to change.

i didn't stop loving you, even if i didn't say it, even if i didn't feel it, i didn't. and much bound to my words, and it is not something to repent about, i still do, i still will.

a fire, that destroys or refines.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 2:49 AM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

Thursday, December 06, 2012

anything home-cooked is nice.

只喺好掛好掛住你

so homegrown was supposed to be the word, but on second thought, there isn't really anything to grow in a HDB flat, except for the fungi and moss that grows on our toilet floors, and the occasional accidental dumb cane, that which i am surprised many people are not awares that it is poisonous, and maybe some humanity. but i've realised a common mistake made by many, asking, so where is the best so-and-so food around. after many many rounds of answers and sometimes disappointment, i then realised 'nothing really beats mummy's and daddy's cooking.'

of cos there are some foods that they aren't the best at cooking, really, but something that you're really looking forward too, something that's of your own tastebud, something that's of your own culture. say, where can i get the best nyonya food, and the best people, and also the worse, are the peranakans. or say, where do i find the best soup around, and i'll simply tell you, my house.

sometimes it's a wonder if it's really the taste, or simply the warm feeling in your heart. i guess it is the same writing, say, if i wrote a novel really, and published it, would it be flavoured for singaporeans, for myself, or the likeminded people?

"世上是有很多徒劳无益的事"

the best voices we find are in that of fictional characters, whilst speaking our minds, removing responsibility of having said it. and whilst being afraid of speaking our thoughts out, weird or warped, we find solace that we're not the only ones thinking that.

you were but an idea of the old, the idea of security, yet in this entire history, there wasn't a part of certainty.

written somewhere mid september.

and you were the apple of my eye

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 12:58 AM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.

he always knows

it was good

sometimes when the focus is taken of yourself, it feels good, it kinda feels human, it's good, this feeling of helping another, and it not being about yourself.

yesh, it is somewhat still about me, the wanting to vomit blood, or to scold someone, and its really said, in retrospect, that when its all about the self, or MY best-friend, people just tend to lose focus of things.

there's a time and place for everything, and what you say shows who you are inside, and who you are inside is quite a sad excuse for an emotional, rational person.

i realised that i've been blessed to be surrounded by girls who are though bitch, sensitive and loving, brought up in the proper social graces, and the wisdom to exercise self monitoring, self control, self restraint, self reflection and self maintenance (psychological term). able to laugh, joke, tease, comfort and render assistance of levels that are beyond what is just social pressures. my girlfriends and some, i see the difference in the kind of education (informal and formal) you have received that has made such stark difference in your character development and am really blessed to have you in my life.

but yet at the same time, somehow, i expected all girls to be like you all, and i guess it has really narrowed down the kind of girls i would even consider. a curse, a blessing, it just depends on how you see it.

and as i was reading, i teared, drawing the pain in, the emotions, and then i remembered you, and i knew, for you, i wouldn't shed a tear, and it stopped immediately. somehow, there's still an innate joy.

i apologised for the severity of the word, how harsh it was, but i didn't apologise for the meaning of it, and how thoughtless you have been.

change being constant, doesn't necessarily mean that it is good, or for the better. but change is eventual, and sometimes not within our control.

written on the 23rd of August, 2012.

life, interrupted.

MarkSae, Da-jie Bid Goodbye at 12:55 AM

i.S. t.h.i.S. t.h.e. e.n.d. o.R. t.h.e. S.t.a.R.t.