Steady Burn

Is it either none or everything?

When Black and White becomes too hard, too serious, too forlorn, is that when other colours start flooding the picture?

I remember saying how simple everything is, that only man makes things complicated.

But had I bothered to ask why?

As much as I hate complicated, when people say life isn’t simple, that it’s complicated, is it because we made all these rules and regulations, all these exceptions and limitations that we may have actually blinded ourselves from the simplicity of reality, only because we couldn’t take it?

Or is it, that precisely because we couldn’t take it, adding colours apart from black and white seemed to be the practical solution of living with reality; make this, make that, do this, do that, then you can have this, you can have that. Because by chance, if black and white was all there were, we couldn’t have worked hard for it, or it was all too easy to burn, or too easy to fly.

In the beginning there were only two coulours. And then as I grew older, I saw a hint of blue, a hint of red, and then some yellow, a splash of green and so on.

Have you ever tried burning all colours into one?

How majestic. Terrifying, but majestic.

Wishes for Everyone

Wish-Broken…

I have heard of broken hearts, broken promises…but broken wishes, seldom do I hear much of the matter. And if the concept ruled in different terms, this is the phrase I thought of using.

I’d like to think it carries a much simpler, lighter degree of disappointment.

This way, it wouldn’t be much of a shame to admit that you had your wish broken. May it be an excuse for something worse, at least we all have an idea of what was, somewhat, taken away from us. Or broken.

For whatever is broken, logically speaking, if it is needed, if it is what is supposed to be, if it is good and for the good, then it ought to be mended. These requisites, although may look like one, don’t necessarily have to be fulfilled, but in my personal view, they have to be.

Wishes of the heart, if they are the only wishes that truly exist (apart from plausible others) they are the hardest wishes of them all. They go far beyond death, and they shine the brightest. I noticed even if it fails to be granted, it remains the same. Something you may frown at, smile at, or nod at whenever you look back.

Decisions, decisions…how do you make the best out of it? How do you contemplate without thinking for the worse, or the worst? If it’s bad enough, it can’t get any worse, right? If it’s good, it’s not supposed to go away?

In one of my Educ classes, our professor told us a message whenever we’re out there, teaching students,

‘Preparation, preparation, preparation.’ Just three words, and all the same.

But how do you prepare for things you don’t know? I’d go on about values and virtues all day (and may not even get it right, nor succeed) but at the end of it all, I know one thing for sure.

It was a line from a movie, and the man said to the woman, because she lost trust in the world,

‘If something good happens along the way, you hold onto it, until it’s time to let go.’

Is man selfish, that even in the end, it’s always been a journey with one’s self?

The truth, perhaps, is that journeys are made like adventures. You’re not alone. You’re on your own, but never alone. Something is always out there. For all of us. And how we deal with it, how we overcome, go through… it tells us who we are.

So as far as broken wishes are concerned, I know for sure there were adventures that dealt with more than one wish. And every time a star dies, could a new one be born? I hope so. Even if not, let’s make as many wishes as possible.

After all, they’re wishes. Some of them are bound to come true.

Post 2: Late Nights. Typing Words. Just. Words.

How did I even start writing? I recall those long nights that began in late afternoons, when I'd just returned from school. I was in first year high and I was obsessed with a fanfiction I was making. One chapter led to another and sheer bliss exploded. That was the first time I posted a fictional story in the Internet. And people loved it. Not long after, my father reprimanded me from writing, primarily because I hardly studied at home. I resumed in senior year, where in between I in fact 'snuck' into writing, when the act as I remembered was good and legal.

Too much of anything too bad for ya?

Nah. The good stuff is bottomless. The real good stuff.