How many times have we been led on only to be disappointed? It could be anyone, a family member, a friend, a lover.
"Honesty is the best policy." A statement overrated in terms of its usage, yet underrated in terms of its application. No, it's not okay to lie to your kids, leading them on to make them do something, even if it's something good; e.g: "Eat your vegetables or the evil witch lady will come and haunt you.". It is not okay to lie about your grades just to save your ass. It is not okay to lie to a partner even if it's to protect them. It's a simple concept which isn't very hard to grasp: nobody likes being lied to.
But I'm sure each one of us has told a white lie, no? It could be something as simple as saying you have taken out the trash when you actually forgot to do so. It seems harmless, am I not right? But I'll let you in on a little not-so-secret truth about lying: it becomes habit. When we are so used to telling lies, it's always there on the tip of our tongues.
"Big deal, so I lied to save my ass. So what? It's not like anyone got killed."
It's someone's trust that you lose. It's your dignity that you put in jeopardy. Your integrity, your morals. It is you who dies a little inside with each lie. So, do yourself a favour and keep your honesty in check. Man up to face the consequences of your actions because lying to save your ass is the saddest, most pathetic kind of cowardice. Be honest because the only person you'd be lying to is yourself.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
"Two"
Here is something I wrote a while back, a poem. Found it through my old stuff. Just thought I wanted to share this.
"Two"
Ever so unsure
Indecision filled my being
I am contented
But I doubt that you are
Mere mortals we are
Foolish, confused
Left in the dark
To seek His light
A long way ahead
With you for company
I shall walk
Through bright days
Passing stormy nights
The end
I cannot foresee
And I shall not assume
What is to be
Not to be blamed
For such short-thinking and confusion
For we have failed to see
Through the veils
Clouded eyes
Will we leave this unscathed?
I doubt it
Do we care?
Long have we ceased to
But for the other
A tale of two fools
You might say
They are but
For the age of innocence
Have made them just
Vulnerable
Seeking the other
What a tale of
Such foolish mortals be told
Saturday, June 9, 2012
"I'm only human."
Flawed all over, that is me.
I am terribly sensitive. I hurt. I listen, but I never know how to properly respond. I am not good with words. Please don't make this any harder for me. Please understand the position I am in.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Connected
Another talent I wish I had. Painting. |
So, I just got myself broadband to bring back to Kuantan. I will (definitely) be more active online and (hopefully) constantly updating my blog. Although, I usually lack of brilliant things to post here. I just get those moments when I'm inspired to write every once in a while, and I have been smart enough to strike when the opportunity comes.
I was just thinking about it and I realized how I have no actual talent. Which is a depressing realization. Some are just born with it all. And others, like me, just don't have it. Despite being the shy and introvert person I am, I'd say that I have given myself a fair shot at different things. One thing I've always loved doing, ever since I was a little girl, is singing. I had dreams of becoming an actual singer, but I was always so timid and shy. When I grew up, I realized that I do not have the talent to sing. To be fair to myself, I am not tone deaf. I do not sing out of tune or anything, but there is nothing special about my voice.
When I was 7 years old, I picked up ballet, by pure accident. I had thought that I was just registering for a normal or modern dance class. Only when we started classes did I realize what I signed up for. Ballet was certainly fun, but after a while, it was tiring. Back then, school finished at about 3.15 p.m. and then we would have to stay back once a week, on Mondays, until 5 p.m. I would reach home at 5.30 p.m. or so because of the distance of the school from my house. It was tiring. And torturing. Ballet, or just about any form of dance, is all about discipline. With ballet, flexibility and grace is the key. All that bending about sure did hurt. We also had to always tuck our buttocks and stomachs in. Our feet pointed to perfection. When I was 9 years old, the classes were no longer available at my school. I had to go to a nearby clubhouse and that further discouraged me. And so, I decided to forget about it. A decision that I didn't know I would regret up until today. I never even took a single examination.
Then when I switched schools, I was actively involved in sports, namely athletic events, netball and handball. Not that we were good enough to win anything (my school was a new school), but I definitely tried. But it didn't last very long. When I entered secondary school, I just couldn't join athletic events any more because I would always feel out of breath every time I ran. It probably has something to do with my sinus condition. When I was in Form 1, I tried out for my sports house cheerleading. I made the team, most probably because of my incredibly small size back then. Hence, I was made the flyer. You know, the person on top of the pyramid. Somehow, I developed a fear of heights. Which was funny, because I used to be fearless. As a little girl, I climbed rooftops. But when I was made the flyer, I was just so scared of falling when I was up there. And it was only the basic elevator, not even an extension. So again, I pulled out. When I tried again the following year, I was made the supporter, a position I was comfortable with. But I wasn't an exceptionally talented dancer. I took time to pick up dance moves, it didn't just come to me naturally like it did to most people who were born to dance. Which brought me to the conclusion that dancing is something I enjoy, but am not actually talented in.
I've tried writing too. But I never have ideas to write a fiction. Nothing long enough to turn into a novel. Most short stories I write (for SPM) are my versions of stories I've read. I have never come up with something purely original and genius. Even more saddening, as you can judge from the consistency of my blogging, I barely know what to write about myself!
I have no qualms or fears about performing in public anymore. I shall shamelessly admit that I love being in the spotlight. There's always that jittery feeling in my stomach everytime before I perform. But when I'm on stage, out there, all the fears and worries just disappear. I assume a different character. I feel alive. Having said that, even with such confidence, I still don't believe that I possess any actual talent. I am not much of a singer, or a dancer, or an athlete, or a sportswoman, or an actor, or a speaker, or a writer, or, well, anything. So, what am I good at? What is my true calling?
If you actually read this up until the end, well, you've surprised me. Thank you for having read everything I have to say, and I am terribly sorry for having wasted your precious time with my petty ramblings. Truly, I am. But it's nice to know that someone cares. Even out of pity.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Young love
I was always so sceptical about love and relationships, particularly young love. I always thought, what's the point?
It's not like you can be certain he/she is going to be the one you're going to marry.
It's not like it's real.
He only likes her because she's hot. She only likes him because he's cute.
It wouldn't last.
And here I am, years later. Nineteen and madly in love. What is love? Hell, I'm not sure if anyone knows how to define it. Is it the feeling of fondness for someone special? Is it when you're willing to do anything for that one person? Is it when you know he/she is the one you're going to marry?
What do I think? Love is subjective. There is no wrong definition of love. That's the beauty of it. Love is always right. I know most people would say I'm just another lovestruck teenager. Those older might think I'm just young and reckless. Those older might say I am young and I know nothing about what love is. Here is my question to them: You're claiming you know what love is then?
It just feels right. He makes me happy. He makes me sad. He makes me feel beautiful. He makes me laugh. He makes me cry. I don't know if he's the one I'm going to marry. I don't know how much time I would have with him. It could last forever, it could end tomorrow. I do know that I don't want to wait and wonder when I can find out right now. I love him and it doesn't have to make any sense.
Here's to young love everywhere.
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