16th of July, 2012
Dear Diary
“Life is a journey, a race, a struggle. Life is a dream, in it lays reality and make-believe. Life is a gift. A gift to hold, to guard jealously, so no one can take it. Life is a memory, sometimes a picture, most times a scene. Life is all we have, embrace it” – Pathetic Zi.
Fried Chicken, meat balls in tomato sauce, fried onions and boiled rice – those were the four scrumptious things that made their way down my throat, and possibly, are still on their way to my starved stomach. I had to eat quickly, so there was no time to perform my usual eating ceremony – eating while reading a novel.
It is actually a few weeks till it’s my birthday again. The 26th of August. For the past fifteen years I have celebrated without full satisfaction; always wishing something or someone would be there. I blow my candles out and make a wish that someday, somehow, or even somewhere, that this little person will make the greatest desirable change the world will ever know. And that change shall come from this big heart of mine – that despises hatred, but is forced to hate, cherishes love and compassion but has been called a fool for being human. What more can I hope for? I can only dream and pray that someday my wishes will come true.
Unfortunately, dearest diary, the night draws nigh but I finally found some time to read through my poem book today. As a matter of fact I would like to write you a few poems from my yester-years, dearest diary.
Me, Myself and I
We live but never in harmony. We yank and pull at each other’s hair. We suffocate but live, all in one body. And that body is mine. We are three in one, each possessing one part. Me the body, Myself the soul, And I, the spirit. There is no comparing our abilities. There is no determining our limitations. Still we survive. We depend on one for the other, Yet we deceive and hurt ourselves in many ways the human mind cannot comprehend. The body, seen with the naked eye. The spirit, hidden within the one we call the breath of life. The soul, we know as accountable to God. Yet we possess one body and that body is mine. We live Because we are one
It’s really amazing how time has passed me by and in all these recent years I couldn’t write as good as I used to write. My sadness drove me to want to speak up! But my lips had failed me, so I turned to the only one place where my words could speak volumes. And this is what I wrote (once upon a time):
Heartache
Who would ever understand? Who would ever listen? To the words deep down in my heart. The words that haunt me, The words composed into songs. Who wouldn’t laugh? Who wouldn’t tease? At the words inscribed on my heart. It’s forever hard to explain. It’s forever kept a secret. But it kills me within, Slowly, but surely. Who would look? Who would care to know? Not a soul that isn’t my own. I share my burden But with the book I call my own. It’s indescribable, The words my heart speaks. But to myself I keep. My heart aches, Aches for one thing, For you to listen.
The night has crept up on me! Oh, how time flies! It has been such a long day but I thank God I survived! And so I end this beautiful day with one last poem:
The night could be so peaceful, For those who wish to observe. After the rain falls, Goosebumps are felt as the soft, soothing breeze lands on bare, fine skin. Outside in the world, Soldiers are dying, Children are being born, Songs and melodies are being sang, Bodies are swaying, Prayers are being said. People might be fast asleep, Others working – burning candle lights. Still, many hearts are aching, Some rejoicing, Others in states of confusion. But the night remains undisturbed – A blessing on its own. It is beautiful.
Good night dearest diary. Till I write again
