Mirrorrorrim

No picture today. I do have many nice ones I've taken particularly of buildings in the past few days. Especially the one outside my homeroom.

Clouds in Potong Pasir are really unbelievably beautiful (photoshopped by God).

There are several things I've learned today:
1. Sit in an absolutely silent room and slowly you will hear only your own heartbeat and breath and the high-pitched scream that has existed since the dawn of man.

2. Look at a mirror, which is more you?

3. This was in conversation with Wanda whow as talking about how grown-ups like to talk to us like we're quite...stupid ( I can't find a better word ). Sometimes people don't talk not because they have nothing to say, but because the people around them don't listen.

And I've spent the past week, just listening for the majority of time.

To Vivaldi, to Bach, to Beethoven, to E.S Posthumus, to Wheezer, to the radio, to my teachers, to the cars that pass by, to the birds, to an indian construction worker who was singing as I passed by and smiled at him, to the flowers, to the wind- to try to understand.

what?

I do not know, but I think its just buried in each person, this search to fill this void.

And I am told that that void is reserved for God, which is not illogical since I've had more time to spend with God or thinking about God since I don't really have people to converse with.

Mrs. Tan said, "You must speak more, you are so quiet."

I really appreciated that, even if I might not obey that request to a great extent, because when I listen to people, whoever they are, the people I don't know sitting talking at the kopitiam, the people on the trains, everywhere- they say the same thing in the end.

"Shut up"

"I have something to say, shut up and hear it."

How often do we just hear what people have to say? We hear it while we think about what we want to say. While they talk we think about what we want to say, and while we are talking we are thinking about what we want to say, even while we are saying what we want to say.

Who is listening?

So why speak only to be heard and not understood? My whole life I've been searching for understanding. My own mother doesn't understand me and she apologises for it, and its honestly not her fault- I am quite a strange person and have never opened up to her much. My father understands me better so I like to talk to him because he is a thinker and somewhat an introvert similiar to me although he thinks better. Wei Yang understands me because we both share similiar faults (anger), and Anthea understands me perhaps out of all people the best. When she doesn't (and for a long time she didn't) she tries so hard to. When she does but doesn't like that part of me, she tries to accept it, and if it really is that bad (case in point= my temper) she tells me.

So I am here now in a place where I am not understood, and the parts that are not understood (though I can't say for sure) are probably not being very accepted (and probably discussed, though probably not in a derogatory manner), and not being told whats going on.

And no one wants to listen. When the answer is just sitting in another person's head, or even out there but just forgotten in the midst of other thoughts clamouring to get the most attention.

Why?

think.

I am not being anti-social. I am being pro-social. Nietszche himself (read the papers) said that people who say more about themselves are trying to hide themselves, and through that, I who am so silent am honest. If we can't be honest, how can we really appreciate one another for who we really are?

It is not a one off thing. Not a sweet saying, not a smile, not a thank you, not asking how my day is. A relationship is time. time, time, time, time.

Its the only thing that you ever really own in your life.

time.

And so when you want to show you care you give that which is most precious- the only thing that you own. Time.

I can't feel it. I am quite content to gaze at the shore from a small distance away in a sinking boat and do nothing about it because I can swim. Of course I am rather more physically comfortable on dry land, but no one can see you weep when you swim. You hurt me.

and I apologise to myself for my inability to forgive those who do apologise.

Now the fragrance of a freshly bloomed bunch of frangipanis bring me more delight than anything else in a day.

And to those who would want to turn me away as easily as they took me in.

"Molon Labe"