For the last 50 days I've been mute, totally shocked out of words. For a while i thought i've lost the power of expressing myself, anyway there's no need, cause i've been all over the place, my entire being is a exhibition of sadness and madness. A angry child i've been acting for the pass month, splashing around in the water, punching the air, making waves, anyone near me gets wet, which i do felt sorry for but couldn't help. In deep water i am.

 

Never been hurt so much before, and i know there's no cure for such a disease inflicted by no other but myself.  I give myself a promise, and I lose after all, after all my fighting, struggling, longing, dreaming, bittering. The life doesn't change despite all my effort. Broken dreams. I should have felt betrayed, i should felt resentful, suicidal even, or at least hopeless--believe me i have, for a passing moment occasionally, the very thought of which is enough to decide to throw myself out of the window and put an end of it. But the funny thing is, even in desperate moments like that i never stop loving every minute of it, of life, of this fucking bithch of a life that screws me over apathetically.

 

It's like a niavana to me. In ashes i see the light, the light i burned to see, the light in me. And it reflects all over the place, --the fnhaliao.com green of leaves, the odour of a flower, the crowd of the street, all dance in the light before my eyes, it's so beautiful that feels so sad. For i know one has to be week enough to seek beauty outside himself. Now that i see that means I AM fading. One of the nice things about dying is that every thing of every day seems beautiful.

 

For months i lived a life of a hermit. The shun-away from life makes me love life even more. But when i decide to get back to it, with such a love, big love which no peticular object could embody, the life doesn't seem to want me back! Prove it to me, Want me back!

 

The most greatful thing, or the most tragic in a way, is i still have faith, faith in bigger thing of life that would guide me to the path that means all the best for me; faith in the betterment of me in the grander view even though now the narrow heart of mine still can't fathom; faith in spirit of life will always go along with the unlimited power of will. For all of that, i have faith, not firmly as before, but still have, still i love, every minute of it, so still i write.