\/|\/`

Writing used to make so much sense to me. If I couldn't solve a problem, at least I could write about it. Blogify the whole thing such that the problem seems so much more romanticised and easy. To make the matter feel like it's just a small part of my life that makes it beautiful.

I remember how blogging was so important to me in the interim period between Sec 3 and 4, when so much happened to me. Looking back, the entries reveal nothing much. I am never good at coming out and saying what I mean. Not when my sister is reading this; not to mention random people from Mindef and USA.

Things are so much more difficult now. It seems like as I get older - and no, I am not getting younger at all - the more complex things appear. Simple things that I could shrug off or things that I didn't even know about now bug me.

It's something like how you see the world as how it's supposed to be in your mind, where everyone is supposed to treat people properly, and war is supposed to be the last resort, and lying is supposed to be uncommon as HIV is supposed to be, and how people are supposed to be able to speak what they feel, how everyone shouldn't have walls around them, how there is supposed to be true love, how there shouldn't be gays, how there shouldn't be a hole in the ozone, how everyone ends up happily ever after.. all these..

As I live longer and grow up, I find everything a fallacy. I know more, I am sure of less. Pocahontas hates the white guy who comes to take her land instead of falling in love with him while teaching him an invaluable lesson on the intangibles of life. They lead cruel lives filled with anger and the desire for revenge which eventually leads to suppression, death and destruction.

Been feeling really frustrated yesterday and today. Why exactly? I cannot tell. Is it actually possible to generate your own frustration? Like I think that I should be frustrated, therefore I am frustrated. If this kind of things happen, how do I turn it off? This stupid self-sabotage is killing me like how the phlegm is killing my throat right now.

I guess I know why I am upset and even to the extent of being depressed, but I don't know the reason why that thing is causing me so much anguish. Arggh.. that really sucks.

There is a perfect umbrella we all have in our heads. But we never get to use it. Simply because that umbrella doesn't exist for you like how the perfect world doesn't exist. We like certain umbrellas over others, yet the fact that we can never use them hurts us to the very core. The fear of rejection and the rejection itself that is played out in our heads are enough to deter us from ever using another umbrella. Better be drenched in the rain and act brave and romantic than be found with an umbrella that would break in the darkest storms.

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Blue birds fly;
Why then oh why,
Can't I?

P.S. By the way, the entry title was inspired by the shape of an origami crane. I know Mr Suan bashing people (I won't say who) would say it doesn't look like a crane. But who cares?