i have been thinking...no so much, and not so thoroughly, but i have been thinking. 

about...life.

more precisely, my life.

 

who told you im just goofy?   i take things seriously too.

 

wierd enough, i woke up at 5 am this morning. 

people who know me know that i usually toss and turn in my bed till its late enough to miss the first class.   but this morning i woke up myself.

            at 5 am. 

i partly blame the firework outside.  unbelievably loud explosion continued for about 30 minutes, and i was wide awake in my bed, staring outside of the window, thinking of ... my life.

 

since last X'mas, i have been acting not myself.  is this a part of growing?  do people wane after their blooming ?  do i have to always absorb new concepts that i meet and change my self?  i mean, people do that, but what if what we have become is nothing we appreciate ?  waht if old days were way way way colorful? what if wut uve become doesnt appeal as much to you compared to wut u used to be? do we still want the change? 

 

lately ive been having this rediculously calm attitude towards my boredom.  maybe its coming from the relief of my SAT score being reported to Sophia. finally.  

 

but maybe its because my life routine has become a cliche, just...nothing more to be impressed about.  i laugh and smile and get along with people, make jokes and all , but wuts the point? yeah, socialize, sure.  but im no longer pleasing myself.  im no longer satisfying myself.  im no longer making myself happy.  nothing s wrong, yet nothing seem to be right. 

 

thats the really scary part .  thats the thing i fear the most.  just a horizontal plain.  no valley, no horn, no nothing.  not even a cactus.  its white, and its plain.  there is a girl in pink pants and moss green top with short, smooth hair playing with a ball on the left side of that plain picture.  she bounces and bounces and bouces the ball, endlessly, continuously, without looking away.  sometimes the ball gets out of her hand,disappearing from the picture frame, and she hurries to get the ball , worrying she might lose it. and then this warm, lovely smile will come up on her face when she catches it.  she then will return to where she used to stand, and keep bouncing and bouncing...

 

sometimes i call out to her, she holds her ball with two tiny hands and turns her head back.  when she sees its me, her face would wrinkle so bad from grinning so hard. 

 

no matter how many times the ball bounces off, she goes on and catches it, and keeps bouncing.  

 

the ball is my heart.  everytime my heart runs away from reality, she runs off and gets it back. bringing me back to the plain, white picture. 

 

she handles the ball well, but when the sky is too blue or the road too grey, or its too bright to open her eyes to look up the sun, she lets go of the ball. 

 

or maybe the ball loses its control. wanting to bounce higher and higher to reach the sun,

---- like Icaros.  only in the end, his wax wings melts as he gets closer to the sun and he falls down from the sky and die. 

 

the girl in her pink pants has been with her ball for this many years, theyve known each other from top to tail, inside out. 

 

she calls the ball honey. 

 

the ball bounces back with love.

 

my dearest person in the world, ake, this piece is for u.