Thursday, October 30, 2008
i guess life has its own way of tiring people out.
we never wanted to hope;
knowing that hoping would only bringing more pain when it doesn't go in the desired direction.
but yet,
it happens, subconciously.
and somehow,
the pain only gets worst when we realise that we've succumbed to this subconcious hope;
like we've betrayed our wills,
and stepped on a path we never knew we were taking.
like we were lost.
yet,
this hope that infests in us,
heals us as it harms us.
slowly,
but definitely,
the very same hope builds us up,
from what it tore down.
we'll be built better;
but that would mean a worst fall in the future.
a vicious cycle.
like the conquering of a nation:
war and killing,
then the rebuilding in hope of a better one.
just like the calm before the storm -
silent, peaceful and comforting, even,
but yet,
it brings about an ominous feeling:
the sense that something bad is going to happen,
but you can't help liking it,
and thus dismiss the bad thought.
then the storm happens,
and you start to blame yourself for being so stupid,
to actually think that that calm feeling would last.
however,
when the rain stops,
and the world gets lighted up in its glorious colours,
you'll see that the hope that things were good was never given up,
just buried under other human feelings.
but what happens when you don't heal?
when you never find the path that you conciously chose;
when the war never stops, and the killing continues;
when the world never orbitted the same way it did;
when hope has taken so much away from you,
that you don't even realise what's happening anymore.
when hope has killed you internally; your soul,
what happens to your broken body?
what happens when hope has tired you so much,
that dying doesn't sound that bad anymore?
we never wanted to hope;
knowing that hoping would only bringing more pain when it doesn't go in the desired direction.
but yet,
it happens, subconciously.
and somehow,
the pain only gets worst when we realise that we've succumbed to this subconcious hope;
like we've betrayed our wills,
and stepped on a path we never knew we were taking.
like we were lost.
yet,
this hope that infests in us,
heals us as it harms us.
slowly,
but definitely,
the very same hope builds us up,
from what it tore down.
we'll be built better;
but that would mean a worst fall in the future.
a vicious cycle.
like the conquering of a nation:
war and killing,
then the rebuilding in hope of a better one.
just like the calm before the storm -
silent, peaceful and comforting, even,
but yet,
it brings about an ominous feeling:
the sense that something bad is going to happen,
but you can't help liking it,
and thus dismiss the bad thought.
then the storm happens,
and you start to blame yourself for being so stupid,
to actually think that that calm feeling would last.
however,
when the rain stops,
and the world gets lighted up in its glorious colours,
you'll see that the hope that things were good was never given up,
just buried under other human feelings.
but what happens when you don't heal?
when you never find the path that you conciously chose;
when the war never stops, and the killing continues;
when the world never orbitted the same way it did;
when hope has taken so much away from you,
that you don't even realise what's happening anymore.
when hope has killed you internally; your soul,
what happens to your broken body?
what happens when hope has tired you so much,
that dying doesn't sound that bad anymore?
what we could have been, 9:22 PM.
