a mere question

September 30th, 2006 at 02:38:11 PM

what do you live for?

i'll post my answer after you give yours.
don't forget to read what others have to say.

edit:

i live to be truly free.
i live to waste myself on The Search.
i live to know and not just wonder.
i live for the leap and the collision.
i live for the fork in the road.

a mere gesture

September 16th, 2006 at 04:24:23 PM

her shapely lips are barely apart, teasing me with the anticipation of her voice. her eyes, large brown orbs that glimmer behind glasses balanced delicately on the tip of her nose, give her a look of sophistication. hand against her cheek, she stares deeply into her laptop screen, brushing aside a few strands of shiny brown hair. I am entranced. Our eyes meet above our laptops. for a moment, our separated worlds seem to clash and connect. it's a strange sensation, what many call butterflies in the stomach. And for that split second, I wonder how it resembles butterflies, as it feels more like a quivering flame trying to fight against the wind. As I secretly cherish the fainting sensation, I realize we are still worlds apart. I wonder the consequences of a smile, a mere gesture. I wonder if it would change everything.

limbo

August 19th, 2006 at 05:33:53 PM

I feel like I’m in limbo.

I’m stuck in that wretched place, few steps behind the finish line, where I can surmount or crumble. It’s that place behind the tipping point, where the seesaw of life teases its riders: success on one side, utter failure on the other. I, the aloof boy, can only watch, my feet glued to the ground. It’s that place, where for once, everything seems to be out of your hands, when you're waiting on the doctor, the test-returning professor, the intimidating audience, or that heart-tearing call. It’s that place where you feel this itch to do something, because you want control, you always want to be control. You tell yourself you like change, adventure, but deep inside, who doesn’t want to be in control. Who wants to be tossed back and forth by the whims of life, unable to steer their own ship to the destinations of their desire. We are prisoners to the random, to the ethereal powers behind the seemingly logical. We are at the strings of this puppeteer that we fear in our prayers, quivering within the deepest, most purest part of us that dares to acknowledge the truth—the truth that we are never really in control.

So I wait. Wanting to touch. Wanting to revise. Wanting to make another move. Wanting to do something about it, but I can’t…or can I?