Greetings and warm welcomes to my blog. From rants, to complaints, to ponderings and the random ramblings of the soul. The complications of a normal teenager and a sneak-peek to the workings of my
mind. Who are you to judge? (header image is not mine. credits rightfully belongs to abyss@TDA)

Monday, September 10, 2012


A bubble of chatter floated round the group that was nothing but a distant hum at the back of a young girl’s mind as she sat silently amongst them, withdrawn to the deep recesses of her mind as she observed each one.

One threw a hurtful comment her way and she laughed it off with the rest of them. She was sure he meant it as a joke, but...was it really? Again, the same question she’d been spending the last few minutes pondering raised itself. She cared for all of them but did they care for her the same way? Within this question lay a bunch of other questions like ‘was this worth it?’, ‘would they do the same for her?’, and ‘what is true anymore?’. She chewed down on her lower lip to conceal its trembling and she wondered why she even doubted. Didn’t she decide to be faithful and trust in them? So why was it so difficult to not overthink things? One of her so-called ‘friends’ turned to her with a smile and a comment and she smiled back and sent a retort his way.

Physically, she was present but all her actions were done in an absentminded manner. All she wanted was not to doubt any of them, but is that not what she was doing now? Philosophies, facts…every aspect that made up life – it was as the wind. Even if you lived forever, there were different angles, perspectives and different types of winds that you could never completely catch, understand, or see. So why was she bothering herself trying to make sense of it all? Simple, she did not want to live in ignorance – even when she knew being out of ignorance of everything was impossible.

A memory surfaced in her mind. When she was small, she visited a very sick relative with her grandfather. He was her grandfather’s brother. He was bed-ridden and very weak. They exchanged greetings and warm welcomes. Actually, it was more like she and her grandfather gave greetings. The man could hardly speak; only make grunts and sounds. Before they left, they gathered around his bed and prayed for him. He cried. At the time, she could not understand why. Her grandfather said it was because the man knew he was sick. It was tears of regret, pain, difficulty, and confusion.

People who are different from other people – they know they are different. These differences confuse them, rendering them psychologically tortured. Is it right to be different? Principles and what they believe to be truth clash. Should the person be in a mental hospital? Or was she just another of those people like the heroes of history who believed in something different than everybody else and stood for what she believes? So many different perspectives to each scene – how was she to know which was the exact truth anymore?

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