I am currently speechless. Maybe I am angry at myself. Maybe I'm angry at life itself. I envy the intelligence of others. An intelligence that seems to be always there, unchanging. It is unlike mine, triggered by either clarity of thought or intensity of pressure. It is not intelligence that am envy of, it is its unchanging nature. Because deep down, an intelligence, a sensitivity that changes is uncertain, wavering, fragile. Such qualities are prone to failure. While I believe failure being good in the long scheme of things, they are failure nonetheless. And failures hurt people. Often those whom you care and love too.

Such is not without solution however as this intelligence is triggered by pressure which is induced by failure. But it doesn't change the hurt like how it changes my intelligence.

While I can repeatedly learn from the error of my ways, I also learned to fear. What if I weren't so "lucky" next time? I may never get a chance to learn about my mistakes again. Life often offers only limited chances. God has almost always favored me enough to present the option of redemption. But I fear deeply that my next failure won't be as kind to me. My current failure may not even be. Even though I wish, with every fiber of my being that it would.

I guess life is ultimately unkind. It challenges you, asks difficult questions, presents no way out only to save you in the very end. Some fall and let go before it pulls them up. I won't. There is simply too much to lose, too much that I have lost, too much that I will lose, and too much to look forward to.

I shall sign off with a piece of something that always manage to calm my heart.

It calms the present but looks towards the future. It is a piece that is like a bird flying across a calm lake. Always loved it. And I believe everything will be fine. For every door closed, there will be a window. And if the window closed, a chimney for me to climb.

Hello world.


Ha... On hindsight, I sound as pretentious as ever, loathing myself as if I have the right to do so. To sum all these up, three words: I am sorry.

It hurts much more to hurt others than to get hurt yourself... Ah... The hardest two days in my life. I do wish I can cry sometimes, the feeling of everything holding up in me is sometimes really... Too much to bear... Why... Why can't I save anyone, friends or family. What is my point of existence if I can't even realize my dream on the tiniest of scale?