halfnhalf

halfnhalf

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I made an impact in people's expectations of me. Their doubt is extinct, all that's left is a crater of my coming to. I woke up in the blitz that took me, a swirling storm of bills and trauma. Well, what do you think of me now? The answer flies away in the wind, I've already left.

I slip into the seaside view, a daydream to take me away from this didactic boredom. This pedagogical pedigree brought down upon me, lecturing me with a unreasonable force - disallowing debate. Do I sit and open my ear, turn it so as to tune in a better sound? Or do I bow and scrape to every instruction. I wish to simply leave - to escape to this actual seaside view and much more, touch, taste, and smell!

Sift through emotions to find that golden nuggets. Invest in yourself and it will bring you emotional and situational awareness. A fisher-person perfecting their technique is suddenly you, who navigates peers, individuals, and strangers. You who is come to for advice and you who deescalates situations.

We end this story how we began. The scenes are juxtaposed. Similar in almost every panel, every syllable but different in the most minute - but perceptible images. Footprints to handprints. Dust to ash. We look out into the Van Gogh night and see swirling stars and harsh swirls amidst jagged bold streaks. We cannot ever conceive of a happy ending. It must always end vague to let the mind wander and suppose more of the story. We must allow the reader/viewer to fill the gaps in their dreams.

lack

How poignant, to be confronted with the most fitting word to describe a lack thereof. Like quicksand, I fall into its comfort and I am drowned by grain. I seek to practice good habits but I fall into the same old habits. I know to be mindfull, I must gather up the courage. I know I must be courageous to ever have my mind full of wisdom. I may lack current confidence but I will combat this with a soft calm as I welcome the swallowing sands.

metro

Subway bullet trailing through the vacuous tunnels. I see the light reflected off the opaque walls to my left. It ushers the coming of the train in the deep of the metro. An announcer soothes us with their sweet voice, and tells us to step back lest we be in dangers way. Well I know the way. I watch the train from the corner of the platform, behind the yellow line but far from the two possible exits to ground level. I stand beside the blue light flashing sirens telling me of its impending arrival. I look at the driver dead in their eye and let the silver bullet wash my eyes with its blinding speed. The train in the metro becomes a silver wall upon its arrival. I do not step in.

He hung plates on his wall. The circular decorations made his walls vibrant and every guest saw landscapes in the porcelain mirrors. They were from an upscale dining store in Manulife Center.

ferry

We took the ferry across Ontario Lake to Center Island in my hayday. It was a crisp morning with the fog just nipping at my skin. I had a friend there with me, the son of my mother's co-worker. In ten years, I'll meet him and we will look at each other and say that we recognize each other - but nothing will come of it. We spend the entire day at Center Island and rely on the ferry to bring us back from this fantasy world, back to reality like Charon navigating the river Styx.

A wedding is a solemn ceremony, formulated at the end of Rennaisance. It started with the dowry as the original ritual; however, as that no longer applied to modern relationships, it developed into the ceremony of the exchange of rings. Further, elucidated, this ceremony included the solemnization by a priest - who, by power of the Church, made it law - and thus, we have our sanctimonious wedding ceremony.

I've adapted to this modern existence. Tied my shoes. Avoided addiction. Yet I still fill unfulfilled, perhaps its because I'm a millennial, perhaps it's because I'm just a regular 20 something year old, perhaps I've yet to ever achieve a gold. Never been at the peak, just falling in the medium. I kind of have to say that's okay. I'm coming to terms with it. I've adapted.

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writing since 2011 · 195 entries · 191 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Eric showed up.

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191days written

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on this day 10 years ago

Eric wrote about cute
“Meet cute, a deep rooted classroom friendship has grown to this off-campus huddle over soup. The button nosed Tamil girl eats the hot-pot slowly and I fall into the depth of her ladle like one of tho…”

the words Eric reaches for

nowuponmindheadanotherformlostitselfslightamongsthardpastaireyesfearwhite