Sup3rnality

And I'm not saying that I'll hold on too long, too strong that come a time, if ever, I won't be able to bow out gracefully. I'm just saying, well, if ever, while even on this high, I'd know how to fall; and while I know how to land on two feet, I won't exactly be whole or unscathed. But that's alright, you know, cos I know what I'm doing.

Although, truth is, I really don't. You see me still lingering in shadows, not haunting, but still a stalwart shadow. And while I hope you don't see this vestige of my self, I hope my presence is felt. And while I understand the reason for my stay, I don't know why I don't check out from having being on a too long waiting list...that is, if I'm even on it.

And sometimes, I don't know what I'm saying, and I don't know why I say all this; but nonetheless, I understand every word. Like the things I do, it makes sense now, and it might not in the future. And yet I say it anyways, for in its public existence, I find a connection that I would otherwise lack in its opposite.

And this is what I do: being a ghost seeking a ghost. Clutching at straws, at things that I want but don't see. And I know that I can't see far enough, but I can see the now; and maybe that's enough for now.

Yours, Lin~

I have been harbouring some fears lately about my involvement in the Explore UK program. Yes, I am elated beyond anything I could possibly explain at the thought of being able to visit the one place that holds much fascination to me. But at the same time, I feel some sort of apprehension at being a part of this.

For those not in the know, I got myself a place among a select few who'll be able to visit UK on a Literature field trip/humanitarian program. There was a poster on the notice board of my faculty, and decided to sign up and see what it was about. After an interview, myself along with 7 others got chosen for this trip; accompanied by some committee members and two lecturers.

The catch, though, is to get sponsors to finance our trip; and that is something we're lacking. And since the proposed trip would be from the 1st to the 7th of May 2008, we have about half a year to look for sponsors. And that is where my fear lies.

Contrary to what you may be thinking now, I am not comtemplating pulling myself out for fear that I am unable to commit. That's not it at all. I feel like I am in my element and I would not pass up this oppurtunity for anything. But what I'm really worried about is that with my hopes sky high, I might fall harder if something does not go right.

I wonder whether we would get enough sponsors in time for the trip. Without sponsors, we would have to bear the expenses on our own, and that would include airfare, accomodations, food on top of the personal expenses. And in the even that this happens, I doubt I'd be able to afford the trip.

It's not that I don't have faith that we won't find any financial support for this trip; it's just that I'm voicing out the one thing that is hindering me from leaping for joy that I'd be able to see UK sometime in the future. It's just this one fear that is hanging at the back of my mind.

I'm sure we'd find enough sponsors in time. I pray for it. And I have faith in myself and this team. I don't want to begin to ponder just how hard it would be to give up what I got and see others go without my being able to be part of it. I can handle rejection well enough, but it doesn't mean it won't hurt.

So here's to hoping that I'd find sponsors who'd be interested in financing a bunch of college kids who'd love literature so much they'd love to see the places where the writers took their inspiration from; walk the streets they walked, see the sights they saw; be in the same space where they once existed and created their brand of art... It would be something of a dream.

Love, Lin~

It bugs me that I don't write all that often anymore. If it was just here, it would not be so much of a problem, since this is only a mere medium to place screams that I would not otherwise vocalize. But the disurbing thought is that I don't even write in journals anymore; and I haven't for the past several years. Yes, I've jotted down thoughts here and there, but nothing subtantial or consistent enough to be called a journal. This bugs me.

If there's one thing I fear (besides the fear of Allah SWT, that is), is dying without having recorded all the thoughts and ideas that have run through my head. It scares me thinking that I could die tomorrow (again, yes, besides the fear of Allah SWT and doing enough rights in this world) and not leave behind all the words that went unspoken. I say more things in my head than in a voice that could be heard, and while I may not want the people around me to hear it at the time, I think there should be a record of what I really thought of the situation and for them to read what really went through my mind.

It may not be much, these things in my head; I have no delusions of being a philosopher of anything, but I do feel that there must be something to show for my existence, and this is how I do it. I find that my strength lies in how I put what I think into words, the way I think it and my point of view; and if I can't leave my mark that way, then I am just as well non-existent.

I hope I find in myself to write more than just when the urge strikes me. I hope my hand is never devoid of a pen to hurry along blue ink against my canvas to create blue swirls of words. I hope that there is incessant tapping on this keyboard daily to have proof of my living and existing.

Love, Lin~

And sometimes things get so crazed that I don't see the path in front of me. I can't see the things staring at me in the face. I cannot see where all of this is going. Where this will be ten years down the line. Where I'll be. What I'll do. I'm so blinded. Sometimes I cannot really see what I want.

And I'm sorry for comparing. I'm sorry I opened only a small space in my heart for fear of hurt. For fear that again I'd spiral down this long, lonely slope again and forget who I am. I'm sorry that I forgot I have a heart big enough to accomodate the world. I'm sorry I forgot. I'm sorry you found me at the wrong time. I'm sorry I never took long enough to get to know you, my defences were built too high up for you then.

It lies heavy in me this emptiness. A burden that is hollow. And I seem to have forgotten what fits there. I've forgotten what fills the spaces when I'm on my own. Sometimes I knock on occupied homes just to know someone's in there. And when they come to the door, I don't know what to say. I smile at them and wish I had the words that makes up the particles of myself, but I can't. And this is your doing. No, sorry, I won't put the blame on you. It is my doing, because of losing you. And you, too. And oh yes, you.

And I wish things were different. But I know I can say it a thousand times over, hell, I have said it a thousand times over; and I'll still be in the middle of this hollow room. But I would, you know; I would have done the things I should have. Then you wouldn't have been left out in the cold. You would't have needed to try. I would have already been there before you say anything.

And again and again, these words would only remain as words. Horses don't ride in these space of thoughts. And even if they did, they'd have nowhere to go. No reason to run. They'd be all at a standstill.

And time is at a standstill. There'd still be this vacuum even as the seconds tick by. Waiting for a moment. Waiting. And I'd leave this door open for you. This door will always be open for you.

Love, Lin~

P/s: And all that you think you know, isn't necessarily what is.

And maybe it is not for naught. I believe again. Well, for the moment...

Yours, Lin~

And again I think we've dropped it along the way. Or maybe we didn't. Maybe we dragged it along with us, heavy in our hands that it tore open and spilled out whatever was left inside. And all we have now is the handles in our hands and nothing to hold up. Nothing. Or are the handles still something?

Who's to say? I may not know how to sew. Well, not well enough to hold the weight for long, that is. Maybe for a little while I can. But if this gets too heavy again, we'll find them scattered all over the floor. We should learn to patch it up. Learn to sew things together and make it hold a little stronger. May not be the same, but I guess that don't matter. At least we've learned how to sew. At least we know how heavy this can be and we'd know how to mend it.

I ain't complaining. We can leave this here and not look at it again. But that's just it. Can we leave it be and not turn around and decide to just take it and keep it? I for one am always sentimental, holding on to things that have long lost its life just for its sentimental value. So can we really let this lie here forgotten? Lying in the dust, among the fallen leaves? No one will ever find it and
that's how it would stay.

Knowing me, I'll never. Too weak, too sentimental, too.... I don't know. But that's how it is for me. I'd keep it. I'd keep my side of the handle. You can leave yours, but I'll hold mine. It's important for me to have a piece of something of I've owned. I need to have a memory of it kept close and dear. Reminds me that my mind is not as screwed up as I thought it was....

So, here's to this heavy luggage. I can't hold it up, it's too heavy. But I'm proud of it, won't change it for anything. Do you want yours? Can you sew?

Yours, Lin~