maybe it's an inability to accept reality.
maybe it's the false sense of self-worth derived from the flawed skeletal frame i use as a yard stick for defining self.
i should be happy doing things that i love. that people say i'm good at. and i enjoy classes. i really do. i suppose it comes down to the fact that i'm just not good enough.
everytime i feel not good enough, it makes me want to stop doing it. i know it's a quitter's mentality and i abhor it. that's why i don't. i keep trying or at least tell myself to not give up.
it's stupid really sometimes. i let one comment get to me so badly i keep harping on it. not outwardly of course. that passes in awhile. but once in awhile it'll resurface in my mind and i feel gosh, maybe this isn't my thing, maybe i'm just not good enough at it. maybe i should stop.
i was a listening to a song just now and i didn't feel like singing along.
but it's when i reflect on things that it feels as though someone's telling me "Look at how far you've come". and for a moment i feel like "woah yea". though the past is just it. past.
[edit] dad just showed me an episode of America's Got Talent which made me go "WOAH" and "woahhhhhhhh" at the same time
thank you daddy, where'd your girl be without u :)
Entry @ 1:38 AM;
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
i'm at the bus interchange and all i hear is the humming of buses. there are only two of us at the berth. in fact there are only two of us waiting for a bus at the interchange. total strangers. yet i realise how similar we are. i realise we are very different as well. it is as if being in a space with only two individuals heightens everything. the space. the quiet. the humming. the connectedness and disconnectedness. but this is broken by the arrival of the bus.
Entry @ 1:07 AM;
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
The Difference between Living and ThrivingA wilting flower asks for water.
"Please save me", she cries to the gardener as the wind threatens to blow her into obivilion.
the gardener sees her potential and water she gets. bit by bit she grow stronger.
the gardener starts to tend more to this flower, giving her fertiliser, and singing songs of colours and joy to encourage her growth.
and one day she truly blooms. the sun rays dance on her petels as the dew trickles off her leaves.
"thank you. thank you." she chants. and hopes to bloom forever and ever so that both the gardener and her can enjoy each other's company.
but the days go buy and her colour starts to fade. fearing for the worst, the gardener tries to give her the best plant food money can buy.
the flower tries her best to appear at her brightest, but to no avail.
"Please save me", she cries, whimpering softly. But water can't save her anymore.
Entry @ 2:05 AM;
Sunday, September 06, 2009