27 July, 2008.

A year and 8 months have gone by since I last wrote in here.

I wonder if anyone still reads this blog? I know I do. Whenever I feel like revisiting the person I was, whenever I wonder how it is like to be merely a child, I come back here. Even if it has only been a mere 20 months - a relatively short span of time if you will consider the years behind and ahead of me - the girl who wrote all the entries preceding this one is no longer me.

I've been trying to write again. Stories of love and romance. It is difficult, though. Tougher than how I remember it to be. Nevertheless, I have crossed the 1000-word mark, and I suppose it calls for a bit of a celebration. Only, the 1000-words don't seem to mean much. They either appear too serious or too trite, depending on the different times I reread them.

It feels oddly liberating to be writing on a public domain again. Between 31 October '06 and this date, I've only been blogging for my eyes, and my close friends'. Somehow, it feels nice to return to here, this haven which I resided in during my JC years.

Maybe I will write here again, or maybe this will be the last post. But goodbye doesn't mean forever, so we will see.

And I still tread on this path we call Life. It's not well-worn, not clearly defined from the thousands of footsteps that have trodded over it. Because it's my path alone to walk, and the entirety that lies before me is as yet un-ventured forth by me. I can only walk ahead the best that I can. There isn't going to be any signposts pointing me in the right direction to go. I'll take the wrong path as it forks out into the fabled two, and I wouldn't know, because in this path of Life, the two paths aren't clear in their distinctions; they are not one of darkness and one of light. I'll take the wrong path, and I'll take responsibility for it. That's the way it goes.

But something is only wrong when you yourself feels it's wrong.

Eighteen is far too young to be jaded and cynical. I could never understand people who were so cynical and pessimistic in the things they did, the way they thought, the way they regarded people. I thought they were leading a life that couldn't possibly be fulfilling. Life is very bleak without optimism and innocence. You don't know how beautiful it is to look at the world through rose-colored lenses. There is no judgement, no pain. Just wide-eyed innocence and delight that this world is so beautiful. I don't know if someone whipped my rose-colored spectacles off me, or if I removed them myself. Sometimes reality gets too stark, too harsh. And you try to find back those rose-colored lenses. But you find that the degree isn't right anymore. And when that happens, it doesn't correct your imperfect vision. It only exacerbates it.

Right now, I think I'd give anything to be simple-minded. My head is going to burst soon, if I keep up with this, at this rate. I should think you can die from thinking too much.

This is not a resurrection, this is the end. My farewell post for this blog, because I never properly said goodbye, did I? This has been my emotional crutch for the past one year or so, but somehow, it got hacked out from under me. And I can do without it now.

So goodbye.

I think I'm shutting this thing down. Am pretty tired out.

Goodbye.