23 November, 2008

So yesterday I have learnt about creative writing during English lesson. I couldn’t write a stunning one like Mr. Murugan’s, and mine is nothing compared to a novelist’s. But I am pretty convinced that this not-so-impressive essay could make a difference someday.

Searching for a tune of bittersweet melody, things just seemed starting to rhyme when people are already on the journey of seeking the dreams. Keeping myself awake at this breezy midnight, I can feel the coldness coming from outside, just like the way I am feeling deep in my heart’s core.

A moment of eternal bliss once took my heart away, soared it high, up into the sky but this very moment vanishes into thin puffs of air in just a blink of eyes. Now, your blithe ignorance of my tortured soul causes me running away from my fear of what comes tomorrow, from what the future might hold, and from all the pain I keep inside of me.

Blinded by pride, you failed to see how these eyes have wept before you although now they can weep no more. You have made them once sparkled with life and gaiety, and now you too, made them stared into space, void and empty. Yet, I am still trying to remember when the love you planted turned away from me, when the weather changed from a warm evening breeze to freezing rain.

To Him I pray night by night; hoping all that I did, will you say right.
To Him I ask, mine you forgive; every single wrong, this long I’ve made.

Until this second, I’m still all right. I look into the mirror and see this medium average person. I am average, not stunning, not ugly; do not expect much, am never too disappointed. A little tired, a little sad, but not falling apart.

If thoughts of mine reach yours this night,
do bear in mind forever:
I heart you all these times.

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