A carrot and stick approach

I. We're almost there

Two years of slogging all down to a dozen or so papers.
A dozen or so papers all down to one result slip.
One result slip - a passport to a million possibilities in life.
A million possibilities in life, but only one path to choose.

Sometimes i just wish i had 9 lives to live so that I'll still have 1 extra chance to make the right choice after screwing up the previous 8 ones.

II. A bright spot in the midst of dreary gloom

Went out with phaive-eh on fri after a rather worrying econs paper 1. It was a tiring but certainly fulfilling night for the mind, soul, and especially the tummy (: Ate delicious japanese curry at liang court and then ambled around the singapore river while doing retarded stuff (: Den had a nice chat with boiboi on the way home. One of the most purrrfect nights i've had in weeks.

Went out again for lunch after physics paper 3. Haha whoops i felt quite bad for making everyone walk so far but i hope the nice food made up for it! This goes to show that you shouldn't place your entire faith in streetdirectory.com. But then again, i would have been a clueless, stranded tourist if not for that.

III. Compassion

When deep-seated hurts become physically visible, there is always


You can: kick it, punch it, squeeze it, hug it, trample on it, scream at it, dress it up (or down). But above all, love it as a child loves his soft toys. That's the only thing that sustains it's warmness and ensures that the harsh and arbitrary passage of time does not wear it out.

IV. Fitting the puzzle pieces together

And there we stood,
An arm's length apart,
Feet firmly rooted to the ground,
Just barely out of each other's embrace.

Oh, but pardon those beguiling eyes,
For it had the mark of a mona lisa smile,
Introspectively peering on with an intent, fixated gaze.
An angel's innocence with a devil's stony stare.
So temptingly dear but yet so strikingly bare.

In your left hand, a dangling carrot swung.
Hypnotically, enticingly - like the hand of a grandfather's clock,
It ticked time away, steadily and ever so surely.
Most damningly, I yearned for it.
But thankfully, there was this mask of veneer (and also that calm whisper).
That, indeed, was the sorry suspect of my intuition.

Still, my limbs were numb.
Each trembling ripple through the body masked a soul in resounding fits.
I was weak,
but it was weakness that drove my resolve.
__________

Hasty contemplation and an iron will beat down that surge of fervency into submission.
It was painfully fulfilling to exercise such self-restraint and to eventually succeed.

With new found hope, I drew a line between our toes,
Marking one side as 'wrong', and the other - the side 'less wrong'.
I'll never know which side i'm on,
Until the day where a good samaritan passes by,
And bends down to wash out that divide.

Too long and too little but too bad.

I. Jumbled thoughts of a forgotten past

- An outpouring of love so great that tears welled up in his eyes.
- It is so peacefully sad how certain things can just slide out of your life unnoticed.
- A dormant exterior with an exploding interior.
- A passing calm before the storm.
- Seeing them fall from firm foundations. Indeed, I have the capacity and potential to just do that. But then again i believe that in the end their wrong will be made right.
- Chilling serenity.

II. Problems then and now

My moral fibre has rended again.
I can't make a judgement call,
For who am I to judge at all?

Somehow, this steadfastness has leaked from my soul.
It came strongly, but left eerily softly.
Ignorance on my part perhaps?

But then I saw you again.
And as I often do, I asked myself,
How can you always stay that strong?
I have tried to emulate your strength,
But I am not you, nor will I ever be.

So then,
What's wrong with taking the middle ground?
What's wrong with manipulating someone towards a good end?
Arguably, doing so has an element of respect and patience (alongside much love).
Moreover, an explicit expression of good intentions may just cut people up even worse.

Still,
The means don't justify the ends.
And once again,
it harks back to the same old question,
Who am i to judge which way is better?

On a more positive note,
This inner turbulence is indicative of change - change for the better.

But why must I be so sure of it?
Why should I look upon the world with those rose-tinted glasses?
They only make me momentarily optimistic but blind me from the cold, hard truth.

Perhaps all I can do now is to pray harder and wait quietly.
Please, I really do need a moment of peace,
So that I can discern between his voice and my own noise.

On a final note, I am really thankful for this.
But woe to me on the day that he tells me that i am finally mature enough.

III. Tranquility

It seemed so edifying to stream alongside the singapore river while rain poured down from the sky.
The scenery was bare - bleak. grey. solemn.
Lonesome indeed; because my surroundings were lacking the usual hustle and bustle one would expect of a CBD.

Towering skyscrapers filled the background. They stood tall, but nonetheless remained as dark, insignificant silhouettes subservient to the sky's fury.
As i trudged on, a small boat came into view. It chugged along beneath the bridge, going past me without so much as a smile.
Despite being void of people, the boat remained ignorant; unfeeling towards its own sorrowful solitude (but it had always been that way).

Puddles of water were littered all over the concrete pavement.
The steady pitter-patter of the rain nursed them into life as they grew from small puddles into larger pools of water.
Interestingly, dragging my feet into them felt chillingly fresh. Waves of coldness jolted through my body and shocked my mind out of its seemingly aimless state.

In front of me, a couple of people leaned against the marble wall and puffed away nonchalantly.
It seemed uncouth and uncaring, almost vulgar.
Still, it reeked of absolute coolness.
And it suddenly dawned upon me that being cool often mitigated against life's miseries and hardships. sigh.

I crossed the bridge.
Before me, people were sitting under the protective cover of the museum's porch.
Gloomy, impatient, bored. Some visibly crest-fallen too.
'Why not come and play under the rain? You know, it can wash away sadness and despair!"
Well, screw that naivety. Utter brainlessness and immaturity.

And there before me was this curtain of water gushing down the side of the building.
Ha, an unexpected urban waterfall in the unlikeliest of places.
For a moment, it seemed to augur change in utter lifelessness and desolation.
But that was just wishful thinking.

Beneath the walls of the building lay a safe haven free from the stingingly chilly rain.
And after expressing my gratitude for such marvelous creations, I finally stepped inside.
Behind me, the sun peeked out from the swarm of angry clouds, as if ushering in a new spring.

Then, I spoke to her.
She handed me the goods,
And my melancholy faded as I glanced through its contents.

IV. Confused and lost

Weary headbanging.
Thud thud thud it goes,
As the heart beats out of sync,
And the mind wonders what the hell is going on.

Ich werde in die Tannen gehen
Dahin wo ich sie zuletzt gesehen
Doch der Abend wirft ein Tuch aufs Land
und auf die Wege hinterm Waldesrand
Und der Wald er steht so schwarz und leer
Weh mir, oh weh
Und die Vögel singen nicht mehr