No matter what advice you give, no matter how intelligent or profound your statements, humans are individuals with individual consciousnesses and will therefore always refer to their own judgement when it comes down to it. Which is your right, you should live life the way you want, there’s no rules or a template to follow, you make your own way.

But you have to remember, no matter how solitary we think we are, there are people that care and that’s what’s beautiful. Because we don’t only live for ourselves, we live for others too, people who need us. Interconnected in a beautiful web of coincidence and fate.

We could die tomorrow or in eighty years, that uncertainty is what makes it all beautiful. The spontaneity is what makes life an adventure and exciting, it’s what makes trying to live every day to the fullest worth it. 

Even though I’m not religious, when I do pray once in a while I pray for everyone in the world to find strength when they feel like they have none.

Because finding strength amongst all the hurt can be the hardest thing to do.

Am I correct to be under the assumption that (a majority of) girls, like bad boy types, but especially because they like to feel the exception that they only show their good side to you? Or perhaps it’s because they like to fix them?

Either way, kind of sucks. I think I’m the complete opposite. I make great first impressions, polite and I like being nice to people I meet. But then people get to know me, even though I’m always well mannered, my bad traits far outweigh them. When they realise how unaffectionate, independant, not so much fun and serious I can be, it always ends there anyway but I don’t even mind, if you can’t handle my sassy,　 ‘hahahahaha’ (echoed my laughter in my empty room lol)…

I might slip into obscurity and lone spells of seclusion, but that doesn’t ever weaken the weight of importance of the bonds I have. But that’s my bad trait again, my stubbornness, believing that just because I’m fine with disappearing and reappearing, that everyone is too. Which is a sore and gravely wrong misunderstanding on my part.

However, I’ve been really blessed to have the most understanding and patient people in my life. I think this topic is the most recurring theme in my whole blog. About how grateful I am. Who would I be without the people around me? I’d be pretty alone. Who else could put up with my difficult nature? Thank you.　

I’m so glad I started this blog, because it’s such a good record of my last 3 years. I’ve always tried to be have an honest blog, for my own personal use as well as networking.

When I was looking through, so many memories, of the times I’ve had, the thoughts I had, things I shared, the things I did, they all came rushing back as I glanced at the page all dated and it made me happy. No matter what happens to me, I had some sort of evidence that my life was full and it left a mark.

Even if I were to disappear and grow old, my youth is succinctly captured in short glimpses here and there.

For all the knowledge I’ve accumulated so far, the vast information gathered through living, in futility, I can’t help but feel so so stupid. So clueless when it comes to so many things.

Then I lay there feeling the onslaught of terrible helplessness, praying and waiting for an answer to something, anything. Laying there wondering if others feel it too. I’d rather they didn’t because sometimes it really hurts you in sad ways. Then it’s morning already, again…

At the end of the day, I just don’t know how to say the words to you. Everytime I try to come to a decision or conclusion about what this feeling is and what I want to say to you, all the thoughts, all the words, they just sink and kind of disappear in my throat, only to return again later, most likely a sleepless night.

But I began to realise it was different, the situation and your existence is different. You are an exception to a lot of things. There’s something you have that makes me, totally detached from the usual me. I’ve never been so indecisive before, but I’ve never been on the other end like this before either. So I hope in comfort that it’s because it’s not meant to be easy at all.

It’s terribly hard to describe something when it’s so transparent and hardly palpable. 

I can’t even write the words down now. 

Sometimes I think maybe it’s because I’m scared. Scared of having to wear my heart on my sleeve and risk myself, proverbially, for once.

And every fiber of my being and thought tells me not to. I’ve always scoffed at the idea and pities of heartbreak, never broken a heart or had mine broken. But now it seems more real and ominous.

But for many months now, that’s all I’ve contemplating about.

Just can’t seem to let go.

Well infallibly correct statement of the millenia there. I apologise beforehand if you are about to read this, it’s not really anything though, more or less something for myself just something a bit personal which my blog hasn’t seen much of.

It’s been a while since I wrote something and lay the pieces of thoughts down in my own lackadaisical way, kind reminiscent of building mosaics which I did today. I thought I’d try to document some of the changes and the subtle differences in wavelengths of musings these past few weeks of absence.

I think somehow, I’m grew up a little again, or under the illusion I have. What I realised was, I think I’m finally over sulking and brooding about the unfairness of everything, spending days in over thought. There was a period when I started feeling a little lost, like I was drifting through.

But somewhere in between, I started feeling more positive and it kind of grew, I wish I knew where it came from or when exactly it happened, but I’m grateful. Now, I feel lively, have motivation and have made a few changes that have left me happier than the ones I made before. I also learnt to be a bit selfish for myself soemtimes to be happier as a soul and for once forgone the sacrifcial greater good mentality.

I don’t care about the constrictions and restrictions placed on me by society and it’s negative allies anymore, I feel more convicted and sure of myself than before on my opinions and identity. It left me  with a feeling of warm confidence that I think I’ve been lacking for some time. 

Also I have come to a decision where I’m trying to live in the present more often and not in my future or past constantly. I’ve been so worried about my the decisions for my future and my past regrets that I felt like I wasn’t living to my full capacity for a while. Like I was dragging along and pretending a lot. But I’ve finally realised letting go of those heavy worries releases such a burden and weight that makes life that much happier and lighter. However it is obviously wise to always keep a eye on your future and past, but to never let it control and direct you.

My final conclusive thoughts;

I’m not in love. But I very much like someone, I have done for a while without realising it. But I’m not hell bent on making them my partner and pursuing her endlessly, not at all. I feel really happy just knowing her and I like it how it is. How everything is between us. It’s really nice I think.

There’s no rush, because I’ve got a long time left to try win her over.  And if not, she gets a boyfriend, forgets me or she moves on etc. then I’ll be pretty happy to see her be happy, because she’s that type of special person. I’m always grateful because I think I became a better person because of her.

I’m indebted to you. And I will never forget you.

Saturday 4th June 1886.

Like every day I stood teetered on the edge of the town hall, next to the bell donated by the Marquis Oondore that tolled 3 pm like a stirring invitation from the beyond. Beckoning the chimes of the death knoll. Thrice it struck yet I held my breath. Never taking that final step and returning for another day, only to come back again to it tomorrow.

It was on a blisteringly sunny day in the 15th arrondissement, in that shabby shack patisserie that I had been filled by holy intervention of grace that led me to the situation I now was in.

                                                                ~    

The morning had been like any other of the past 36 years of monotony. Paris had withstood the ravages of many internal battles and its walls spoke of may sad stories. Cowered away in a small corner I stood opening my bakery for the umpteenth time. No one came, no one went. I tussled the croissants further into the window, the buttered scent wafted out into the cobbled streets only filling the stomachs of rats and stray cats and passer bys who tilted their head in sorry acknowledgement. Who would buy a lousy amateur baker’s spoils I mused with hesitation. I had dreams but when my father had passed away leaving me this, so had they.

“Excuse me monsieur, is your patisserie open?”

I broke from my reverie, startled with a light sheen of sweat and mustering the brightest smile I could into a lack luster grimace I invited the fair lady into the one table bakery.

“It is a most lovely secret place you have here monsieur, rather befitting of the name non?”

Yes, rather. She took the butter rolls and crossed bread into her dainty basket smiling gracefully, curved eyes gleaming with life and curiosity.

“I would like to visit again monsieur, the place smells heavenly. Paris has charm. Nothing like Marsielle.” 

I nodded dumbly and took in her regal dress, the brooch on her bosom that marked her as nobility. My first customer, some daughter of noble lineage, heiress to a duchess most probably. Buying my bread and marveling at my humble displays. At that moment I felt fulfilled, like this was what I had been waiting for. Was it? Unsure but I felt for the first time brimming with hope and life.

I ripped my apron off, as she stood perplexed and confused. I bid my leave and thanked her.

“Monsieur. Monsieur. Where are you going? I have not yet paid. It is unbecoming of a duchess you know.”

I bowed immediately. 

“Forgive me duchess for my rudeness. But I thank you, you may take anything you wish and leave.”

She looked confused but she smiled back and said. 

“Please call me Eríc, I am nobility only by blood in these hidden streets.”

Again I felt the rush of feeling I hadn’t felt in any dreams.

“Thank you Lady Eríc, Duchess of Marsielle, you have saved my life.”

For alas she had and now I believed it, beyond all belief. And with courage and a holy conviction, I ran, leaving behind her cries of monsieur, I ran to that familiar town hall to the 32nd floor, eyeing the bell. It had not yet tolled but I was ready. I ran with all might towards that familiar edge and never looked back.

                                                                   ~

As I saw my body freefall towards the ground my eyes watered with some new feeling. As my soul ascended in the fair arms of Gabrielle, I saw that my body never reached the ground. It vanished like dust, mixing into the buttery scents of Paris. Stirring the stray cats and tilting the heads of passing people in sorry acknowledgement.

Before I felt the warmth start to over ride me, I heard Gabrielle gently speak, resonating through and off my soul;

“You were never meant for this world Lorens, it is so very brave of you. Peter will welcome a kind heart, your untarnished soul will find a place amongst the light.”

All I had needed was a smile, saved by the Duchess of Marsielle, it was befitting I forayed in my conscious. 

As I cried and left the Earth.

Dear Fräulein,

            It is with great trepidation and heavy heart that I am forced to write this. By the time your eyes will lay upon to read this, I will be wistfully lying under the browning leaves of the Yargdsil. I will be purged and cleansed by the black waters of the Styx and be a millenia and five worlds apart, torn asunder in some forgotten pocket of forgotten space. And you will ne’er hear or catch a breeze of my breath ever for as long as you shall live.  

From the beginning, the coexistance of our beings has been a crime and a grim utterance on the flow of nature and the red strings of fate woven by the Wyrds. The heath on which I left you lying will forever be blackened by our sad final parting. And will bloom and spring with blossoms as the sun flutters your eyelids open with the light’s first touch with no memory.

If I had but one wish it would be to break you from this withering chain and painful cycle. I would wish to be never born at all so I would have never meddled and endangered your destiny. Then you’d be free. I’d wish to be wiped from memory and to rest in the nape of Osiris hidden from truth. Because I believe then you would be happy, that you would feel joy. Unburdened by the lachrymose heaviness of loss and to have a brimming full life with great expectations.

It is with great regret I write this. Tonight I will leave you and erase every part of anything and everything that was, that is and that could have been. 

And you will not know of it. Ever.

But you will be happy. And that is what matters. Your value to me out weighs and overshadows my own value and anything else. So I must, because I adore you with unparalleled combinations of every single impossibility and I am giving you something no one could ever give you. The greatest gift.

And no one will ever know.

People have forever defined the cleverness of a person by the amount of accumulated knowledge at disposal by the said person. The amount of impressive information in the repetoire of their fantastic memory or calculating ability. These come down to, a lot of the time, unfortunately to predetermined factors like genetics.

In modern times, we seem to have built this segregation of smartness in people, defining it, ‘book smarts’ and ‘street smarts’. Essentially, they are saying cleverness comes in form of learning factual knowledge and retaining information. But also in the form of common sense, knowing how to live and capability in everyday judgmental ability.

All very true and valid points.

However, I think real cleverness should be defined and judged by a persons desire and hunger to learn, because that’s what drives a person to great heights. That curious nature of an intellectually hunger driven person is what really eventually makes a true clever person.

Contrary to popular belief, curiosity didn’t really kill the cat, he had nine lives and learnt after the first few. No, curiosity just made the cat cleverer…

I think I have a different perception and appreciation of beauty in comparison to the norm and usual conventional parameters of beautiful people. No, not in the usual cliche way of ‘Oh, I see people’s personality as more beautiful…” or ‘I like the shy person, the one you don’t notice, the enticing wallflower, beauty is the unnoticed things in life…’

These over used phrases are sometimes sincere and I do not disregard them. Yes, I do acknowledge that the shy wallflower can be beautiful and yes that sometimes someone’s personality literally shines through and that it is beautiful. But the key word is sometimes.

I find the beauty in the hidden things in people. I’ve always been attracted to girls who  just seem like they’re so good at being themselves that something seems off. It makes me wonder, what is this person really like underneath everything? They’re so fascinating and so alluringly clever, the mystery and the reserved nature of some humans, I guess if I like that I could call that beauty too. So beauty is seeing things beyond just looks?

Now, I won’t lie and say that looks don’t matter, but not in the same way as skin deep values of shallow criteria. But rather it’s about the character of her, the way everything about her is fit together. It’s really beautiful when a girl exudes her personality and her self-being into the way she looks and presents herself. That’s what makes someone unique, not by what they like and what they do.  

Complexity in people attracts me, the secret is that complicated people never reveal it, but you can kind of notice it. It’s like the more you get to know them, the more they unravel. But then that’s where the beauty is, girls like that, they’ll unravel forever and it’s always an adventure, when it comes to loving them, it is effectively a perpetual chase. What could be possibly more exciting…

In the end, my reflection turned out to be of what I like and how I see beauty in others. At the end of the day, beauty is all subjective, what is beautiful to one person is never the same for everyone. Which is comforting and sad at the same time. It could mean, perhaps that no one is beautiful at all and it is just the way we perceive things. And that beauty is a result of the sums of all our likes and experiences of what we think is nice…

But, it also means, if you don’t fit into one category definition of beauty set by others, it is at your own wish and ease to find another to be be appreciated and feel beautiful.

But even more so, it’s actually rather fitting and beautiful that in fact, you are at your own leisure, to forever define beauty as you see fit.

It just shows though, the age does not define beauty of a living thing. In fact age presents itself in a living object quite aesthetically, like a sum of it’s time span. Like a snapshot of all it’s experiences, carved and cemented into it’s features.

There’s that beauty in life. And people appraise it yet fear and see death as dark and malign, something painful and bitter.

Even if the reincarnation cycle does not exist, there is still the complete convergence of beauty in both life and death, as a cycle, that without one there is no other.

Death is the final act of life. Life is the anti-thesis of death.

One is an end to the other’s beginning, they’re not separate as people think, in fact they’re both a part of each other. 

Whenever I see an animal in the house or actually more specifically insects. If it’s a ladybird, butterfly, moth, wasp, spider etc. No matter what it really is, I always try to catch it and take it outside to let it go.

It’s almost like a game, sometimes the flies are hard to catch I think. I’ve only caught a few, most of the times they disappear and I can’t keep track. Things like spiders and wasps I just get a cloth and they don’t move much and I just wrap them up and shake them off outside.

My favourite to catch are the things like lady birds and butterflies because sometimes when you keep them still in your hand, even if you open your hand they don’t leave and just sit there. They probably like the warmth but sometimes I like to think maybe they just like it in my hand.

I don’t really know why I don’t kill them, I just don’t. Maybe because I feel too cruel just ending something’s existence just like that.

Plus I like the sight of when I take them outside and they all fly or disappear so quickly like that’s what they really wanted in the first place. A kind of freedom.

The sad fact is, not many people enjoy hanging around with serious people and talking to them a lot because it’s too heavy, kind of oppressing and generally not people’s idea of a fun time. A majority prefer funniness, extrovert natures and flamboyancy, because it’s lighter and easier to deal with and more enjoyable. 

Which leaves serious kind of people in a situation where they have to either change to fit in or be excluded. That’s the sad fact.