Tuesday, March 24
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转轴晨曦路
孤马冷静萧
餐风饮朝露
未觉晨已晓
Sunday, January 11
寂寞的人
1 comments真正寂寞的人， 不是从眼睛里看出来的， 是从灵魂中看出来的
真正寂寞的人，是可以在开怀大笑之后，马上恢复到冷漠表情和心灵的一种人，即使接触起来再亲切再好相处。
真正寂寞的人，是可以用一整天的时间，一句话也不说，一件事情也不做的站着坐着躺着，可能想着些什么，也可能什么都没想。
真正寂寞的人，是可以短暂摆脱寂寞的，狂欢到再次感觉寂寞的时候，更加觉得寂寞。
真正寂寞的人，其实不是因为一直都寂寞，而是因为曾经遇到了今生唯一可以懂得自己人，以为是一辈子却其实还是错过了，这才真的寂寞. 寂寞的人寂寞的生活 寂寞的人往往是擅长回忆的，一丝不苟的回忆所有的生活。特别是那些活生生的人，回忆那些人怎样的走进他的生活，然后又消逝在时光后的隧道中。在太阳落山的时候想起他们，在群星灿烂的时候想起他们，在睡梦中也会传来呼喊。
寂寞的人有很多寂寞的喜好。 寂寞的人喜欢一个人散步，一个人走的时候，也便逃离了这个世界——纵使四走人潮汹涌。在夜里，会仰视头顶上的路灯，或者凝视脚下的影子。永远也不会厌倦这个和身体永不割舍的伴侣。 寂寞的人习惯仰望天空。无论是阳光明媚的春日还是沉沉的秋天。看云淡风轻，望长空飞雁。想寻找过去，但又不人想起。害怕那些成为今天孤独的见证。因此，不知道是要学会遗忘，还是要继续记忆。
寂寞的人喜欢看风，吹风，听风。看风穿过城市的罅隙，看风穿过茂密的森林，看风穿过这伤感而优美，多情而孤独的青春。寂寞的人会留起长发。走在风里，凌乱的发丝扑打在脸上，使眼珠产生柔柔的痛。 寂寞的人会在风中点起一根可能会熄灭的香烟，平静的抽着。看烟圈在风中打滚的离去。
寂寞的人会爬上山顶，及其冷漠的眺望。只有耳边的风声让他感觉到自己的存在。 寂寞的人只会听歌，不会去唱。只是不停的听，一首又一首，一遍又一遍。直到泪眼朦胧。堕入深梦。 寂寞的人喜欢写一些寂寞的文字，因该算是写下寂寞，让它们寂寞的躺在记事本里。默默的尘封。 真正寂寞的人会反复听一首歌，看一场电影。 或发呆一天. 真正寂寞的人总会反复去同一个地方，看同样的景物。 想同一个问题.
真正寂寞的人永远不会让身边的人寂寞.
真正寂寞的人他们喜爱阳光只是更以来黑夜的保护。
真正寂寞的人你看不到他寂寞的样子.
真正寂寞的人没有让人看到的眼泪. 真正寂寞的人总是藏在过去，活在回忆.
真正寂寞的人总是不敢去看孩子的眼睛.
真正寂寞的人身上总是有很多的伤疤，一半自己划上的，一半别人留给的.
真正寂寞的人总是写很多无聊的文字，去抚慰所有的殇.
真正寂寞的人总是像猫一样.
真正寂寞的人总是喜欢毫无保留的站在雨里，不管雨多大
真正寂寞的人从前并不寂寞……真的……
Sunday, November 16
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Don't understand what my heart truly desires lately. Haven't got any friends which i can share this about. Rather pathetic, rather depressive, and rather foolishly believing there is still a better tomorrow for me.
Wish my Father in heaven would take away the curse that's on me. Wish that he can heals me from within, heal me back to my most pristine nature so that i can truly enjoy his blessing and togetherness.
I am far, so far from myself that sometimes i think i am rather disillusioned. A cold heart, so distance yet so near which doesn't reflect a correct state of mind. I am scorned, hated, reprimanded and criticised. Really don't know what i want for my life, wish i can just live my life as any other one around me. So happy, carefree and sometimes so carelessly flaunting their blissfulness which makes me feel like i would rather just leave this planet earth.
我的幸福呢?
Saturday, April 26
My blueberry nights
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Just watched a movie by Wong Kai Wai. A moody, beautifully done movie which portrays the ever many facets of human feelings on love and relationship. There is no right or wrong in love, but there are only choices to be made which the consequences are your own bliss or undoing.
Soul searching is important in that sense, love is like a circle which swirls on and on. There is no stopping of human feelings... Love is to be treasured and cherished.
Friday, April 11
Weekends syndrome
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These past few weekends i think i am having some kind of 'Weekends Syndrome'. While i was working, i always think of weekends. But weekends do finally come, i dreaded it. I think i am scared of the boredom that it brings when i really do have plenty of free time. It's such an irony in my life that sometimes i find this sadistically funny and cruel.
Imagine nothing to do, no purpose in life for Satuday and Sunday where everybody is having their fullest of enjoyment. Sometimes out of boredom i can even do things that is beyond my wildest imagination. I can suddenly become very friendly (which i later regret it) and talkative and suddenly so quiet and moody. These upheavals of moods is really toiling me, don't know how long i can keep this up. I might even ends up with multiple personalities during weekends.
Guess i would have to fill my time up with some activities. Perhaps to enrol in some courses or to take up again my cello. Sounds pathetic right? I don't know. Hope things would get better in a near future or i might not be able to take it anymore.
Imagine nothing to do, no purpose in life for Satuday and Sunday where everybody is having their fullest of enjoyment. Sometimes out of boredom i can even do things that is beyond my wildest imagination. I can suddenly become very friendly (which i later regret it) and talkative and suddenly so quiet and moody. These upheavals of moods is really toiling me, don't know how long i can keep this up. I might even ends up with multiple personalities during weekends.
Guess i would have to fill my time up with some activities. Perhaps to enrol in some courses or to take up again my cello. Sounds pathetic right? I don't know. Hope things would get better in a near future or i might not be able to take it anymore.
Saturday, April 5
驿站
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我踏着马路上的间隔线,朝着我想要的未来而奔跑,
奈何来去匆匆的人却无视我的存在.
车辆依旧串行, 路人也并不停驻.
心口的烒热让我喘不过气来,
但是时间的流逝已逐渐的让我回复冷漠,
我疲倦的身影要落向何处,
但愿转角的街头是我心灵的驿站.
Friday, April 4
The History of Love - Nicole Krauss
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Here is an excerpt which resonated with me: “Feelings are not as old as time” from The History of Love, Nicole Krauss. This books has particularly sitrred my feelings and I myself can't help to immerse into the characters.
Feelings are not as old as time. Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornness was felt for the first time, it stared a chain reaction, creating a felling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation and loneliness on the other. IT might have been a certain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy, a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Or maybe it was the body of a girl named Alma. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn’t born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time had passed, someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.
It’s also true that people felt things and because there was no word for them, they were unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it- just to name it- must have been like trying to catch something invisible.(The again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion.)
Having begun to feel, people’s desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It’s possible that this is how art was born. New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness: The eternal disappointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve, the fear of dying.
Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.
