out of curiosity and poor self control, i had to peek at her private profile photos. there were ways, and there were means, until i came across some answers how to achieve the hacking task. a part of me feels bad i had to cheat and invade someone's privacy. but in the end, it was in my nature to study hacking. it was fun, discovering the holes of friendster. at the same time, it was nice to see her face again. sad, i just can't connect with her at this point in time.

i intend to make this my secret place, a place to run away to while the world swallows the rest of my existence. at least here, nobody hears me. nobody i know. i know, social sites or blogging sites are more suited for this purpose. i just don't care. at least here, i could stumble my time away at the same time get myself some form of education.
today, i'm feeling bored. i can't stop being so fixated on sheila. at least the emotional part is easier to bear with. but it's the mental anguish of being incapable of doing anything that's been wearing me out. the uncertainty of what lies beyond this time is a burdensome thought. i know i shouldn't be carrying that load. i'm too helpless and lost.

stumbling myself away into oblivion. wondering of what will become of me. and her.

and so, it is. i read the news and found out she topped the exam! i am so happy for her, good for her.

good for her. then it dawned upon me. i was just another nobody shooting at the moon. it does not matter if i were nobody, because that is just the way i would have wanted it to be. but to be shooting at a moon far out in space is like a dream. with the probability of success close to zero. so, do i give up?

so do i give up? these mixed feelings for someone i hardly know, for someone who i don't even think knows me, these mixed feelings of happiness and sadness...

these mixed feelings.. i don't know where it is heading.

so i think i'll just wait for this feeling to dissipate.

it's sad, i think i won't be seeing her for a while. or ever be hearing from her again. probably.

i am the puppet of my soul.
plans? i do not make plans. i follow plans. so i did not make plans.
soon i realized even if i did not make plans, i must always be prepared for anything.
being prepared is far different from making plans.
i have neglected myself for so long. i should have developed my potential.
for the sake of being prepared for anything to come.

it is a rainy day today, but that's ok, just the way i wanted it to be.

i am at work, but my mind is somewhere else. our scheduled patient is nowhere to be found. good. start stumbling! but the network is too slow. so i started blogging! blog my way through this dreary weather.

anonimity has its good points. i could create a whole new character of myself. the best and worst part of it is that nobody gives a damn. people, mind your own business, (unless your business is with me).

moving on, the full moon last night was so right to be there at that time. it reminded me of my dreams. so distant, so far... and probably an empty and dusty place. but, as i always think of it, it is so round, so bright, and so enchanting. if dreams and thoughts were like post-it notes, the sky would be filled with them. probably everyone at some point in their life saw the moon and whispered a sigh or wish. dreaming of a girl. hoping she dreams of you as well. i wonder how many dreams do really come true. imagine a soldier during world war 2, lying on the snow, dying. while the thunders of war never ceased in all horizons. the only relief from the pain was the solace moon above. it reminded him of a face to love.

but that's just a possibility. in reality, i am someone who is constantly reminded of a beautiful face. how can i forget. that moment when i saw her turn around, that moment she looked me straight in the eye, that moment she greeted me with a simple "hi", that moment she smiled at me. that moment, she cut her hair short, she looked so free. and it is bothersome to think those moments really were meant for me. was i thinking too much of things that were not really there, feeling things that were really not quite true. it does not matter.

i never said goodbye. and the day i will see you again is getting near.

dear sheila. i miss you. when will you be back? you are the brightest memory i have. how can i forget. please be back soon. how i long to see you again.

seldom do i quote. until i quote a seldomly seen quotable quote.

"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting."
-e. e. cummings

what struck me the most was... who on earth was e.e. cummings? so i did my wikipedia research. tada.

i was stumbling to kill time, and this time i stumbled upon the works of e. e. cummings. interesting to a certain point. rather than lead you to the link where i got the stuff, i think it more cool to just post it all here. and the credit goes to e. e. cummings.

"the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for most people - it's no use trying to pretend that most people and ourselves are alike. most people have less in common with ourselves than the squareroot of minusone. you and i are human beings; most people are snobs. take the matter of being born. what does being born mean to most people? catastrophe unmitigated. social revolution. the cultured aristocrat yanked out of his hyperexclusively ultravoluptuous super-palazzo, and dumped into an incredibly vulgar detention camp swarming with every conceivable species of undesireable organism. most people fancy a guaranteed birthproof safetysuit of nondestructible selflessness. if most people were to be born twice they'd improbably call it dying. you and i are not snobs. we can never be born enough. we are human beings; for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery, the mystery of growing; the mystery which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves. you and i wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming. life, for eternal us, is now; and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything, catastrophic included. life,for most people, simply isn't. take the so called standard of living. what do most people mean by "living"? they don't mean living. they mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science, in its finite but unbounded wisdom, has succeeded in selling their wives. if science could fail, a mountain's a mammal. most people's wives can spot a genuine delusion of embryonic omnipotence immediately and will accept no subsitutes. luckily for us, a mountain is a mammal.... "
-e. e. cummings

up to this point i could vaguely see what he meant. and i do not have the will to try to understand what he really meant. i understand his situation. not to convey an idea, but to write. just write something. a so called art.

yes i was also referring to myself.

back to the doldrums, back to the slump.
the world stopped moving again. and i'm being left behind again.
i could only resort to writing. and no one will hear a single word i say.
at least i'm able to write.

still nothing.

i hope the winds would start blowing soon, so i can sail away from this time.

madness. this is madness!