I know the world is not perfect and as time goes by, my little bubble world of ideas become more and more narrow and contracted with real life doubts and impossibilities penetrating inside, eating away the fantasies and hopes of imperfect but beautiful and faithful relationships. I know that hoping for perfection is a foolishness that's bound to burn everything including myself but I never realized until now just how bogus almost everything else is. I never realized demanding for something real would be so hard and near impossible.
I do miss being a child. There is this absolute bliss in childhood. Such blessed innocence that is so poignant and contagious. To be always bathing in amazement at how things work and be excited at the mysteries of life. To love purely and be without malice or pretensions. To embrace hope in its truest sense and to know blind faith in sheer reliance.
I think that the times when we were kids were the times where we truly lived. But then, of course, we grew up and started dying. We became jaded and thought that cynicism is sophisticated. We started caging ourselves with inane standards that takes away the sense from living. We beat ourselves with senseless needs to become empty shells of mere existence.
I felt that I've lost a lot of important people in my life lately. Some have been separated from me by the vast gulf of death and some have chosen to be drifted away by change. Death brings along with it the sting of pain but separation by change, it leaves an altogether different kind of pain. Like a bitter taste in your mouth that you cannot get rid of. It's annoying and frustrating. With death, at least, there is a finality that we all know is irreversible and that which cannot be helped. Changes however leaves us this unsettling frustration that perhaps, just perhaps we could have done something but we weren't able to. That's why things changed. It's a lose end. And most of the times, when doubt settles and the spirit is weary, blame often drops by and points its shrewd and gnarled finger at me.
What have I done? Or perhaps, what have I not done?
Right now, I feel like time is sweeping past me in a frenzied whirlwind of change and I am lost, forgetting and forgotten.