Teared Silk

Hearing a bird chirped, I looked up. There it was. Black and white. I watched it for a while before it took off.

I recognised that bird. The same voice, the same colour, the same position. Amazed. Yes, I was amazed. Even after all these while, it's still there. But then, I couldn't be sure whether that was the exact bird. The one who was there while I was weeding. Or when I sat at the patio for ages, gazing upon the sky. It could easily be a similar one. I'm not a bird-watcher, I wouldn't know. All birds look the same to me.

Some things remain don't they? Untouched by the passing time. Yet some things don't. Changes occur without our agreement. Whether we like it or not, whether we're willing to or not. It's unavoidable. A whole lifetime process. Life changes and we're changing along with it. Adapting to different situations, protecting ourselves subconciously. Certain people look upon it as a kind of merit. Accept it as a part of you, and learn to deal with the 'new' you. Yet some people see it as a flaw. Reluctant to cope with it and move on.

Being back here, it reminds me of how things once were. It seems as if everything is untouched. Still the same as how I'd left them. Even though to the eyes, everything is different. I'm not talking about someone changing the cover of my pillow hug with the exact one and denied it when I pointed it out- as if I wouldn't notice it. It was like when my brother sprayed me with a strong scented perfume on purpose and the scent wouldn't go off no matter how hard I scrub. It happened, it has passed. But it's still there. The smell still lingers. And you suffocate, trying to hold your breathe as long as you could trying not to notice it.

There were moments when I asked myself what I was doing here. I should be out there, back to how I used to be. Tensed, all stressed up, finishing my assignments as how my friends are. Anything. What I shouldn't be doing, is being at home, taking a break, typing this post.
Mistake number one.
I have always been impatient. I have always rushed about. Maybe for this once I need to slow down. Not necessarily halt, but slow down. Finish that 2-hour movie instead of watching it in 30 minutes flat. Drink that one can of Coke instead of taking only a few sips before throwing it in the bin.

Up to this point, should I say I have regrets? Or would anyone believe me if I said I didn't have any? Because truthfully, I don't. Regretting means caring. Regretting means admitting my own mistakes. I do realised those. My mistakes. But they were mistakes which were meant to be. From your mistakes, you learn. I couldn't even say I wouldn't repeat them, because I know I will. I'm one foolish human *applaude* Somewhere in the future, I'll do them again. Everything will replay itself once more. In order to be forgiven, you must make sins. In order to realise, you must do something regretful enough. Only then they're worth it.

Standing at the brink of life. Stabbed by unexpected moments. I've been there. I don't have to dig deep into my past and look far to recall them. I don't need regrets and fears to ensure me of my journey. Just remembering those tells me, I don't want to experience it again. I don't want to go back there and feel those once more. In one step backward that's accidentally taken, I need to move 3 steps forward.
Funny.
I would never learned how random life is. I wouldn't be able to see how things aren't always as I want them to be. But hey, maybe it's not too bad aite?
Being strong in some ways yet fragile and vulnerable in others.