I've been keeping a diary ever since I could remember, probably since I was in kindy? -with the first entry being about (surprise, surprise) how I bought that colourful hard cover diary and the chicken rice my family and I had had earlier.
Funnily, I distinctly remember me ardently writing on the floor and my dad sitting on the chair helping me with the spelling. The spelling were wrong anyhow.
Ever since then I'm on to my 4th edition, a recollection of my life.
The journey which took me from simple pleasures and innocence in the first book, to the joys and heartaches in the 2nd, heartbeats and letdowns in the 3rd, doubt and trepidation in the 4th.
Soul-searching in all.
Have I found it I wonder? Do I really know me? Am I unwittingly putting on a facade in this blindingly beautiful masquerade?
At times I feel like I need some rearrangement.
Messed-up and mixed up and god knows my tuning needs some tweaking, sometimes.
I'm searching, like the many people before me and like those after me.
I have my own demons to exorcise too as hard as that is to believe.
It's the people you meet &
how you treat,
them that last to touch,
the hearts though not much;
But enough to say,
I've done what I could,
With my life; so if ever today,
I were to be gone,
It wouldn't be wrong,
I'd smile & think
without even a blink,
Or a tear in my eye,
I've had a blast; au revoir, goodbye!