to You.

Now we are together sitting outside in the sunshine
But soon we’ll be apart and soon it’ll be night
Now things are fine the clouds are far away up in the sky
But soon I’ll be on a plane and soon you’ll feel the cold rain

You promised to stay in touch when we’re apart
You promised before I left that you’ll always love me
Time goes by
and people cry
and everything goes too fast

Now we are enjoying each moment with one another
But soon I’ll be miles away and soon the phone will be our only way
Now I’m in your arms feeling love and warmth
But soon, I’ll be alone and soon your voice will change tone

You promised we’ll never break up over the telephone
You said our love was stronger than miles apart
Time goes by
and people lie
and everything goes too fast

Let’s not fool ourselves in vain
this far away trip will give us pain
We’ll have to be so strong
to keep our love from going wrong
Distance will make us cold
even put our love on hold

You promised not to loose faith in our love when I’m away
You promised so much to me
but now you’ve left me

We go by
and then you lie
and all these time we wasted

Time goes by
and people lie
and everything goes too fast

Time went by
and then we died
and everything went too fast

...

They say you can tell a tourist from a local by the way they see the city; one sees everything and one makes it a point to see as little as possible.

I suppose it's true that all things will become pedestrian with time, but I find the fact that I myself am so easily desensitized to the splendor or living quite unsettling. I remember just a few years ago how each step I took was recorded in journal entries and on scraps of paper as things to be treasured and never, ever forgotten.

Is it the loss of childhood or the loss of hope? (Or perhaps the two coincide?) The things that make each day so special, unique, vibrant, and worth cherishing trickle away like the way even the greatest of paintings manage to lose their luster over the years.

Once you've lost it, though, can you ever get it back?

Must we first lose to gain?

Do you ever feel like all you want to do is go home, but (at the risk of sounding obnoxiously melodramatic) you don't know where home is nor where you happened to misplace it?

Maybe home isn't so much a place as it is an idea, a fabrication of nostalgia and ideals, one that can all too easily elude us.

I don't feel fit to be living this life. Somehow, at some point, I got put into the wrong pair of shoes which have run me into a world that I can't quite find my own reflection in.

Sometimes I'd like to just commit myself, as if literally separating myself and the supposed "real world" behind locked doors (swallow the key) might make things easier, might finally free me of this.

But even within the world of the living dead, there surely still exists turmoil and distress in slightly modified form.

I used to be a planner.

When I was younger I would decide how my future would be, like how many kids would I have, what I would wear at my wedding, what sort of job I would have, where I would live... the list went on.

I found I could just whittle away the hours by living in my own head.

Looking back at these times, I feel a pain in my heart as though someone is tugging at it. This, you see, was bliss. I was ignorant that life isn't as easy as that. You don't know what will get in the way of your ideal life.

One thing that hasn't changed, I suppose, is living in my head and escaping the real world. Except, these days instead of planning my life in 5, 10, 15 years, I plan for next hour ahead. What do I need to do next?

I watch from the window of my room as people busy themselves with living, pretending that they are happy, but when really, I can't help but think they're all just planning their perfect lives ahead of them.

They know they're not real, but they have to imagine another life in order to get through this one.

Even when old people are rocking gently in their chairs on a sunny afternoon, they are dreaming of another life that they have lived in some other place.

Being happy is a myth...

because inside we will always yearn for something more or better, but lasting happiness will never become real when all our wants transcend this world.

To the Triple Jewel I return and rely.

...

All we know is nothing more than a memory.

Each action, each thought, each spoken word is sectioned in your brain, kept for recollection at a later date.
The only part of life that is not a memory is the present, which lasts for just an instant, a flash, a blink of an eye.

Today felt ineffably strange relative to most other days, but what struck me as stranger still was later on, when I thought about what had passed over the last 24 hours.

I remembered the conversations I had had, the laughs I had heard, the sound of my feet treading on the concrete pavements; it felt like nothing more than a dream I could have dreamt whilst lying calm and still in my own bed.

Of course, the obvious distinction between dreams and reality is whether they have actually happened (whatever that means), but since both are only taken into consideration when they are in the past, it is inevitable that at one point or anther they become mixed up, and therefore, interchangeable.

And when our time comes to leave our physical entities, when we exhale that final breath, why will the difference even matter?

Everything we come across, in the dream world or the real world, will be a memory.

No matter how serious or real things can seem in the present, at this very moment, they will sooner or later be living amongst your dreams...
becoming the same - just a fragile substance of something that once was.