musings

there are just two things that makes us crazy: love and the lack of it.

inside the distance

yesterday my teacher mentioned the term “distance” and how it used in physiology. it is the distance from a certain neuron to another neuron, or the distance of an axon from the brain to the nerve endings and so on. i haven’t listened much so this is not what he said in verbatim. but the idea is there nonetheless, and i thought, it is all the same in other fields of sciences. this is how “distance” is defined. it is the extremeness of space between two objects, two poles, two neurons, two person, and whatsoever.

yesterday, i remember i wrote in my notebook my definition of “distance”, it is a condition i want to escape, it is  where i had always been. distance, for me, is that condition that defines the frailness of my being, the loathsome sensation that leaves me naked, fragile, unprotected and anxious.

distance had always been my sickness, that malady that gives me the deadly pangs of guilt and being always at the center of the scrutiny. my distance, my condition of believing but not believing truly, of questioning but doubting my questions. distance is a state of profound confusion.

20 years too late

few hours more and i’ll be another year older, and i don’t know but i feel, somewhat melancholic about it. not that i’m not excited. or am i? i suddenly feel like i missed something, or i should have done something while life was easier to live. i just thought, i lost a lot of chance before and there are things i wish i haven’t experienced, and they are all coming back to me like a guilty dagger looking for its owner.

one night to go and i’ll be turning 21. isn’t that amazing? (or boring?) and i remember my childhood, while my playmates are too eager to grow old and wear big clothes, i think i was the only who wished to have stayed a child forever. maybe that’s why i like Peter Pan very much. i remember to have watched it many times. i remember my sister to be so annoyed about it. and i don’t know, but every time i watch it… it’s like the first time, always.

i remember my teacher in cognitive psychology, and he told me about how childish i am, that all my fantasies should be gone once i turn 21 cause it’s the age where this specific part of your brain matures and i’ll eventually forget about my child-like fantasies. i remember how scared and nervous i was that i said, i wish that part of my brain won’t get old as my age; that even if i get old, it will still remain. i just smiled at him and made appear it was a joke while deep inside i tremor to that possibility. my teacher said: it is inevitable. i said: i’m scared, like a child.

one week, and as if everyday i am unconsciously preparing myself for something i don’t want to happen. while everyone was excited about it, here i am, trying to find in my heart that similar enthusiasm. i should be happy, or i think so. (i just smiled to a child and i felt awkward.)

i don’t know what to write from here onward but i don’t feel like finishing this one…