stargazer said
Thank you for accepting my invitation, and for following me back. I saw your blog. You write beautifully.

winter-daze said
Words tend to become beautiful whenever the person’s sad.

stargazer said
Are you sad?

winter-daze is writing…

winter-daze is offline.

Last message received at 23:45 on 2012/02/13

 I scoffed.

 Kim Sunggyu, screw you.

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winter-daze
2012-02-14 00:05
tagged as: #quote

"What is a poet? A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music…and men crowd about the poet and say to him: “Sing for us soon again”; that is as much to say: “May new sufferings torment your soul."

— Kierkegaard

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   Aside from music, I admit I am one of those people who have an affinity for words, strung together in a thread of eloquence. That’s why when I stumbled upon his blog that late winter, I couldn’t help but try to get a hold of him. He was, for me, a breath of fresh air in my suffocating world.

   I started blogging when I was fifteen, but I took it seriously by the time I turned seventeen. That was when we received the news about a classmate of ours overdosing herself with pills because her parents were getting divorced. Six months later, it was my parents’ turn to do exactly just that. When they broke the news to me I really couldn’t feel anything aside from the dull thudding of my heart against my rib cage, as if telling me, “You’re still breathing.”

   I wanted to ask them why they would separate after all this time; I wanted to ask them if I did something wrong. In all honesty, as we sat in the kitchen that evening, I couldn’t help but blame myself for what was happening. I kept on backtracking, thinking what could possibly make them turn to divorce in the end.

   Was I not a good son?

   Did I hurt them?

   Are the things I’m doing not enough?

   “I promise I’ll do better,” I blurted out. “I promise I’ll do better.”

   “No, Sunggyu,” my mother said. “It’s not your fault.”

   “Your mom and I both need this,” my father added.

   I blinked away the tears in my eyes before choking out, “I understand.”

   They asked me where I’d rather stay. I said I’d keep in touch with the both of them, but for the time being I would be with my mom. He was fine with it.

   He left the very next day.

   I suppose that was how everything started. Ever since then, I would type my frustrations out and share those thoughts to a bunch of faceless people in the Internet. Doing that was cheaper than getting a counselor, and I’d rather not find myself overdosing or resorting to anything similar to that. I was seventeen when my parents separated, and I was expected to understand the situation. That was what hurt me the most, though: I simply didn’t have the excuse to throw tantrums anymore. I understood that aside from glasses and bones, promises and hearts get broken, too. I understood that decisions change. I understood that almost everything is ephemeral—from material belongings to my mother’s flowers in her tiny garden. I understood all of these, and more.

   What I couldn’t get a good grasp of, however, was the stirrings of a person’s heart. The one hiding behind the alias ‘winter-daze’, on the other hand, made it look so easy.

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winter-daze
2012-03-02 19:02
tagged as: #journal entry

   I rode the train today, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the people in there. I figured each and every one of us has a story to tell, secrets to keep and scars to hide. They minded their own business, and soon I found myself thinking, “Would things get better if we were able to share our thoughts to a random stranger?”

   What if a person I’ve never even met before sat beside me and said, “I really had a very bad day today. Do you mind listening?”

   Most probably, I’d answer, “Not at all.”

   And that would start the venting and a series of sympathetic nodding. I imagine that person crying at one point, and I see myself pulling out a Kleenex from my bag and offering it to the stranger.

   But then again, I shouldn’t dwell on it too much. That’s exactly what I’m doing at this very moment, after all. And so far, I can feel that things are not getting better.

"Do to others as you would have them do to you."
- Luke 6:31