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Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The Three Wise Monkeys


     Would it be naive of me if I wish I had not known so much? Would it be silly of me if I wish I could close my ears and pretend not to notice sometimes? Would it be alright if I lie here and forget this ever exist? If, if, if, and only ifs.
     Sometimes I feel as if we are living in a haven. Secluded in a warm embrace, protected by our little bubble where nothing can ever hurt us. It is a world where everything is beautiful and peaceful. A place where I can safely wake up and be ensured that it is another day to look forward to and the sun is shining on my head. The sense of serenity and happiness would be so strong the black cloud will not be able to dampen it. 
     But when I wash my face and rub my eyes, I see it is all a dream. My little perfect world packed up so nicely in ribbons and pretty wrappings are gone. It is just like any other day once I open the newspapers. There is no peace, there is only chaos and fights over petty issues.  It is a world filled with secrets and lies.
      He said, she said. I wasn't there to hear him, neither was I there to hear her. Who to believe? Who to trust? Where to go at the end of the day? I don't think I want to hear all these anymore. These vindictive remarks and backstabbing is tiring me up. Does all this really mean so much to you that you will lie and scheme your way through it? Scheme all you want. Lie all you want. By all means, do whatever you please. But do not drag me into it. Do not place me into your plans because I am not like that.
     I do not want to live my life strategising my every move like it's a chessboard. The worst that can happen when you have been checkmate is to start the game all over again and learn from your mistakes but there is no take two in life. My life is not a battle game. He said, she said. How many more lies to cover up your lies? How many more chances do I need to give until I finally realise it's enough?
     I believed and I still want to believe that there is good in everyone but each day is making the belief thaw away. As the pinnacle of ice starts melting away, the beauty is gone and all I can see is a layer of grime where slugs crawl away spreading a thick layer of mucus. How long will this belief last? Will I eventually change into a person that I won't be able to recognise tomorrow because I do not want that to happen. I want to hold on to my childish belief. If things turn ugly my only consolation is that no matter how ugly the world is there is still a tiny glimmer of beauty and truth amidst all these chaos.

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