Behind A New Generation

"Kids these days...."
"Uh... You're only a year older. You didn't even try to get the correct fake mustache...."

I really miss the times that have passed me by.

You know, it is pretty much universal that as kids, we would wanna grow up as soon as possible, but we will reach a stage where we would wanna go back to those times.

The fact that I constantly have these thoughts just prove that I have pretty much a really happy life up till this point. And truly, I am really grateful. In fact, if I start thinking about it, I might actually start believing in a virtuous Guy Upstairs. Or at least, a guardian angel.

But this is not a post about me.

This is a post for the ones that will come after me.

At the dinner for freshers organised last night, I did not see a bunch of freshers who knows nothing. Heck, there wasn't even a single Jon in bunch. (At least, none that I could remember.)

Instead, I see a group of enthusiastic people, who is willing to face the challenge of living in a foreign country, and brimming with excitement for the coming years.

I was like that as well.

I still want to be like that as well.

But I just can't find that same amount of energy, even though only one year has passed. I don't know why, and I feel bad about it.

I am jealous, it could be.

But this is not a post about me.

They will shape this society of ours more than we could ever imagine. They learn faster, bond faster, and sarcasm faster than our year's best of the best.

What will happen next? I don't know.

There will be drama.
There will be love.
There will be comedy.
There will be hate.
There will be happiness.
There will be tiredness.
There will be togetherness.

I should know. It happened to us, and it will happen to them.

So, I wish them all the best.

Cya! We'll be seeing each other a lot more, it would seem.

MSOC rocks, don't knock.

Behind Understand

I think I understand,
But I still don't understand,
So I'll just stand under
The Understand stand.

Cya.

Behind Transcendence, Pt1 (StoryTime)

A game. Innocent.

A ball. Astray.

Two feet. Eager.

A screech. Deafening.

Two lights. Bright.

A push. Selfless.

A death. Remembered.

*  *  *

Charlie’s tie was put on too tight that day, something his father tended to do when the occasion arises. But at this moment, Charlie did not feel like reaching up and loosening it. In fact, he doubted that he was feeling any emotion at all. He was numb from the accident 5 days ago, which left him with a bruise down his left shin and scratches all around both his arms.

It also left his neighbour, a girl of about 14, dead.

At the moment, Charlie was about 10: just old enough to realise that she was pretty, with large purple eyes, a small nose and waist-long hair. But the peculiar thing about her, and her mother’s side of the family, was that that hair was the colour of platinum: pure shiny grey without any hint of black, blonde or brown that you would’ve seen from someone who tried to dye their hair in that beautiful colour. And it looked natural on all of them.

Right now, at the girl’s funeral, an owner of that platinum hair was looking at him. Charlie recognised her as the girl’s mother. Filled with guilt on causing the girl’s death, Charlie wanted to look away, afraid to be the blame in her eyes, afraid to say: “I don’t even know her, I didn’t want to cause her death, I’m sorry….” And all the things that he should’ve said.

But he could not. No matter how hard he tried, he could not break eye contact with her. And in that span of a few seconds, Charlie realised, with a jolt, that he could not find any sign of blame in those purple eyes. Instead, in addition to the sadness of losing a child, he saw the hints of another look, one that he could not recognise.

Years later, Charlie would recognise that as the look of a mother giving her daughter’s hand in marriage to a man.

The wake ended at 4 in the evening. With heavy hearts and heavier souls, the procession left the house, and headed west, where the sun set. Charlie did not follow; he ran straight back in the opposite direction, due east. Behind him, his parents were trying to keep up for a while, then gave up, only able to guess the sorrow of his heart.

High up upon a single cloud hovering above the wake, the spirit of a silver-haired girl looked between her body, heading to where the sun set, and the boy, to where the moon was just rising.

As if reaching a decision, she leaped of her cloud and floated eastwards.

Behind Moving In, Up, and Across

So apparently I have a place to myself now.

No just kidding. I'm renting.

But it comes with a lot of responsibilities that are usually not present when living with your parents/living in college halls.

Gas. Electric. Water. Broadband. Furniture. Cleaning. And a council tax you have to submit and exemption form for or get a court summons for it.

I mean, I know I have to pay for what I use eventually, but now?!

My dad was right. There's no such thing as a free lunch. And even if there were free lunches, I will probably gorge myself until I get fat with excess carbohydrates, which I would have to run halfway across the world to get rid off.

But personally, I wouldn't mind.

Sigh. I guess I just like running, both to get to fitness and away from my duties as a member of the society. And also to forget.

I still need my running shoes though.

( Not like Pokemon. I can run without running shoes, but personally, I wouldn't want to. )

The point is though, I can run, walk or crawl 500 miles, but I will fall down, and then, THEN, responsibilities will come knocking at my door.

That won't be fun.

So might as well turn around and stare responsibility in the face (if it has one) and show him/her/it that I will rise to the challenge.

Besides, there are juniors watching. And she is watching. I can't run. I can't lose. Not now.

Cya.