Like any other life forms, mine is susceptible to changes as well. This last stretch of my secondary school life provided me the path to healing. Not that I have someone new at heart but I just feel better by the day and find that this sort of stuff is of not much importance. Its value I should say is like a lump of shit. In years to come, I'm quite sure it won't matter at all. It better be.

I shouldn't have done what I did. That if I knew about the outcome. I should have trusted that gut instinct. But of course I won't say its the wrong move either. Because, had I not take this route, I won't know what the outcome is itself. Under any cicumstances, there were a lot of lessons that I've picked up and hopefully, won't come across the same ones again. Not that it's going to be hurtful but...it's just plain BORING to repeat the cycle. I want to have something new.

Went through a particular poem today, and I really take it as a masterpiece. I shall just extract the part which means the most to me. The poem is Twice Shy by Seamus Heaney.

"Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate."

I mentioned something about changes earlier on. This is the jist of it. I don't think I can sense the normal feeling of love again. You know, that feeling you get when you are far apart form that person and you misses him/her so bloody much. Yeah, somehow love relationships are put straight down way below my priority's list. It's like I don't give a rat's ass about it anymore. Its not that I want myself to feel this way needless to say I've force myself to. I don't really know how to express this but the effect of love has really decreased drastically since...whatever day that is. It's somewhat like the love industry in me has close shop. I can't feel that touchy touchy feeling anymore and I don't think I'm going to be as receptive as before. Frankly speaking, I don't know whether its good or bad. So, I shall let it be. Mabe I'm turning gay. hey, just kidding. Seriously kidding. To tell the truth I hate them to the core. No chance in hell am I going to be one and accept one. Its a mocking to mother nature.

And 1 more thing that I purely hate as well. That is, people who judge others by their looks. People who make bad sweeping statements based on their looks and ostracized them there and then. I hate those guys(inclusive of females).

One more poem to share before I go for my 'O's. Courtesy of Mr Singh. Its entitled My Box by Gillian Clarke.

My box is made of golden oak,
my lover's gift to me.
He fitted hinges and a lock
of brass and a bright key.
He made it out of winter nights,
sanded and oiled and planed,
engraved inside the heavy lid
in brass, a golden tree.

In my box are twelve black books
where I have written down
how we sanded, oiled and planed,
planted a garden, built a wall,
seen jays and goldcrests, rare red kites,
found the wild heartsease, drilled a well,
harvested apples and words and days
and planted a golden tree.

On an open shelf I keep my box.
Its key is in the lock.
I leave it there for you to read,
or them, when we are dead,
how everything is slowly made,
how slowly things made me,
a tree, a lover, words, a box,
books and a golden tree.

Hope that I will have a golden tree too. :)

::: Love imprisonment: Completed :::