Speechless

Anyway, hi void or this blog or maybe hi to myself. I kind of want to pick up writing again just for fun. Maybe do little scenes here and there. A friend and I have been writing fics in DM's and I kind of want to properly put them to paper. I'll try it a bit here.

Wei WuXian pressed his temples, “Forget it. It’s all in the past now. Let’s not mention it again.”

It wasn’t something he liked to reminisce about. He didn’t want to be reminded again and again of what it felt like when his core was cut out or what price he had to pay. If this were exposed in the past, he’d most likely laugh and comfort Jiang Cheng, ‘It’s not that big of a deal anyways. Look at me all these years. Without the core, I still managed to come through, didn’t I? Beating everyone I wanted to beat, killing everyone I wanted to kill.’ But now, he indeed didn’t have the strength left to put up such a confident, nonchalant pretense.

From the bottom of his heart, he knew he wasn’t so indifferent about it after all.

Was it really that easy to move on from such a thing?

Of course not.

In truth, when Wei WuXian was seventeen or eighteen, his pride wasn’t much lower than Jiang Cheng’s. He once had strong spiritual powers, more talented than others. No matter how much he fooled around, staying up all night pulling pranks on others, he was still far ahead of his classmates who worked so hard.

But every time he tossed and turned as he lay awake at night, knowing he’d never reach the stars using proper means, knowing he’d never wield his sword with the excellence that was supposed to bring astonishment to so many eyes, he wondered if Jiang FengMiang hadn’t take him back to Lotus Pier, perhaps he wouldn’t cross paths with cultivation his whole life. Then he would have never known that such a magnificent path existed in this world. He’d only be a head beggar who roamed the streets, fleeing at first sight of a dog, or maybe looking after cows and stealing other people’s crops in the countryside, playing his flute to pass his time. He wouldn’t have known to cultivate, and he definitely wouldn’t have had the chance to form a core. With such thoughts, he’d felt much better.

Take it as repayment, or take it as redemption. Take it as he’d never received the golden core to begin with.

After explaining things to himself like this again and again, it was as though he was truly as confident and as nonchalant as he made it seem like on the surface, and along the way he could even praise himself for such a state of mind, whether he was lying or not.

But that was in his past life.

When did writing become a burden. When did it become something that had to be just perfect.

I am tired today. I am tired most days. I do not know where I'm going. I am afraid I'm not happy with my profession and that it was not meant for me.

I keep avoiding my mother. I do not know what to tell her.

Fandom spaces make me feel unwelcome and unhappy.

what even is this blog anymore

i dont even write these days

and i think that's really sad.

maybe i'll try to pick it up again.

college is difficult. im trying to stay positive and keep myself afloat though. just two more years and i'll be done. at the same time, im also scared of becoming a proper adult with her own job and all that.

i just try to tell myself that im scared and nervous because i care and i want to do well for myself, for my family, for the people who are going to need my help.

i hope i get through this semester alright. i just want to pass. i dont want to get delayed. please. im doing my best, the best i can give while trying to remain sane.

and push it down

swallow and taste

the bitterness in your mouth

wash it away

let it drown

till the acid rises

love is letting someone go,

setting them free

it is helping them grow,

and letting them breathe

it is holding them loose,

praying they'll stay

it is letting them choose

while hoping they'll say,

Melody and lyrics by yours truly and arrangement by some of my guy friends (we’re called the M&M’s because we all have names starting with M. My sister came up with it haha.)

It’s not the best recording (I was laughing a lot and I had a cold), but it’s the only one I have. I hope we get to do a better recording of this in the future.

     A five-year-old kid watches superheroes fly in the sky and beat up villains; this is his model of courage. The same kid, now 10 years old, learns about men and women dying in battle and fighting for the nation’s freedom; from superhumans, his vision of courage shifts to these national heroes. The child turns into a teenager and watches his father work 18-hour shifts and a side job just to make ends meet. He thinks to himself that maybe, his father, too, is a symbol of courage.

     Who’s to say that he had the meaning of courage wrong the first time? Or the second? Or the third? Bravery exists in a hundred ways, each honorable in its own. And sometimes, it can be found in the simplest things.

     Shy people tend to do everything to not be put in the spotlight. They stand in corners during a party, sit silently in class, do most things alone. So when shy person makes an effort to get to know someone and befriends him, know that it took every ounce of courage in his body. And this, in itself, is a picture of bravery.

     When we get in a fight, most of the time, we wait for the other person to apologize, sometimes, even when we know we were on the wrong side. We see apologizing as a sign of weakness. But it is the opposite. It is a form of bravery because it shows that we are unafraid of making mistakes and of owning up to them.

     A woman is diagnosed with a life-threatening disease. Instead of keeping to herself and succumbing to depression, she lives life as if every second were her last. She gives and loves with all she has, determined to face death with a smile. She is a model of courage and strength to everyone.

    Some people live their lives seeking for a saving grace. Some sit around while others go to great lengths to find that person who is brave enough to save the world. But don’t they see? There is no need to search because bravery is around us and within us; in different forms, shapes, and sizes.

    Grades play a big part in a student’s life. It could sometimes make or break a student. It is a sort of measure of excellence in school. So I thought grades were the measure of a person, but I was wrong.

     When one is at the top of class, everyone looks up to him or her. But I have realized greatness does not always equal having the highest marks. A teacher once told me that it is not enough to have a brain; one must also have a heart. For without it, the brain is useless. Grades only show scores of aptitude. They do not tell how they were attained. They do not always show how hard a student worked or how many nights were spent without sleep. They do not show the countless fights between group mates, the headaches, and all the sacrifices. Grades cannot cover every aspect of the person’s life. No one can put a score on the time you fell and stood up once again nor on the amount of pain you have endured, on the tears you have spilled, and the sweat you have poured. All of these things make us a person. And all of these things, grades cannot measure.

     We study not for grades, but for life, according to the facilitator in our retreat. Studying, for me, must involve actual learning and not just mere memorization and forgetting everything afterwards. Grades are important, yes, they are. But I will not let it define me, nor do I think it defines anyone else. So when we get a low mark in spite of everything, just remember that we are not our grades.

I close my eyes and take it all in. November is a friend I meet once a year. This time around I wonder if he returns you to me.

“Hold my hand, darling, never let me go,” I hum as I walk down the street. The crisp autumn wind sends chills down my spine.

I am taken back to a time when capes made us fly, when we were partners in crime trying to save a world we thought fit in our hands.

I lost you once, I cannot remember the reason. But I can recall the season. November was my enemy then; I blamed him for taking you from me.