Writings of a Phobophobe.
Cash we seek;
Glory we chase,
But man, I’d tell you that’s just surface.
Even with all the success
But our hearts misplaced,
It’ll be real doom
No matter what we taste.
But that’s really just a peek
At the consequence we’ll face.
“We want happiness,”
And that’s all we say.
Look at us now —
Alive but dead.
What do we have now?
“Blindness to kindness,” I’d say.
Be not like a flower —
It expires when it withers.
Perhaps be like creepers —
Undying and unrelentless.
Or maybe be like water —
Adaptable and renews in cycles.
Do we know the existence of fear because of the existence of love?
Or do we know the existence of love because of the existence of fear?
How do we know the answer,
When we don’t know the definition of either?
A physical reaction to attempts of caging, cornering or pressurizing. An adverse effect to intrusion of privacy, as well as freedom of physical & mental personal spaces. I always gave a lot of freedom, because that is what I crave. And of course with freedom, people couldn’t understand how to build trust. Trust is about values, trust is also about morals. I believe in giving freedom as long as moral compasses and values of people are aligned. Therefore, these ring true to all my relationships, both romantic and platonic.
Sat in a cafe with a friend on a typical erratic weather Sunday. Got bitten by hungry mosquitoes and moved indoors. My mind was being picked at, people wondered about me, my life and my decisions. I loved and admired that curiosity and genuine interest, at the same time because intentions weren’t blatant, it was suffocating. It was suppose to be mindless and casual, but indirect intentions started suffocating my need for liberty. Was my idealistic self at work again? I wondered why people would be more interested in my activities yesterday or tomorrow, instead of who I am today and experience me being present then and there. That’s what I truly feel happy about, when someone makes himself (herself) available to be present for me. That’s how I feel I’m important.
It started to become noisier. People were shouting over background gibberish. The cafe was full. My head started spinning as neon lights started flashing. I felt f*cking claustrophobic.
I remember this sun. This is the happy sun. Feeling how it burns on my skin, it reminded me of happy times. Happy times when I was in Korea traveling on my own and taking photos with newly acquainted strangers. It was the same sun when I exited the fruit farm in Shanghai. It was the same sun when we set out with the yacht at Punggol Marina. The same sun I woke up to, to fall asleep on the bench of a neighborhood swimming pool. And all of these were times when I was present and indulging in that moment, of how beautiful the world, of how beautiful it is, to just live.
It’s sometimes annoys me that the online algorithm is optimize for people with a key theme or focus. What about those who have multiple interests, wished to be pushed various topics and explore new topics. Isn’t it limiting? Why are we forcing the world to adapt to and learn our behavior, instead of enabling ourselves to learn about us? What is it about us that makes us feel so entitled now?
killgwen 