emulsified

I wonder if anyone stills read this blog? If someone does, I'm sure that person is a sentimental person.

Gradually, it holds truer and truer to me that i'm always looking to discover the psychology of humans. As i observe the way of how i myself handle stress, settlings things the typical way, I begin to think that these are traits parallel to other people too. As I looked at myself from a distant angle, with detached thought and emotions, I understood the people around me too. I understood people whom I have never met before as if they are my own kin. The ability to predict those humane reactions was all too straightforward, and sometimes the thought to pre-empt that which is easy to predict is so enticing that it lingers on treachery.

Oh yes, the desire to win is so challenging and thrilling. Like power. To win gives you triumph, and that is a sign of a tyrant. Rage.

Yet as time progresses, it becomes harder and harder to rediscover yourself and to rein your temper, your mischieviousness in. It becomes difficult to command your own body and one may not even realise it. Slowly, you realise that there's a stranger in you.

That stranger, imbued with a stoic nature and devoid of feelings appears to be strong all the time. Dependable. To execute things without hesitation, not afraid of failure, how remarkable. Slowly, you step aside and let the stranger take stride, allowing its majestic steps to invigorate you. And you bask in its glory, protected by its holy armor. Yes, like an invincible armor shrouded around you, hiding you at all times. But something feels wrong. Very wrong.

Because you aren't yourself anymore. You lose the side of you which your friends have counted on and came to trust, the irrational side of you rippling with weaknesses both physical and mental, that which they have come to understand and come to terms with. Someone whose will can be broken and then repaired is so tantalizingly lovable. Someone whom another can relate to is so regarded and treasured.

I often question myself.

Is being perfect a symbol of power? Or a symbol of the solitary? Or a symbol of sadness?

Is being not perfect good? Is it... irresistable?

As each of us strive towards perfection, such as that of scoring 100 points in an exam, surely we must question ourselves why do we do that? Does it serve a purpose? Yes I want to get into the Dean's good books, so says guy A. Yes I want to prove to myself I can do it, so says guy B. And lots of other reasons, all admirable and commendable. Yet often, if we break it down, maybe the real reason is, we just wanna do it. No reason. It's simply a want. Yea I want to achieve something. But ultimately, it's just a want. It may even bother on hypocrisy.

Inevitably, this post becomes dragged, repetitious and no longer serves a purpose. Each paragraph is alien to the other, and there are no conclusions, no ending. Such describes my life. Drifting around without a purpose, yet trying to find a purpose. Even at this point, it may seem revelatory, but it is just another hopeless, dignified way to end a post. And to this melancholic end, we pray.

and the last thought - why do people use strike throughs?