Be with a man to get your mind off another man, it’s the same as being unfaithful to prove your faithfulness, the same as fucking for virginity.

I really don’t know much about love, only that I needed it. Not all that hair blowing ocean cruising rain chasing kinda love we see in the movies, but something born out of the ordinary, something real. Love is both created and destroyed by people, and ordinary is what people really are.

I don’t know how to say it, and maybe I never will, but my arms would be upright gracing the gentle wind, waiting for that one person to put me back in my dreams.

A walk along common streets has revealed to me countless occurences of slim bodies, often embraced in clothing that could best flatter the underlying features; slender legs, curvaceous hips, arching tight bum and not to mention, the irresistably blinding cleavage. Train up some willpower, and try not staring at hot bods while others are, you would realize the perverse looks of envy and admiration people involuntarily give.

But yet amidst of a culture I have gotten myself so used to, I find myself happy, certainly not because I have the perfect body, but because of that innocent smile, those soft warm hands, and the comforting acceptance that has reinforced me with all the confidence that I need. Even with all that perfect-ness that people pursue, the old saying still stands. All you need is indeed just one thing, love.

Pale and white, restless plight.
Helpless and anxious, brain light.
I dun care if you hate me, please be alright?

Seconds met.
What you meant to me, was clear in black and white.

Carry me love, so I may be at ease.

Many would say it is a relative term, that one can never be happy, but only happier than, or not as happy as. In that sense, I thought to myself, wouldn’t the chase for happiness be an unattainable desire which runs in an endless loop, resulting in nothing but a tiresome routine which fatigues the soul out of it’s lustful hunger?

The answer to happiness, has to be contented-ness. To be happy is to be contented. It is when one draws the line of being full from hunger, when one determines exhaustion from restlessness, when one finally and willingly commands the body that we had enough, that we had all that is desired, and that we are now at peace. Happiness is fundamentally a non-relative term, but a baseline, where all basic needs are met and the requirements that we physically set are fulfilled. A point where after which anything excess would be a surplus, where anything less would cause misery. Upon that realization, I re-emphasized to myself: I want to be happy.

From then on, I was a cheerful young man. Everyday was the same to me, regardless of festivity and celebrations. I seek joy in the simplicity of life, in the glamour of non-glamour, in the extravagance of basicity. Like a child receiving candies, like a retiree with an evening smoke by the park, like a teenager with the first fish on his hook, like a mom with the first glimpse of her child, like a groom with a first kiss from his bride… Life was beautiful. It was crystalized with an outburst of emotions, but innocent, and simple at heart. It was extremely beautiful.

As time passed, I still find myself being unhappy from time to time. Am I not contented? Is my baseline too high? Have my philosophy changed? I searched and searched and find the answers were no. I then realized that being easily contented does not equate to happiness directly. There is an element which is often so obvious yet hardly thought of. Simply, the lack of sadness could bring one into a state of peace, and together with contentedness, one would be free of burning pursuits, of unrequited endeavors, of unanswered prayers. One would be in harmony, and one would be happy.

Happiness, is the lack of sadness.

Happy birthday myself. Wait, let me rephrase that…

His was struck by lightning, diseased, avoided.
A man of bad luck, born out of plight.
His grievance grew, his grudge for god surfaced,
But like a dying man, he smiled and wondered,
Why the grievance and grudges, my happy days are numbered.
With a breath and a sigh, he waited for joy to be manifested.

He was used, betrayed, unloved, ignored.
A daughter corrupted, and a spouse too un-contented.
His generosity unappreciated, his true love unrequited.
But like a dying man, he smiled and wondered,
Why feel sad and unwanted, my happy days are numbered.
With continual faith and unselfish love, he waited for joy to be manifested.

He served, sacrificed, lived and loved.
A man of great Inspiration, a rare case of existence.
He lay on his bed weak, people around wept his condition.
Now a dying man, he smiled and murmured,
Why the unhappiness, our happy days are numbered.
With tears in his eyes, he left as joy manifested.

Maybe I was never in the picture. Photographer or otherwise.

I should get used to feeling like a nobody, ’cause everything I’ve been into has brought me the same conclusion.

I have no idea what to think anymore. Life’s a bitch.

Get real, it’s me against the world, alone.

It’s impossible to keep you out of my mind. Hmph.