Something from my messy archive of e journals

Reading past journals even though I am supposed to study for South Asian History finals.  Sometimes, I am alarmed at the things I write because I don't know where they come from.  They seem to come from a dark place.

June 2012:

"You know, I long to be a child again. To feel and look at life with that peculiar and curious intensity. To look at her, with that exuberance and to hold her, to cradle her as my friend, my companion. I don't know why, these tears are threatening to pour. That – exuberance, that merriment, that ecstasy, that moment. For it will pass as everything else will? That pain and emotion will no longer be the same. Each sensation is uniquely the interplay of time, character and memories. I can no longer feel the precision of my emotions as I did seconds ago. I could no longer revel in my childlike naiveté notions of art, beauty and the world."

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of late, i have lost myself - in the wildest of all woods where all the beasts take misdirected steps, with all their breathe reeking of molten, slimy and unkind algae. but though their strides are wide, they just do not seem to pant. in the stillness of such dark where crickets stridulate and all other sounds more often than not misperceived, i can’t help but feel truly afraid what the next minute brings.. i ran along the stranded route against the gustling wind. and the lack of clarity showed: all i did was make rounds of turning back to where it all began. i’m still here, i still am - i wish i wasn’t though, i wish.
- Y

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Of late, I have not been the best in following my quest. Distracted, I strayed off the path only to come stumbling back, caked in mud and dirt. The empty feeling of listless and restlessness lingers in the edges of my straying mind. Reading the disjointed and driven thoughts of my best friend  has quivered my heart. I am afraid too. Fear drives me like a beast, unrestrained. For we tread the kingdom of beasts, distinguishing ourselves as different, as superiors to her citizens. But am I not a beast wearing a human painted face? For our salient difference between beasts and human lies in our thoughts. My human dignity springs from my shaky control of chaos and what am I when these thoughts disperse and leave me? Thumbing the pages of Pascal's Human Happiness, inadvertently sourcing for my meaning of happiness - does this act makes me more human than the animals? Or grasp of the abstract? I don't have the answers. "all i did was make rounds of turning back to where it all began. i’m still here, i still am - i wish i wasn't though, i wish."

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1. That was supposed to be for my webcomic. But heck, I am going to scrap the project and start a comic journal instead.

2. Just sort of realized I journal a lot during the months of June to August. Been trawling through my box of journals. I stopped art journalling which is pretty sad. Hmm and these two months I haven't been very diligent when it comes to capturing my thoughts and in drawing.   I need to organize them after my finals.