Faster. Faster.
It is not the same as before. Everything. I think I lost something somewhere along the line and my footprints are already gone. If I were to wish for something, I think it would be to not care as much. As before. Doing good. Doing too much good is intoxicating. I just realized. Doing good but not good enough. Doing good but still fail in the end. Doing good and that's it. No PS, no epilogue, not even an aftertaste of the math. And I wonder what is next in the line. In the parallel line where I see something unreachable. I wonder when will it be real again.
My parents were awfully civil to each other today. I worried a lot, but I didn't let them see. There's something going on, creaking itself in our cold walls and enveloping us with its silence. They have a problem, I know, I feel, but I don't let them see. It's bigger than the other problems they fight with. Not together as one, but as each. As 'I'. As 'You'. As two people coincidentally having the same set of burden. Do this and do that and you’ll have a jagged piece of puzzle, mixed up and mixed out. With no care and love. With nothing but civility. And I watch them get consumed, one with work, the other with rubbish. I watch them live separately under one roof. I watch them be civil, and be more civil every second, minute, and day.
It is truly sad, really is. But there’s nothing more I can do at this point. It’s like a terminal illness, already waiting for its invasion of that last cell. I think what I can do now is grieve in advance and move on when I am done. When they are done. When everything is done and the house is finally torn apart.
For other matters, I will be selling my Gackt CDs. Real ones. Will post the specs next week.
My parents were awfully civil to each other today. I worried a lot, but I didn't let them see. There's something going on, creaking itself in our cold walls and enveloping us with its silence. They have a problem, I know, I feel, but I don't let them see. It's bigger than the other problems they fight with. Not together as one, but as each. As 'I'. As 'You'. As two people coincidentally having the same set of burden. Do this and do that and you’ll have a jagged piece of puzzle, mixed up and mixed out. With no care and love. With nothing but civility. And I watch them get consumed, one with work, the other with rubbish. I watch them live separately under one roof. I watch them be civil, and be more civil every second, minute, and day.
It is truly sad, really is. But there’s nothing more I can do at this point. It’s like a terminal illness, already waiting for its invasion of that last cell. I think what I can do now is grieve in advance and move on when I am done. When they are done. When everything is done and the house is finally torn apart.
For other matters, I will be selling my Gackt CDs. Real ones. Will post the specs next week.