It always takes some sort of loss, before we learn how to celebrate life.

I don’t know when is the last time something triggers something like this out of me, but I believe it has something to do with something I have been wanting to write more about, but could not find the emotional strength to sit through.

So, comes in the procrastination.

I have been wanting to write about my parents.

I have been wanting to write about this particular conversation I have had with my dad some weeks back that made me cry, but just kept putting off.

And then, instead of writing them down, the words got tossed around, and played with my mind tonight.

I have had trouble sleeping these couple of days, with my energy level going sky high. Then I will doze off in car rides from destination A to B, finding solace in the cool, chilly, rainy weather.

The thoughts that process through my mind are at bullet-speed, flying past at a frightening speed, as if my mind could take it no more.

Yet at the same time, I couldn’t verbalise them out, and they get stuck at the back of my head.

Then, I panic.

And when I do, more thoughts starting triggering and flooding to the front, and the vicious cycle continue, and I could not capture them in time.

Even the important ones got lost somewhere along the way.

If people meet me in real life before, I am not one who is the most eloquent person you will find. I have problems expressing myself, and words often get in the way of speech.

Strangely enough, when I start to let my fingers do the typing, the speed and flow and heaviness of my push on the keys, often could reach the point of a frantic obsession.

Because the thoughts are just so eager to flow out.

Maybe that’s why this space has became somewhat like a bubbled world to me.

It makes me feel less vulnerable than in the real world, safer in my own world, yet finally find the release of getting my thoughts in words, and I could find the clues to those little thoughts that slip me by ever so often, and catch glimpses of them, in case I miss them.

Somewhat it also slows down the speed of thoughts in me, and make me… finding the space to… just breathe.

So many things on my mind.

So many backlogs.

So many things seen and heard.

So many things bulleting forward.

So many things.

And yet, there are times like this, when I just wanna mute everything, silence everything, so that the mind get some peace.

Someone asked me if I was upset today as I sat there staring into the blank space, reflecting upon life. Reflecting upon changes.

The precise 2 topics. One brought up over a break at work, and another brought up at a wake.

I thought of the conversation with dad, and then saw the vultures who were consumed by greed, taking advantage of people who are dealing with grief. How low.

As usual, the upfrontness and candidness got the better of me, and the exact thoughts going on in my mind were voiced out to two, sweet young girls who probably had done pretty well adding a sweet tinge to the bitterness in life.

It is morbid in some ways, but that was what the conversation with dad was about. Somewhat morbid, somewhat matter-of-factly.

And then, only now, did I realise, they were right.

I was upset, and I was disturbed. But I felt I shouldn’t or have any rights to be, cos… everyone was putting on a brave, strong front.

“It is okay now lah, but once the party is over…” she half-laughed to mask the thought she probably didn’t want to spend time dwelling on.

I was thinking about my family.

I was thinking about people I love.

I was thinking about things I have been taken for granted.

I was thinking about the conversation.

I was thinking about things I don’t want to talk about or entertain the possibility.

But this is life. The unpredictability, the regrets.

What purpose does this post serve?

It will be like a few other posts, sparked off by a sense of moroseness, and then we all, trudge on, and will soon forget the moral of the story it is supposed to drill into my thick skull.

Cos sometimes, we just hope that with sheer mind power, we can will away the things we don’t want happen to us, and trudging on with the silliness, making mental notes along the way to not be complacent with what we have.

You can call it denial. I call it coping with life. Different people have different ways of making life more bearable to get through.

Some do it more aggressively, by putting others down to elevate themselves, some do it by arming themselves with walls so they can brace themselves for war anytime, some  just choose to forget so they are not gnawed by the pain. Some choose to laugh, so to.. just… make-belief they are strong.

And everyone, to a certain degree, does it, differentiated by the level of integrity exercised, or compromised.

And with the crazy idea I have been toying in my head, with the signs and all… it seems like I should just go ahead, and put it into action and be, gee, I don’t know, utterly, senselessly, crazy.