Why? Why? Why?

You keep visiting but you don't say a word. Why am I so bothered by the silence? Has technology really gotten to us that with machines, we can take a peek without leaving a mark. Of course it is detectable (which is why I know you visited), but the point is that, without humanly contact, you have lost the obligation to say "Hi, how have you been?". Ok, maybe obligation is too big a word. But how about courtesy? I'm not hinting on rudeness but I mean, well... a "hi" is just nice. It's just like sending over a smile, communicating over a certain degree of concern, conveying regards. Especially when you're cut off from a certain circle, the least you'd hope for is that you're not forgotten.

Maybe I think too much. Maybe deep inside, I seek attention. Maybe, I just feel neglected so I'm infecting others with my concern. Funny how you are happy with the people around you yet you feel so alone. Strange how you feel so unloved when you sit in bed late at night thinking what to do the next day, with no plans, you pick up a book... then you hunger, followed by snacking... disgust sets in at the amount of junk you stuff in your face at 4am, so you play some slow music to put you to sleep and then you wonder if anyone had thought of you in the day, and you think about the people you care for. You look out the window and observe the flats... it's all dark except a few lighted ones. Is everyone really asleep preparing themselves for the next day, day after day? How can they do that? Are they loved? Do they love?

Well, love itself is a word with many meanings... similar to that unmentionable gauche F-word. I love god. I love family. I love to observe. I love to be loved. I love nature. I love Shadow, my cat. I love my boots. I love to procrastinate. I love to read a good book. I love music. I love the fact that we are all differentiated individuals. I love to learn. I love sleeping. I love the life cycle because it regulates life. I love it when I don't watch tv. I love my friends. I love the feel of satin on my skin. I love myself for waking up in the morning to go to the gym. I love to be acknowledged. I love to experiment in the kitchen. I love to love. I love. I can love. Yet, I cannot say I love myself. Why is it always difficult to love yourself? Do I set myself too high standards? Or am I not trying hard enough? They say, we should be thankful for what we're born with. For example, I am not nurtured to procrastinate and laze. But it is also my nature. Thus, should I be thankful for it? No right? haha... I'm starting to derail by the way. Flow of thought, that is.

I don't know why there are always issues with me. (Or within me) There's always a battle between my head and heart. It's always like that, isn't it? Anyway, this entry has no point. I cannot write anymore because it is 5am. I am wide awake yet I'm so tired my back hurts. Sometimes I wish I could sleep and sleep. So, I've put the beef on the stove, making stock for the soup I want to cook tomorrow. After I log off, I'll write a list of ingredients for mummy to buy. And read to sleep. Or end up listening to children songs and reminisce to sleep.

I don't know why but I love life, yet I'm losing the confidence to live. How will you interpret that?

C'est la vie?