Bittersweet.

华初跆拳道. [hctkd;] ((:

Kizuna. Bonds.

Lost for words. Yeah.

How'd you feel when this feeling of belonging and familiarity washed over. That hey, time's up.

Sigh, how the heart attaches itself to the familiar, latch itself firm and secure. Sigh, time flies really fast. We were carefree (relatively), had no troubles, just fun and the sun (okay, not as rosy, but well..); now we're taxed with much larger burdens, given larger portions of responsibility. For the once-junior is now the senior, soon to be relegated to a part of the never ending trend. The cycle continues, sigh. I will miss the times here. :):

--

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence.The first day, the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one."

---

 

  一生, 二熟, 

'从此以后, 不要犯同一个错误.'

 

  -王菲 - 笑忘书.

五月, 五天.

hc:tkd;
We've trained;
We've joked; laughed;
We've made monkeys and psychopaths look docile;
I've, had a really great time.
Friday, the culmination, the zenith;

Please, please let us shine.

---

THE EMPEROR MOTH

A man once found a cocoon of the beautiful Emperor Moth and took it home so he could watch the moth emerge from the cocoon.
On the day a small opening appeared, he sat, enthralled, and watched for several hours as the moth struggled to force its body through that little hole. After a while, it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could go and it could go no further. It just seemed to be stuck.
So the man, in his kindness, decided to help the moth.... he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon. To his relief, the moth then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. The man continued to watch the moth because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to support the body, which would contract in time -- and the moth would fly away. But it never happened!
In fact, the little moth spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.
What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the moth to get through the tiny opening was the way of forcing fluid from the body of the moth into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon.
Freedom and flight could only come after the struggle. By depriving the moth of its struggle, he deprived the moth of health and freedom.
If we were to go through our lives without any obstacles or struggles, we too would be crippled. We would not be as strong as what we could have been. Give every struggle (opportunity) a chance, learn to grow beyond it and fly free of your cocoon -- leave no room for regrets.

~Author Unknown~

---

Remember that being alone doesn't always mean being lonely; it can be a beautiful experience of finding your creativity, your heartfelt feelings, and the calm and quiet peace deep inside you. Life's beautiful, ain't it? (:

Choice.

Countdowns.


Seems that life, it's just full of them, ain't it?
Till the next major event; the next test, the next appointment, the next competition, the next.., till death do we part, gee, great.
Of course, it doesn't necessarily also mean that pressures are always an evil. It is, subjugated to the wrong handling, a detrimental force, however also one that is also able to mold, shape and sculpt the individual to greatness.
How, are we to face it?

---

Story of the pots

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on the end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots was perfectly made and never leaked. The other pot had a crack in it and by the time the water bearer reached his master's house it had leaked much of it's water and was only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all, just like the cracked pot. Don't be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.

---

T(-14). It's fulfilling, no matter how exhaustive, how draining. And I'll do my best for just that.

The Dream.

Every waking moment; every fleeting whisper of a soon to be forgotten dream. Etched clearly.

---

One, of pursuit, of flight, of escape.

Hot on your tracks, they pursue.
Track, chase, hunt. Their target, yeah, you.
When every of your evasive maneuvers lies open to inspection, every flaw open to scrutiny. Man's worse nightmare -- the society.
Society, in it's purest form. Ever thought, as children why we were inoculated with the belief, that all around us were terrifying beasts, ever stranger a lurking devil behind his cheery mask. To caution us of the harm society could bring? That which others could introduce?

Escape. Bizzare, but possible? Escape, from the society and its connotations, free from any societal chains and shackles, liberated from any consequences. Alive.
But would one leave behind what's his and move forward? That was particularly the dilemma that was brought forth. For one would feel the guilt and sadness as the individual left one's commitments behind. Escape, a frivolous idea, partaken in the semi conscious state. Dreamnt, but never entertained.

When society cries out loud: Be realistic, we only shrug, in defeat and resignation.

---


It's your fight, not mine, not theirs. Yours.

It's heartening, to be able to see through the fog and rain.
To be able to smile, though with pains, to yet another brighter day.
I salute thee, for braving the path none likes to go.
Overcame finally, yourself. (: