Brightest- Copeland

i realised how much families go through. often we don't bother with being conscious about them, because they seem to be there everyday. it's like they never, ever, disappear.

today was my grandpa's birthday. as usual, my grandma had to steal his limelight.

how do you stay together for 50 years?
someone called me a stubborn ass for not wanting to doll up. he said "it takes effort to look your best". it was a no-win argument. so i told him,

"i'll doll up if i believe in love again."

it's called self-fulfilling prophecy. you don't think anybody will ever care if you decide to look pretty, so you dress like a hobo. then you blame other people for not giving two farts about you because you look like a hobo.

the whole "love" thing just isn't working for me. since i don't think anyone's paying attention, why bother?

i want to be like my mum. she attracts well-off, intellectual men even though she can't apply a blush properly. but i think all that glitz only came after a bad marriage.
you see life differently after trauma, hence you're different.

i'm fast-approaching a significant age, and it took 2 seconds of my entire lifetime to realise that nothing is forever. i've always lamented that i'm too ordinary, but that's really so far from the truth. huge events have happened; they were just not worth remembering.

when my dad died, a part of him was missing: his glasses. we looked high and low for it- where he jumped, in the house, at his office, but those damned glasses just weren't there.
just when you thought you could keep a little more of someone, to possess his memory, his strength, his horrible character, his smoking habit, you didn't realise that you have it all within you.
well, i know now why i wanted those glasses as much as my mum did. i wanted to see the world through my dad's eyes. i wanted to know how he found the courage to abandon everything.
even as i love/hate him now, i want to be him. there's no other way to keep him alive. though, as Milan Kundera said, immortality can be attained by death.

but people always leave.

If you find yourself here
On my side of town
I pray that you'd come to my door

And talk to me
Like you don't know
What we ever fought about
I don't remember anymore

I just know that he warms my heart
And knows what all my imperfections are

And he said that I was the brightest
Little firefly in his jar

And I just know that he warms my heart
And knows what all my imperfections are

And he says that I am the brightest
Little firefly in his jar

this song,
is for my dad.

I blogged @ 10:28 PM