the past
take a walk in the alley of yesterday
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
October 2008
Saturday, April 21, 2007
12:56 AM
i suddenly had this huge surge of inspiration. hah. its about a story of a girl that talks about how one grows over time and loses her innocence along the way. i dunno... comments? aiya this is just random work cos i just felt like it. i love essays like that! HAHA.The Garden
Seven.
The girl raced into the garden, hand in hand with her mother, her light footsteps pattering on the lush green grass. The edges of her floral dress bobbed in the breeze. Wide-eyed and innocent, she picked up a white rose and turned to her mother, "Look, mummy. It's so pretty!" The girl smelt the fragrance of the flower and threw herself to the soft carpet of grass, tilting her head up to the sky. Spring had come and the sky was fair and clear. The girl spotted clouds in the distance. Thick like cotton candy, the clouds had blossomed into a spectacular scene of flowers and butterflies, like a magical garden in the sky. The girl marvelled at it for a long time and she wished that someday she might be able to enter that paradise. She believed in the clouds, that one day they might take her to a place where there was fun, laughter and joy. A drop of rain landed on her finger. Rain, for the flowers, she grinned. The flowers would be happy and she would be too. She felt her mother pull her by the arm. It was time to go. She bade farewell to the flowers as she skipped her way home. The garden was her playground; the garden was her world. It was of utmost importance.
Fifteen.
The girl returned to the garden once more, hoping to relish what was once her perfect world, her perfect childhood memory. The garden still looked the same as before, still that scent of fragrance and the rejuvenating breath of fresh air. The flowers still looked appealing to her, as though their colours had never faded for the past eight years. Spring was like the breath of life, breathing air and vibrancy into the flora. She broke free from her mother’s hand, and raced to the rose bush, which she had loved as a child. Eagerly, she picked up the white rose, wanting to be amazed by its beauty, wanting to be fascinated by its pure petals. Yet, crimson red soon oozed out of her delicate fingers and the girl cried out in pain. It was not pain that made her cry out, yet, the girl was shocked, for she had never experienced a prick near the bush. She looked at the rose she picked, the same rose from the same rose bush eight years ago. She spotted thorns. That is weird, she thought. She had never realised that the rose she loved so much and believed in had thorns. Thorns that prick. All along in her life she had valued that rose as a symbol of perfection, beauty and grace. She knew she was wrong. What was a figment of her childhood imagination had turned to reality, indeed. Roses are not perfect.
The girl felt cheated, deceived by the rose’s beauty that within it lay a thorn so treacherous. She flung it to the floor hastily. She then remembered how she used to lie on the bed of grass and watch the clouds. But the girl, immaculately dressed was apprehensive about getting her Levi’s soaked in soil and her locks in a mess. They were her most important assets. Twirling her locks around her freshly painted nails, she glanced at the clouds high above. Thick clouds meant imminent rain, she thought. She decided to run for cover. The dark clouds had started to loom ominously and raced towards her. The girl ran for her life, sprinting across the muddy land. How she hated this garden, the rose with thorns, the clouds that brought such terrible weather. To think that all these were hidden amidst the beauty and elegance of the garden. She was wrong, very wrong. She needed to run out of that place. Her world was upside down and she realised the deceptive layers of the garden. That stupid garden, she muttered as she took refuge in a nearby Internet café. Everything is fine now; she heaved a sigh of relief. She was finally back to reality. I need a change of clothes, she thought to herself as she turned her back to the rain and hurried to the counter.
Amidst the clattering of feet and the heavy beats of raindrops, there lay a stalk of white rose, so pure, so elegant among the lush green grass. So perfect, until it felt a footstep sending it away from the garden, a garden so perfect.
i feel quite proud of myself. but i guess i'm off to do better stuff. stuff i SHOULD do.
herbasics
shiyun
14 going on 15
30.09.93
NYGH
DOES:
theatre
english literature
JAPANESE
ADORES:
foreign languages
creative writing
cheesecake!
online dramas
roller coasters
singing for the love of it
music
PEEVES:
disorganized notes
long-winded people
noise early in the morning
alot of homework ALL AT ONCE
too much pressure
WANTS TO CHANGE:
procrastination
being late all the time
wishes
striving for these
- to LOVE my life
- step back, relax and break rules from time to time (IF POSSIBLE)
- keep very close to GOD
- master the Japanese language, then learn at least 1 or 2 more
- to master my piano skills, at least match up to a reasonable standard?
- attend vocal courses (:
- learn the drums
- to be more hospitable
- exercise more!
