Friday, October 19, 2012
世人角色真是为 谎言而上
她已分不清 哪个是真相
发带雪 秋夜已凉
到底是为谁梳个半面妆
With this sort of society we're living in, sometimes it takes a lot to remember that we're alive.
But we are alive.
That is what, I think, is one of the most important things that anyone has to know. Why does salvation have to come in the afterlife? Why can't it be now? Do we even have an afterlife?
I feel so conflicted and confused.
People's faces just don't tell you much. Well perhaps in come cases they can, but those are exceptions. That's what they were made for, deceptions and lies. Like everything else. I think people are just bad for each other. It just doesn't always work out nicely the way you want it to.
I realise my mood is very affected by what I'm writing at the point in time, or perhaps it's the other way round. I write something in my scene/my characters say, then I just suddenly have these waves of emotion when I re-read/mull over them. Perhaps this is what it means to write. To be so much of the character that you feel what they feel.
Maybe I'm just schizophrenic. And once again this propagates my descent into insanity.
I just want to, be.
Posted at 9:48 PM
