Les jours de peine fredonnent un je ne sais quoi.
The full explanation behind my crying in Literature class while reading “The Mayor of Casterbridge” :
It’s all no thanks to something which triggered me again. See, I’ve been strong about this for so long… I felt I couldn’t hold on anymore.
I knew our law lecturer Raja Singham’s son (I forgot his name) is a whiz kid ; he’s a hip-hopper and a drummer. I read about him one day, some years back – it must be him. Though I can’t say for sure. But the description that everyone gives about him – it just seems to match what I read.
Here I am, just stuck here, alone at home, with no one to share my passion for music.
My late mom was a musician. And she could easily understand me. That passion for music bound us together. She always wanted to hear me sing or play something. And had she been here, she’d have lifted me up. I wouldn’t be light years away from immortalising my heartbeat on the drums. I wouldn’t be light years away from being a singer-songwriter. Most of all, if she were here, she’d be on the grandstand telling people, “That’s my girl!”
Her parents had to take her away from me. They just had to put her life to an end, didn’t they ?
I have no one to do this for me anymore. Dad isn’t at all like mom. He wouldn’t understand. My cousins Narin and Jasvin can’t bond with me the same way mom did. And sometimes, dad forgets my dream. I wish someone can take me by the hand and lift me up, and keep on encouraging me so that no more tears will fall.
Even as I type, silent tears are falling.
I jammed on the piano keys and did a few recordings. I don’t know if I can ever be proud of them – but I’m keeping them in case I’m in need of them. It’s too late to even tap on the drums now. Whenever I can’t find the time to practise on the drums, I just tap on my favourite pillow. But I can’t be doing that forever. Also, I’ve been singing incessantly to the songs of my favourite artistes Mylène Farmer, Alizée and Zazie – and I wonder if this voice will ever be heard someday.
Now that she’s no longer here, all I can ever wish for right now… is for her to appear in a dream, and tell me that she’s proud of me.
God sees my tears. I’m sure of it. But why aren’t my tears being dried ?
Maybe it’s true, when we cry, we cry alone.
I hate putting God to the test. But honestly, right now I feel that if He does care, He’ll dry my tears and lift me up. I don’t see it happening in the near future, let alone in the distant future.
I’m losing all hope.
Lord, please help me.
It’s all no thanks to something which triggered me again. See, I’ve been strong about this for so long… I felt I couldn’t hold on anymore.
I knew our law lecturer Raja Singham’s son (I forgot his name) is a whiz kid ; he’s a hip-hopper and a drummer. I read about him one day, some years back – it must be him. Though I can’t say for sure. But the description that everyone gives about him – it just seems to match what I read.
Here I am, just stuck here, alone at home, with no one to share my passion for music.
My late mom was a musician. And she could easily understand me. That passion for music bound us together. She always wanted to hear me sing or play something. And had she been here, she’d have lifted me up. I wouldn’t be light years away from immortalising my heartbeat on the drums. I wouldn’t be light years away from being a singer-songwriter. Most of all, if she were here, she’d be on the grandstand telling people, “That’s my girl!”
Her parents had to take her away from me. They just had to put her life to an end, didn’t they ?
I have no one to do this for me anymore. Dad isn’t at all like mom. He wouldn’t understand. My cousins Narin and Jasvin can’t bond with me the same way mom did. And sometimes, dad forgets my dream. I wish someone can take me by the hand and lift me up, and keep on encouraging me so that no more tears will fall.
Even as I type, silent tears are falling.
I jammed on the piano keys and did a few recordings. I don’t know if I can ever be proud of them – but I’m keeping them in case I’m in need of them. It’s too late to even tap on the drums now. Whenever I can’t find the time to practise on the drums, I just tap on my favourite pillow. But I can’t be doing that forever. Also, I’ve been singing incessantly to the songs of my favourite artistes Mylène Farmer, Alizée and Zazie – and I wonder if this voice will ever be heard someday.
Now that she’s no longer here, all I can ever wish for right now… is for her to appear in a dream, and tell me that she’s proud of me.
God sees my tears. I’m sure of it. But why aren’t my tears being dried ?
Maybe it’s true, when we cry, we cry alone.
I hate putting God to the test. But honestly, right now I feel that if He does care, He’ll dry my tears and lift me up. I don’t see it happening in the near future, let alone in the distant future.
I’m losing all hope.
Lord, please help me.
4 comments:
"Invisible tears are the hardest to wipe away."
found your blog while reading yasmin ahmad's.
cheer up girl.
-ikin-
thank you ikin. God bless you for this.
Hey Troisnyx,
Came across your blog courtesy of my Google Alert for Alizée. Just wanted to drop you a line to tell you to hang in there.
I don't subscribe to any particular organized religion, but I can tell you this for sure: God is still listening. It's just that sometimes we need to be tested so we can grow.
It's small comfort, I know--I've been going through something similiar myself this year--but don't lose faith and hope. Someday you may look back on this time of your life and realize how it shaped you, artistically. Art often comes from adversity.
Chin up, young person. Like my grandmother used to tell us, this too shall pass. ;)
I'll lift my head high.
Thanks, Ruroshen. :)
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