Flying hours

I have to eat my words from Saturday afternoon. I can't not write, despite what I told two of my closest friends.

In the past two years, I learned that in learning about who my friends are, or the kind of people they are and have become, I've learned a thing or two about myself. Experiences changes a person, we all know that. What I seem to be repeatedly learning is that experience affects absolutely everything, the makeup and the core of a person being human. It can strip away the perspectives that you've held onto for as long as you remember and may or may not keep intact your values and dignity. When and if you've lost your values or your dignity to be compromised, you've got to strip away from that past circle, and get onto a new path, to re-learn, to see again, to feel again, to touch again. That's what I'm working on: to be inspired by humanity.

Every deep conversation that I carry with my best friend, it leaves me profound that there's a soul out there who doesn't necessarily fully understand me, but tries. It's a humbling knowledge that somebody respects you and your decisions, and still grounds you.

Every moment of connection and chemistry with a good friend leaves me inspired, to write and to feel again. It's the over-dramatization that makes you reflect your choices and your path. Maybe you'd call that an extremity but to truly reflect and keep yourself in check, by extension, you'd have to allow it.

Every source of laughter with a childhood friend leaves me feeling absolute bliss, then ponder about how much I have truly laughed or smiled lately. It's the remembrance of good times that make you wonder how much time you've left at all.

Every remnants of witnessing a friend remembering her mother who died from breast cancer several years ago, I wonder about how hardly or rarely anyone else seems to appreciate their parents, especially when they have been loved and been given everything they want and need. Are we really that forgetful? Do we really only abide by the pragmatics of life?

Every little additional details that I learn about my little sister, I wonder about how I never learned it the first time around, how I failed to see her changing. I then realize that I've changed, far exceeding or crushing some of her expectations of me.

When something happened last Tuesday on the train, I wondered how long am I going to deny myself what I need, how long am I going to compromise my happiness when I hold onto anything out of being sentimental, how much time am I going to waste away by shouldering all the unnecessary burdens. I absolutely feel like time is running out. Times are a changin', louder than ever. And that's not to be taken figuratively. I'm not going to waste time by taking life ever so lightly because there are a lot of things I need to do. I just need to remember that and put it into action.