sparking blog

i went through the years in my gallery today. and as you can imagine, it is overwhelming. it encapsulates a time period of six years. kind of the same face, kind of a totally different face. same but entirely different. it is a reminder of who you truly were. what you have always been. the things that never changed and the things that were abandoned. it can come with tears, for a true audience. it can be a full circle moment, if nothing else. and it undeniably exposes what and how writing was before ai. this is me, when i was 20 years old, going wild, before ai, before the lights went out in my brain. with love, have these bare thoughts of a teenage girl.

“the fact is that five years ago i was, as near as possible, a different person to what i am tonight, i, as i am now, didn’t exist at all. will the same thing happen in the next five years? i hope so.”

written on January 1, 2021.

obscurity consumes my soul, every piece of it. all i desire is to know there is a place to be, a time to come. how insignificant all my worries must sound…just a tiny matter in a pale blue dot in this vast universe. who can know there is a whole universe inside her mind? no, i don’t wish to be heard. if anything, i’d wish to be far away so that no one could expect me to be heard. there are some moments and places where i would love to be seen and heard. but it seems to me, they do not exist. i am always scared that one day it will be too late, i would be too old. all the magic will be gone, faded. what if my ink doesn’t fit into my hands, or what if the magic vein that travels from the bewildering depths of my mind to my fingers gets cut? what if all the magic disappears, what if it already did? these questions don’t appear to end. i feel like wandering around in my head sometimes, i can’t reach anything. one could say i dwell on my thoughts and troubles too much, but if there’s nothing as important to drive you mad, what is there to live for?

you never know when you will be reminded of what you really want to do with your life, in the middle of your twenties, in a state of absolute crisis about what you want to do with your life. you never guess that it can come through a piece you wrote when you were 18, going 19. this is what i wrote on January 2, 2020.

sometimes i find myself craving for all kinds of knowledge. even though i try to improve myself intellectually, i always see things that i don’t know. solely them. just like Voltaire said: “the more i read, the more i acquire, the more certain i am that i know nothing.” i want to better myself at romantic language, poetry, classics, and imagination. i want to know about the universe and its ways, i want to learn about astrophysics. i want to know about philosophy, Sartre, myself. i want to get into as many author’s heads as possible. i want to see what they stand for. i want to see all the centuries that i missed. i am well aware that i cannot know everything, i can’t even possibly come close to it. however, i want to do these things in my own little world. i am in love with being intellectually stimulated. so, let me stimulate myself intellectually. i would love to spend my life like this.

this was written on January 1, 2021, about my high school best friend, years after we fell out. i was 19 going 20. very dramatic. absolute mess. somewhat poetic. definitely under the influence of Taylor Swift, based on the date, mostly folklore and evermore.

do you remember the day when my pen broke

and your mind was lost

my ink flew away in the blink of an eye

it took our memories, send them to die

every little walk of our own

after school, before the dawn

every little laughter, sorrow, and flutter

no matter which clothes the trees wore

we stood together.

your dad drove us to your place

you walked to mine

when my eyes become sour

and my shoulders rust,

you are what i remember

your smile, our trust, everything in dust.

i recall a november

when i felt alone, the next thing i saw

was your face at my door,

you cooked, we talked, wrote down our dreams

do you ever think about me?

do you ever recall these times i recall?

’cause when you dropped my hand

all was dull, all was gone.

where did our sleepovers, coffee dates die?

when did our dreams come to grief?

the days when you felt torn down

i was your safest sound

the times i almost drowned

you were my breath that i forgot to take

tell me how did it all come to this?

how come you don’t give me answers

how come you only break the heart you found shelter in when you do speak?

how do you use only the cruelest words for the

person who wrote almost books about you?

I stood. i paced up and down within my exquisite darkness. i opened my chest wide open. let everything you planted there consume me. i wrote pages and pages and pages. i never sat down. i wrote those pages standing, pacing. until my pen broke. until my ink flew. until my kindred spirit was gone. until she dropped my hand and left me torn.

I still do not know what i did to you, to us, honestly. but it must be the worst thing i have ever done, whatever that is. i apologize. i love you. but it’s time i went on. i can no longer wait for your closure. i leave this behind, still ornamented in my soul. i wish you happiness. i love you and i let you go.

i think we all have a lot to learn from our younger selves. i have a lot to learn from my younger self. because i am still the same but only entirely different.