Friday, July 8, 2011

Before life removed all the innocence.

I am proud to present to you this.

During the days of uncrossable oblivion, thousands of cheap smiles entangled my very personality. These days that I cannot let go. These days that I yearn for all of my life. These days that I was proud to say:


As I felt the soothing rain and play some saggy piano music for backdrop's sake, I began to mesmerize these stupid yet meaningful memoirs called "childhood". The endless days of being free with your teddy bear. Running around and screaming with slime on your face. Creating dozens of life-contaminating secret ingredients. Experimenting on tears and how salty they taste when you lick on them. I cannot ask for more.

There was no such thing as Facebook. Not even Twitter. There was only HTML, Yahoo Messenger, and Internet Explorer. Dealing with wizards from all kinds of worlds was just a piece of apple pie. Those who are precious to you still remain, though you may not realize it sooner. You spend time with them doing nonsense things, even things that would defy all human rules. Even things that would destroy your future.

Music was grandiose during those eras. I was able to soar with wings made up of sheet music and redundant lyrics, and it was okay. My heart could touch all kinds of non-winged sparrows, black and white. There was no need for cellphones. There was no need for soap operas. And more importantly, there was no need for outside rallies.

As the subtle strings of the melodies I hear pass my ears by, I float on a strange utopia. That place where things can be reset. The place where things are simple and pointless. Where pixel 3D graphics run wild. Where fire and ice combine with each other to form a beautiful display of glorious light showers. Dolls accompany you to your favorite hang-out places like dreamy beaches and swimming pools that you can actually breathe on, even underwater.

The look of innocent eyes were just around the corner. Thousands of fruit shakes await every lobster's dreams. Like floating on a summer boat without remorse nor regret. All of the Catholic churches give to the poorest of poor. Community leaders conduct informal festivals. Schools just do everything they can to make students happy.

Books were filled with meaningful pages that eventually evolve into songs from abstract feelings. The butterflies that are now distorting my brain were once sugar fairies that embraced me wherever I went. Words were always filled with warmth and kindness. Seeds of hope grow into beautiful trees for everyone to sit or lie down and start to think about their future dreams. These dreams were vast and very possible. There were no firewalls yet.

Soulful poems drive my spirit into the hazy sky where everyone's desires were connected.
And now those dreams are nothing but photo albums.
Photo albums that only serve as shadows.
Shadows that lurk in the dark.
The dark forsaken room.
Where a box lies sealed away forever.

Pandora's Box.

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