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poem: loss
written: 3:27 p.m. on Monday, Oct. 09, 2006

I found this while trying to locate one of my Company Law lecture notes (still can't find it). I wrote it last year for the Warwick email interview. It came with specific instructions: "Please write me a poem on the theme of �loss� but using the following form: one stanza of 7 lines each of 7 syllables, followed by a one stanza of 8 lines each of 8 syllables. But don�t use any adjectives, and don�t spend more than 45 minutes on the exercise."

Loss

The picture is of a child
almost swallowed by the chair
in which she sits. Dreams are made
of fairytales, nursery
rhymes, and lullabies at night.
The cradle will never fall.
It crashes straight to the ground

in Contract Law that attempts to
measure distress, pin a value
to the intangible. They laugh
at emotions, idealism.
Fight for justice? Would rather make
cash, and they tear off the blindfold.
It flutters to the ground, resting
next to my childhood photograph.

**

I think I forgot to save my lecture notes that day or something.

Reading this makes me sad, brings back the angst from last year, reminds me again of the chances and opportunities I passed up for...this. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it; most of the time I know it's not; but for some reason, I stubbornly refuse to yield, anyway.

If I'm going to drown, I want to know that it's all me. My own doing. At times like these, you really can only depend on yourself.

And I really do not want to be one of those people who enter a profession because they don't know what else to do. Unlike them, I know what I want to do; and unlike them, I'm also way too stubborn to be resigned to my "fate". In the first place I don't believe in fate, destiny, all that sentimental bullshit that only exist in movies and badly-written books. I think of the end of everything and it makes even less sense to continue blindly stumbling down this path when I'm going to be faced with some fork in the road of sorts, a couple of years later. And when that time comes I know how I'm going to choose.

And so all is not lost. You can laugh at me and ridicule me but unlike most people, I really don't give a fuck what anyone has to say, and that's probably the truest, most honest thing I can ever say for the record.

For now, I grit my teeth, block out everything else, and just keep on trucking.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010