I am feeling an inexplicable mixture of anger, sadness, and hopelessness this very moment. I do not know, but it seems to have arisen out of the background noise of a conversation with a witty taxi driver about Singapore, an article by Nur Dianah Suhaimi on Malays in Singapore, conversations I listened to between a couple of ladies I met during today’s volunteering session, Dead Poets’ Society, which I just finished watching (and on impulse did I watch it), an unfruitful but not argumentative conversation I had with my mother, a clip from The Notebook which someone posted on Facebook, the one that went “if you’re a bird, I’m a bird” and then kiss kiss smooch smooch, the deafening silence of my mobile phone, and perhaps of the vacuousness of life, and the questions upon questions that I constantly carry in my head.
I am asking: does anyone take me seriously? I am not just a cog in the machine. I am living and breathing every moment, as if it were my last. I am thinking of every single thing, and my insides are dying to let it out. Carpe diem. Carpe diem is in every little prayer that the heart cries out to be heard, every tear, every moment of solitude, every reflection, every moment of consciousness, every minute past midnight spent staring blankly into sheer loneliness, in grief, or in relief. And realizing that only one could take oneself seriously, and no one else. Absolutely, no one else.
