When Past Meets Present, When It Doesn't Matter Anymore

Sometimes we get what we ask for in the most outrageous of sources. Sometimes, we get the opposite of that fatal answer we hope and dream for. And even in other times, we just don't get a clue of what we seek for.

These are times when a song on your mind keeps playing over and over, drowning the apparent doubt that resurfaces every now and then. When the replay button goes on an overdrive and the usual night calm cast away by the sounds of music beats and tunes.

And you get lost in emotion, till the deepest abysses of thought and feeling.

***

I miss the simpler times, when things were in their infancy and you could teach life how it should be, much like that of a baby. Simple steps, small and gentle paces on the pathway to an aim. That's it: I never had the aim when I walked the first time. We all just wanted to walk, not knowing where we were walking to. And when we do realise, we've walked by the place we were to stop at, and there's no turning back. The only way is forward, and you hope that it will take you pass that stop all over again, while also hoping your previous journey past it is long forgotten and not thought of any longer.

Such circumstances only last in dreams. And I have to stop dreaming if I want reality back, the reality I cherished ever so much only months ago. That was when I felt at my prime, at the top of my strength and valour, the pinnacle of all I stood for. Invincible, unperturbed, empowered. I miss that fateful confidence that longed for stress and challenge, and took each one head on with no second thoughts. The thrust of such power.

Yet here I am now, biting back the very essence of emotions that came knocking at my door when I let my guard down. The walls which held firm not two seasons ago crumbled beneath the staggering resurfacing of an old foe, one which has yet to have an eternal slumber once believed it was in.

So what now? I shall compromise. Like I have always done. 2011 is a chess game waiting to either be won or lost. There is no forcing a draw in such circumstances. Forward in offence, so reminiscent of my intuitive play, is where I lay my charges at, but victory against opposition so fierce seems unlikely as such, yet a lost is one filled with dignity. Backtracking in defence lies a win that doesn't exist, one of patience and putting it all in the hands of another, while in defeat brings about memory of the sulking past not so easily forgotten.

The time ticks away, and judgements reach their days of reckoning. There's no room for regrets or withdrawals, there's only one way the entire fiasco can be laid to rest. And that's the way out.