L is not always for "love", if seldom. They ask me if L is for "lies", "lost", "lonely", or "lust". Lust? I wish! The rest take turn to happen as daubs on a canvas called life.
I am still silently passionate about certain things, which keeps me alive. Yet not long ago I realized being alive was far from being lively. I bumped into a long-lost friend named Lost, and he gave me a middle name - Procrastination.
A friend says this feeling is something like a mid-career (?!) crisis which actively hits many a person who is hanging around in his late 20s (again, ?!). I don't know how much of this is true, but I know that when we reach a point on the hillside and have a realistic two-hundred-degree view of the world around us, we are uncertain about whether we should continue the trek to the very top so as to get a full view.
I am no longer interested in staying in put in one place for ever, and yet life sucks without any sense of belonging. I am numb surrounded by those who are so close yet so strange; at the same time, I dislike taking a stroll with myself everyday, memorizing each stone under my feet. There must be something out there, something more than just people getting together or strictly being with yourself.
I've been longing for a macro lens. Some say I'd flood Flickr with silly close-ups, others say a macro lens isn't what I need as ultimately it's my viewfinder that counts.
Perhaps another hillside might give a new view.
Perhaps I just need to turn on a faucet and splash my face, as perhaps water will wash something away.
