记事本

翻开随身携带的记事本
写着许多事都是关于你
你讨厌被冷落 习惯被守候
寂寞才找我 我看见自己写下的心情
把自己放在卑微的后头
等你等太久 想你泪会流 而幸福快乐是什么
爱的痛了 痛的哭了 哭的累了
日记本里页页执着记载着你的好
像上瘾的毒药 它反覆骗着我
爱的痛了 痛的哭了 哭的累了
矛盾心里总是强求
劝自己要放手 闭上眼让你走
烧掉日记重新来过

So there--some two-and-a-half years of riding the bizarre rollercoaster has come to an end, the car finally gliding to a gentle halt at the bottom of the slope.

Even the skies and the heavens today agreed with me.

The end of this long-drawn episode has been inevitable--it's been more a question of when it will stop, rather than whether it will stop, or, whether a miracle would have happened to render all the waiting and hoping fruitful at long last, the rollercoaster car flying off the track and taking off into space and going into orbit around the earth past cloud number nine.

After all, happiness follows only when you stop searching for it, as the saying goes (and as an old friend of mine told me last night as we chatted into the wee hours of the morning)--and such senseless waiting after there have been so many signs in your face to tell you that it's all pointless already, no matter all the signs of reckoning that there were earlier, is just as the name goes, senseless.

At least it hasn't been a tumultous rumble and an enormous lurch of the tracks under me that has thrown me out of the car to meet the ground and reality at a high velocity with immense impact and injury--it's been a slow, gentle descent, the wind blowing gently in my hair, caressing my cheeks gently, lightly painting a faint, pink glow of health in them, the entire ride enjoyable, even on the downward descent as I rode out of the rollercoaster, even though I already had a hunch that it was inevitable that the ride would come to an end, even though on the outside and in my more-conscious day-to-day thoughts I'd already known that the ride had come to an end, or that it was ending soon, and would eventually end.

It's just like the way the weather's been today, the way the sun had set on the day to give way to the inevitable night--the way the sun continued to paint the skies in golden rays despite the rainclouds that hung ominously about in scattered parts of the sky, and the skies turned quietly, gently, from the blue and white of day, to the orange hues of the evening as the sun set; and as the sun sank below the horizon, the blue turned slowly, gradually, subtly, darker, and darker, as the last rays of light from the sun that'd already set painted the edge of the horizon soft, pastel shades of orange, and then salmon pink, as the blue slowly faded away into darkness.

Even in the last minutes of day, the beauty of the skies persisted through the sun's rays; even after the sun had sank below the horizon, the remnants of the sun's energy and warmth glowing in the skies of dusk.

Even though nothing's ever started, it's been beautiful all the same, being in it all while not being in it; after all, there is beauty in ambiguity, isn't it? But ambiguity is tiring, and the time has come for it to end, so that I can pick myself up, close a beautiful chapter, and start a new one.

I hope I will have the strength to walk on, and not look back. It won't be easy, but I'll try.