my own imagination is failing me. it used to be my way of escape when reality hit hard and life got tough. but now, even trying to escape is so difficult. i realised i've become jaded and cynical and increasingly dissatisfied with my life. too many "if onlys" and "what ifs" have crossed my mind. i find that i've made so many wrong choices and once again find myself asking "what could've been". wo zhe me cai ke yi zhao dao yi qian de wo. or would covering up the complaints and self-reflection actually help to overcome this weird phase? life should be like what charlotte bronte discribes it to be.
LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall ?
Rapidly, merrily,
Life's sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily,
Enjoy them as they fly !
What though Death at times steps in
And calls our Best away ?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O'er hope, a heavy sway ?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair!
scribbled down in typed letters11:49 PM
