Films, and such.

I'll be true,
I'll be useful,
I'll be cavalier
I'll be yours, my dear
And I'll belong to you
If you just let me through..


I have a box at home.

In it, i keep every piece of thing that has any meaning to me. Small, precious gifts. Every meaningful letter i've received. A small note, or just fragments from the past, like a broken pin or a ticket stub. The oldest gift was from 1997, when i was nine. The newest item is from 2008.

The army numbs and estranges me from my past. My job is simple, but repetitive. You can lose yourself, and i'm in danger of doing so, if it hasn't already happened.

Each time when i die a little, i go through it and it never fails to provide the most wonderful feeling.

It reminds me that i'm not alone in this world. I invariably flash back to another time/space, to the period in my life when i received the gift. The past is inevitably glossy. It was always fraught with traps of loneliness and depression. But somehow the human mind never fails to gloss it over with a shiny coat of silver (or maybe green, my favourite colour) and we all remember it for what we want, maybe to provide hope for the present and what's ahead.

I remember friends i've lost. It brings bits of regret, the usual 'maybe we could've kept contact'. I remember happier times, i remember nervous moments spent glancing at my reflection, i remember listening to 'dashboard confessional' and deciding to go with my heart, i remember listening to 'dashboard' again - but this time in a musky classroom, so afraid of being alone with new people.

Maybe i spend too much time looking back.

Thanks for reading and writing.