Words of Innocence and Experience

It’s Saturday today, but it is cloudy, as if the sky is mourning for Jiajia. Yes, she was gone a couple of days ago. After days of struggling, she chose to go gentle into the good night. However, perhaps it is also a kind of relief from the torment and chaos in life. I may come up with a poem dedicated to her recently. After all, my composing talent is a good seam for me to mine.
I’m really sorry that she has to leave… Ah…

I’m typing this entry in my boss’ absence. Well, things are just the same way every day. Thursday is not so monotonous since I went to my high-school classmate reunion. Teresa, Vivien, and Vivian were not able to go, so I found myself somewhat out of place there. Generally everything was fine, and I talked with some classmates whom I was acquainted with. Amazingly, everyone has become prettier, and it satisfied my vanity when they told me that I looked better than before. The trip was sort of tiring as I had ridden my bike back home from the office and switched several busses until arriving at the restaurant where the reunion was held. Then I traveled back to my office in the same troubling way, and incredibly, I made it on time.

“It was many years ago that I became what I am.
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb”
- Sting “Moon over Bourbon Street”

With my every birthday passing by, I gradually come to realize that life is truly a kind of “alienation,” as Karl Marx claimed. I am forced to do things I totally resent or disagree with but I must pretend that I am enjoying the process. This true phenomenon results in modern people’s psychological problems, and only those who possess strong determination can escape from the invasion of breaking down. Luckily, I am emotionally strong, but unfortunately, everyone thinks that I am able to deal with everything so that nobody offers me a helping hand.

“On and on the rain will fall like tears from the stars
On and on the rain will say how fragile we are…”
–Sting “Fragile”

How frightening that this shall happen to people around me…
I really need to write a poem for her, my friend… Farewell!
Dylan Thomas urged his sick father not go gentle into that good night… But if surrendering to peace shall ease your pain, then I won’t block your way and force you to stay…

A young flower just got ready to bloom. And even though it falls before mellowing, the youthful spirit will always remain…

Need time to clarify my chaotic thoughts. I will write an elegy for you, really.