Cute little macaroons... adorned in such lovely vivid colours- They resemble the rainbow: myriads of hues of shades from the joyous to the depressing. Like two clouds of vibrancy that melts in your mouth and a light and heavenly cream that binds the two together to make the set complete... I see them in most shops as I'm walking down the streets of town and I am always mesmerized by the wonderful display and then the fantasy and imagination sets in.
I feel a waltz in my mouth when my taste buds respond to each different taste. There is no taste to colours but somehow it just adds up and my mind is filled with fascinating dreams of a riot of colours. And yet... ... I've never ever tasted a macaroon in my entire life hitherto... But just by seeing with my own two eyes I already taste it with my mind and with my soul and therefore my tongue...
Do people care about wishes of a distant dream made long ago? The times when we all didn't know any much better about adult life and the harsh reality of this world. There was a time when our dreams and hopes were boundless and filled with infinite possibilities. We didn't know what impossible was and we didn't care about how to get there at all.
I had a dream; you had a dream... and we talked about our dreams under a vast blue sky of the purest of friendships and trust combined. Do we still value such thinking? Or had we grown up and known better already? Yet... is this thinking so distasteful now that we can never be able to swallow it therefore?
But then again... there never will be a heaven without a hell... It is a rite of passage to have tasted honey before we knew what was not so sweet. We had to experience the pains of this life just so that we could feel the ecstasy we needed. The ecstasy like a drug I wished would never fade away; but i know is temporal- fleeting... intangible... within your sight... but never yours...
I see an empty room... and my lifeless bear sits on my bed just smiling at me. The counselling sessions we used to share seem so dumb now... My bear never was, always has been, always will be a lifeless doll with no mind of it's own. So when I talk to you Mr. Bear and tell you all my secrets and tell you all the things that are happening in my life who am I telling to anyways?
What's the point to all this; what's the point to trying to taste the sweetness of life when there is the bitter aftertaste of despair. What's the point of filling each and every single day of your life with empty bonds you know will never last; an emptiness that feeds the eternal void that my heart is so already hemorrhagic from.
So I built my castle from the ground. Brick by brick I slowly solidify these thoughts I harbor. That even as the wall goes higher and higher and the sky suddenly seems smaller and smaller and now darkness glazes my eyes and mind... I lay in my towering fortress asleep. Feeling safe and sound... waiting for the next person to open those walls again~ if there is ever a soul that had that much strength
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