Clarity

Zedd's Clarity is playing on loop in the background and I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic.Or emotional. Maybe it's a mix of both. The lyrics mean so much. Unlike previous posts where I just type out whatever's on my mind, I've gone and read my previous posts before typing up this one, and concerns have indeed changed. Last year it was about the Hallyu Wave, and the post before that was the pains of living with a bright orange Proton Saga. It's been 3 years since that post, and things have indeed progressed, albeit into more confusing territory. I've solved that Saga issue with replacing it with another Satria GTi (I think if there was ever a soul mate in the form of a car, this would be it.) and an E39 5 series. So one's quick, fun, lightweight, and very familiar. The other is a bit bigger, but oh so comfortable, and finally gives me that straight six rear wheel drive configuration that also allows me to hit 235km/h without much of a fuss. I absolutely love the combination of both, although in the back of my mind, I still need another city runabout, and a pick-up for the rough stuff. While this solution has indeed calmed my constant What Car? questioning down for about a year or so, my past year has been focused on something else.

Something more. 

Out of the past eight months or so, the first five has been a ride. Pretty much drunk on most nights, I met so many people (including her,yes.), and I thought this was my answer to the mundane life (hey, I got to meet LMF and watch The Prodigy), and it was all good. It was living the dream.  But it wasn't. Good things don't last forever, nor does stability, and it all came crashing down when I realised that I wasn't moving anywhere. I wasn't progressing. It wasn't viable. I had forgotten that this was meant to be a twisted social experiment with myself at the core, a taster of sorts to see what life could be like on the limit, and whether what I'd worked for could work as I'd imagined. I was hooked. I didn't want to give it up. I didn't want to not see her again. I didn't want to let go.

But I have.

It took me a good two months or so to return to normality. And now that I'm back, I'm not sure I want to be here. I'm not sure this is the place I'd left behind. I'm not sure I can still function the same way I did before. I've seen things, experienced things that I never thought would come together, felt joy, the pain, the blurred line between the life of reality and the party, and let me tell you something; watching that sunrise alone at a McDonalds after a night out: that defines you. It's hard to forget the images. It's hard to forget the music, the emotion stirs every single time I hear a familiar tune. The story's the same everywhere I go, it's like being a part of a club that has disbanded, with everyone headed in different directions. I'm not sure if I will be able to return to this life again soon enough. I'm not sure if, when I'm ready I can top what had come and gone.But if there's one thing I can tell you: 

I will sure as hell try.