It's funny. At 3 in the morning when I'm just about to sleep I have plenty of thoughts which seem to me to be brilliant fodder for this blog, but 12 hours later when I sit down to write aforementioned thoughts, they all seemed to have eluded me.
Like butterflies escaped from a net.
Thoughts, sleep-slurred thoughts, come back to me! You look so beautiful in the mist, whispering of hidden potential. A gleam in the twilight corners of my frontal lobe. Though it's possible that if I caught you again and carefully inspected you under a microscope, you would turn out to be so dull, your colours faded, your wings flapping wearily as you consider the troublesome work of sludging through another careworn miserably boring day. Dust and pollution cover your fine wings, your six legs trembling with exhaustion and fear.
That's the problem with lost ideas and thoughts. They always seem grander when they're gone.
Is it the same with our forgotten relationships, then? When we look back, in our distorted memories the chasms were bigger and more menacing, the good times were sweeter but ultimately doomed, the joy laced with pain and bitterness now that we knew what was to come.
This is not a productive train of thought. Blame it on the foul heat that characterises Ipoh weather nowadays.
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