Speak, Memories

Suddenly felt an urge to write.
It's more of inspiration actually.
Tonight was the 1st night i actually got down,
To some serious thinking about my tutorial question.
So i'm feeling accomplished on top of other euphoria-s.
I cant help but admit that 'Contented' is the word to describe me nowadays.
I look at things differently,
Not rose-tinted,
But with a discerning eye,
And an attitude of 'I'm-so-satisfied-with-my-life-currently-and-I-cant-be-bothered-about-wat-you-think-of-me' to match.
Of coz i do fret and worry about the readings that i need to catch up on,
But that's a purely academic concern.
My physical health is in pretty good shape,
Though i'm still as skinny,
But i can run fast.
Yah, like it's a redeeming factor....
Anyway, emotional and mental health are bursting right now.
I cant ask for more.
It's like having an ice-cream on a hot hot day,
Like buying that *whatever* i've been eyeing for ages,
Like being treated like a prince(ss) on an ordinary day.
You dont feel like wanting anything else,
Or anything more for that matter,
Just to be left alone,
To savour that delectable delirium,
That leaves every word, every sight, every sound, every smell,
Weightless.
Yet memories arent so weightless.
They arent so intangible.
A sigh i heaved,
For all those i left behind,
For this serenity of the mind and soul.
An empty look into the darkness of the night,
I give,
And i exhaled.
I exhaled all those memories that had resided in the far recesses,
The abyss where they dont deserve to be exiled to.
I had merely forgotten,
Albeit for a while.
We cant remember all the time,
Can we?
They seemed surreal.
Are they real?
I cant seem to recapture all the emotions connected to these memories.
I cant seem to re-enact them in my mind.
Jerky, insipid, loose images.
No words nor sounds nor emotions.
Against the crimson-ness of my inner eyelids,
I cant master them anymore,
For they do not heed my call nor appeal.
I seemed to have lost a part of my Past.
An important segment that made me who i am today.
Is contentment built on past anguish?
Probably not.
Is my contentment built on my past anguish?
Perhaps.
How else would i appreciate what i hold today?
Have i lost touch with people?
People who meant something to me at a given space and time.
Have i forsaken them?
Maybe i have.
Forgive me dear friends,
For i have been caught up in a moment,
A moment i never dared dream of,
Where i wish to be suspended, alone,
In my little web of smiles and intimacy.
Those memories i speak of,
Yet refused to speak to me,
They werent lost nor exiled,
Merely locked up,
In the many figments and compartments,
Where memories so often sojourn,
In wait of a revival.