& I'm still thinking alot about
what we talked about yesterday too

everything about life, not so much of death

Honestly, I'm thankful I've got a friend whom I can talk to about all these stuff. Lately, I've been thinking about (read post below) my religion. I've talked to two friends about it this week, one who thinks the same way I do and the other who used to but not anymore.

Topic slightly sensitive so I won't be saying much at all?

I don't understand why others can believe while I've been questioning ever since I was in Secondary 3. I tried going back to church with my mom or with my friends again and again, but I'll always end up not going.

Basically, I don't want to see it as a place to seek solace cause it feels wrong. It shouldn't be because I want to go to heaven, therefore I go to church. Maybe I just can't seem to find out the other reasons.

Life's only about what's in the middle isn't it? (well not necessarily shit, of course) Does it matter what happens after that?

Does knowing where we can go after we die matter so much? I see death as.. well just a dead body without feelings and emotions. That's all there is to me.

I stumbled upon this site which writes about some ideas I agree to. In it, I found a quotation pretty meaningful by philosopher Raymond Bradley:

“ . . . my answer to the question ‘What is the meaning of life?’ is akin to the answer I would give to the question ‘What is the meaning of such and such a book?’ The meaning of a book is to be found in the words, the sentences, the paragraphs, and the chapters it contains. Likewise, the meaning of life is to be found in the meaningful moments, episodes, and achievements that occur within our brief appearance here on earth. A book doesn't lack meaning because it comes to an end on the last page. Nor do our lives lack meaning because they come to an end when all neural activity ceases.”

Speaking of an end to life, I don't fear death. I fear the process of death and the complicated matters of emotional ties and such. I fear the death of my loved ones, but not my own.




Its a little strange how I can't put the rest of my thoughts into words. There's too much to say, and one thought leads to another. I'll let them "spice up" my long busrides for now and save this space for the troubled or greatly inspiring ones that come from within.

Art hasn't been productive at all today, not the past two weeks too, in fact. The clouds haven't been treating me well (or I haven't been treating them well), and I'm off to the books now. The first time I'm actually flipping a book open this holidays.

I'm actually extremely worried for the A'levels, coursework and schoolwork alike. I don't seem to be going anywhere at all.

I'd still like to say thanks to the few for making time spent in the art room so enjoyable. Won't we miss those outbursts of laughter, insults and all things nonsensical after everything is over? :)