So I was pondering my night through, a couple of nights ago. And scrolling through my archives and all. And what a troubled/troublesome kid I've been.

Somehow, I even feel like apologising to Janet Ong now, how no matter how unreasonable she was, it still took two hands to clap, and not a single finger to snap. I should change shouldnt I? My rebellious attitude to authority, the subconscious stubbornness, or so I blame it. Sigh. I suppose there's always a poignant regret towards stupidity.

And now, I feel so appreciative of everything I have. Maybe its just the message I recieved a few days back. Which helped me appreciate everything around me, every minute matter, every second of beauty. But warm love still slips my human eyes, and I wonder why.

About a week ago, I had a conversation which two of my friends. And this question was asked, `what would you regret most if you die this instant?', and my friend gave this answer, `that I never told my mother I loved her'. And that sorta struck me. I dont know how, but I share his sentiment in a way beyond how I understand. Maybe its just a reason of pride, of which I find myself finding unlikely refuge behind.

If only the world was more limpid, if only we could see the highest heavens, if only the four walls does not seemingly close in onto us at times of troubles. The world seems to have a plethora of troubles, but a lack of salvation. If only the world knew, if only I could stand out and tell the world, if only I could hope that amongst the ground, I am the good soil, if only, like Cher's blog so correctly put, `In a land of giants, we can only hope there's a David.'. If only I could be that `David'..