; white night fantasy

Tonight's cold, and the familiar darkness decends with not one single bit of the customary comfort in solitude, but instead, a melancholic loneliness that seems a perpetual part of me these days.

Stinging.

Couple of days before, I accompanied my mother, cousin and youngest brother to the temple. I'm unsure what would be a concise explanation of it all without coming off as a superstitious nutcase, but back to the basics: it's a taoist sect and we're part of it. I've been, ever since undergoing a series of rites and rituals at the tender age of 7. It's been a good ten years.

There was a.. I don't know. I'm not supposed to talk about it, but apparently, with faith, devotion and constant practice, a mild form of possesion can be cultivated, one would be able to execute a series of strokes never learnt before, an inexplicable force? that swoops onto the body and wham, bam, alakazam, there goes a girl performing what appears a graceful combination of dance and fairy-like martial arts, not unlike those you see in period dramas.

And of course, me being me, I was skeptical but it was hard to be dubious when witnessed with your very eyes. I knew the girl when I was a kid, it's been years but she was a reserved, gentle creature. I think she still is. And to see her moving with such confidence, and poise that was so unlike her placid retiring nature, it wasn't difficult to believe in a paranormal, even celestial presence guiding her, bit by bit.

I'm still doubtful, naturally, but since young I've been instilled with the decency to potray sensitivity even in disbelief, to issues of personal faith and choices. So I answered my mother, cousin and friends who clearly believe, with polite smiles and nods. But what I really wanted to retort, but for hurting my mother, was "Why should I believe in a God who allows terrible things to happen to me?"

I know I shouldn't begrudge any higher power, by His Grace I've been blessed with health, four limbs and the basic necessities one can easily live on. Younger years, my friends used to tease me even, for being born with a golden spoon in the mouth. But.. meant to live, I want to live for so much more.

Am I plain ungrateful, simply greedy and discontented?

I don't know. I can't honestly say that life has dealt me a cruel hand, but what if you compare yourself not with the starving orphans or sufferers of child labour in third world countries, but wealthy socialities such as Paris Hilton who squanders stacks upon stacks of notes, no I should say, credit cards frivolously?