Book of life

It has been hard these days to put my thoughts into words. Sliding my fingers on the keyboard has become a natural movement when it comes to chatting online with friends, but when it comes to expressing my thoughts, hesitation always appears and leads me into nothingness. An empty page leads to an empty page, and brain full of thoughts becomes thin air when tried to print into words. Everytime i start to write, the words that come out ever so difficult from my jumbled mind will always be erased off in the end, when it just so suddenly turned meaningless. Even as i am typing my thoughts now, every second i doubt whether this will last, wondering whether my hand would just trigger a simple button and be rid of everything. Unpredictable eventhough it is of part of my own body, an organ in which i could control so well, yet fail to keep hold of it many times.

If you think about it, our lives is also in a very similiar dimension. We were born and brought up to be a man or woman. We tackle life and meet lots of experiences and people. We began to write down our stories in each of our very own blank piece of white paper. From the very little issue that hurts us so bad, to the biggest problems that really crushed us into paper balls. From the very 1st day we meet the friendliest people in our lives, till the day we find ourselves holding such grudge on certain souls that we dispised so much of. Our successes, failures, loves, interests, fellowships, friendships, possesions, all these were put down into the blank piece of book, a book in which we call it LIFE.

Then one day, we will begin to look back into the pages of our lives, and begin to see and realise the ugly moments of our lives in which we hoped that it never had occured. We then begin to take an eraser, ink remover, liquid paper, and by all means try to get rid of the black print in which will not disappear, only leaving us to sigh in vain. Regreting the past actions, we then vow not to ever get involve in that particular activity anymore, but being imperfect, we some how end up doing the same thing and going through the same pain we went through before. Then we decide not to record them, and to just leave the page of ugly moments blank, thinking that we are smart enough to evade the pain. But some how or the other, the pen moves by itself, and memories are yet again written down no matter how much we hate it.

We try tearing it, we try burning it, we try dumping it somewhere far far away, but nothing's changed. Every page we tear, will not split. Every piece we burn, will not flame. Every paper we throw, will be blown back by an invisible wind. As frustrating as it can be, we are helpless, and not to mention, hopeless.

Such is life? Yes, but such is not the end of life. Some where along the line, we will meet someone in which would come into our lives and change us for the better; giving us hope and light. He will come and recieve us into His own hands and begin to write our stories for us, helping us day by day to forget the past words that were written in our lives. The dreading book of life of our own will ofcourse still be there, but He will come and give us a new book, a new beginning, a new hope. This new book of life is the book of eternal life, a life in which is given to us for eternity, a life with hope to live forever and ever. And with this new book of life, the past is past, not that it does not affect our lives anymore, but it has become meaningless by itself.

I have had my own book of life, a book where all the pages are filled with my happy and ugly moments, but now, i have obtained a new book of life. Stories written in it may still be the same, but what is different is that this book is no longer based on me,i and myself, but this book is centered around the very one who gave it all to me-The Almighty God.=)