I did once try to take him back, but I fail. My new-self too strong, bonded with everything around me, my friends, my emotion, my evolution. While the old, was too weak, fragile, and obedient, slaved by the time of maturity. Its kill him, hurting him, forcing him to be "other".
Who is this actually him? Why did I care too much? Past is just a past, shadow of present.
He is pure plain white paper, a personalities shaped with kind and truth. Neither sinister and rebellious act exist. Coloured with crayon and colour pencil. Not with water colour, printer ink or colour spray. On it, the most ugly drawing of bird you have seen, with false blend of colour; too good to be lough at and yet its pure and sincere. The drawing is the view of life in his perspective, on which everything is kind and sincere. But when he meet others, being sad, being hurt; so the colour changed, the style became complex; and that the time he relize that, he have to die for other to born. So the new he buried the old one.
Time is a cure and a killer. This "he" is my past. He must be remembered because he the window to the past; like an old picture that resembling memoir of the past.
[Like the bird on the drawing. It is ugly trash drawing. But it is bird, a symbol of heaven, because Angel got wings]
To the old-self, please rest in peace. Let me carry the burden so that you wont be tainted. Please remain pure, because you are relic of the past.
Upon your grave, I will build the future, even I have to colour all black. I wont let your sacrifice for nothing. Please pray for my luck, O my past.
Akmal Mahazar, 2011
