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“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

- Neil Gaiman

Current Mood: disappointed

If this was a sign from you, God, thank you.

I am finally free. Or at least, on the way there. I have a reason to now.

Something happened tonight that is finally going to help me let go and move on; to let go of this heartache that's been keeping me prison for so long. I finally have a reason to turn around and walk away.

I thought we would be together - everything was pointing in direction; so many signs. Maybe I was just trying to find illogical evidence anywhere and everywhere that I could to prove that we could and would be together, but now, I know. It was just a dream. False hope. It was something that I knew I should have never begun to hope for beyond what we are now - friendship.

I am in love with you. I wish I could stop it; stop the unbearable heartache, the haunting dreams, the innocent flirtations, everything. I need it to stop so that I can live, so that I can breathe again. I am drowning in this dream.

Thanks, God. I finally have my sign.

Current Mood: crushed

I think that unlike, many people my age, I know who I am.

I may not know what I am meant to be or who I may become, but I know myself.

I know my likes, dislikes, loves, hates, fears, pet peeves, reasons why I act/think, etc. I know who I am.

Of course, this could all change since we are a progressive species, but nevertheless, I can define myself.

( Read more... )

Current Mood: pensive

I am a self-introvert. My secrets are my own business and no one else's. I may be feisty, stubborn, and a tad psychotic, but I am also very opinionated when it doesn't involve me. But then, there are some things where you just need to rant and rave and that's what I do. Because of my introverted personality, I have a tendency to blow up ... Eventually.

( Read more... )

Current Mood: frustrated

I just need to rant. Relieve myself of this frustration and irritating and exasperation at the opposite sex - anyone with a freaking weiner between their legs.

When they say "love is blind," they definitely weren't kidding. And I definitely do not mean what Shakespeare intended it to mean. What I mean is how stupid (or oblivious) can one possibly get? Does a person need a freaking neon sign to point out the painfully obvious? Seriously. It's ridiculous how positively idiotic boys can be. Apart from just shouting out "I am in love with you.", I got nothing.

Freaking. Got. Nothing.

( Read more... )

Current Mood: numb

For some reason, I am writing in this journal. I have an LJ that is ages old, but I can't seem to find the will (or something) to write in it. It's messy and old and overused. Dreamwidth seems to be the new frontier. A brand new start. Something fresh.

I am not an artist. I truly wish I were, but I'm not. But, I appreciate its glory and beauty and overall meaningful presence in the world. I suppose I could be artistic in some aspects, but definitely not good enough to be a full-fledged artist. Pretty sure that Picasso would not count my doodles on worn-out history notes as art. Maybe it's my kind of art, but really not the kind of inspirational art that awes.

Writing. If I had to pick an art form I am best at, it would be writing. Words are my best work. I cannot express them as well verbally (courtesy of a bad case of stage fright), but I can write well. Maybe not when it comes to woefully-boring psychology essays or philosophy papers, but if I have a passion for it - my words will bloom beautifully.

( To be continued... )

Current Mood: contemplative

Poofing in here just to say that I have put use into my darling Dreamwidth. Now, no one can say I haven't! I don't really know what to do with it as I am a terrible blogger - it is just too much of a commitment to update daily. It's pathetic, I know. But I've customized it to the best of my interest/free time and will now take my leave.

Perhaps I will come back next year and post something again.

Har, har - in my dreams. :)

and she lived happily ever after.

Recent Entries

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Heartbreak.

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The Art of (Unintentional) Seduction

"Love is blind."

Art.

Ahoy!

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