Bonjour ! Meow means Woof in Cat
some stuff ~ Four legs good. Two legs badThe Ghost Inside
The boy followed her as she turned her back againts him, his
eyes was telling her that he was longing for her. She knows, but what he doesn't know, is that
her desire to touch, to monopolize him, but her loneliness is what's making her
stuck, dragging her back, keeping her lonely fingers only to herself. She wants to tell him about her feelings, but
she just cant do it, For all she can do is just stares at him, searching for
his very little soul. She realizes how he is still the same boy she once knew, timid,
quirky, a glass. The boy was quietly watching her, braced himself for what’s
coming from her lips, but the only thing that came from it was exactly what
hurts the most, both for her and for the boy. Scared, afraid, happy, hopeful,
that was how they felt, but they keep staring, until the time grows near, with
nobody saying a word to each other. She wanted
to to talk in a way that will not hurt him, but she knows, that the moment she
opened her lips, what’s coming out is not what she wants it to be, its
piercing, stabbing, torturing, a massacre. She was hopeful, wishing that she
could convey her feelings before the sky even gets any darker than it already
was. And the moment she actually manage to gather up her courage, the time,
bringing her back to reality. She told him to go first, but both of them are
reluctant to leave, the girl decided to leave first, the feeling of someone she
loved, watching her back. The boy just sits there, watching her walks further
away from him, with feelings that he knew, she would never understand. He began
to stand, his eyes still clinging onto her, she turned her back, waving a
goodbye, he waved back at her, smiling. The boy was tired, exhausted,physically
and mentally drained. She knows, for she
had already planned to free him of that feeling. She knows, loving her was
something that would torture him,
and her loneliness, the monster inside, told her to end that feeling in the
name of love, she sacrifice both herself
and the boy, the loneliness, making her think that nobody ever actually starts
to fall in love with her. She wants the boy to be happy, but she decided to
kill both her and the boy anyway. All of it, in the name of love. The
loneliness, the darkness inside, the monster, dragging her deeper. It was
supposed to be a happy ending.
Labels: On Love 0 comment[s] | back to topThe love letter
 I must undertake to love myself as though my very life depends upon self-love and self-respect -June Jordan
"Go write yourself a love letter," that's what I was saying to my friend last night, but that felt more like I said it to myself.
I sat on the wooden chair, I had a two-hours class for reading, I didn't pay much attention to it, and I felt bombarded by my own thoughts, I sighed and I put down my pen and I looked at my phone.
Only thirty more minutes of Boredom. Once home, I reached for my laptop and checked out my e-mails and thought: Wouldn't it be great if one of these e-mails held a real love letter, from an inconsolable former almost lover, a secret admirer or the one who never was?
The mail would be full of passions, pleadings, and promises, but there was no piece of e-mail that mention anything about what I was thinking. A senior assured me that the party would be fun, an acquaintance swore if I would "join the club", I would change my life, a friend promised I could turn over a new leaf if I would just change myself a bit.
The more I thought about it, the more enticing a love letter seemed. I shut off my laptop and I lay on my bed and had a thought: my friend might fax me a loving quotes, e-mail me a fond memo or leave me a
So I decided to write one for myself. First, I put on some Eric Clapton and Brian McKnight music, grabbed my only kitten for motivation, and said to myself : "close your eyes and see yourself as the most glorious person in the world. Now open your eyes and write". Already I had constantly went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and assured myself that I was beautiful. I tried not to notice that pimple lurking on my cheeks nor my panda eyes. I tried to remember the things I loved about myself. I felt as if I were wearing high heels I could barely walk in.
"Say whatever comes out," I encouraged myself and started to write
"Dear, I admire the way you care about other people. I know how hard you try and how much you worry about being good enough. Dear, I knew that you are a good person."I read the letter and frowned. It's so brief. Then I tried to remember something and asked myself a question, "what did we used to talk about?". I remember that I used to talk about cats with my friends, so I wrote: "Dear, You're better than any cat, you have such aNow I knew why the bookstores sold a lot of collections about the world's great love letters. If they were all this difficult to write, there couldn't be very many of them. I got up and sat on my bed, filled with "Dear, you have a weird sense of humor and I like that about you, you often get lost but I know you can find your way back, I am happy that you finally accepted yourself as who you are now, I love you as you are and you are about as cute, smart, creative and happy as you are going to be. Enjoy every moment, you fractious creature. Love, Me."Ahh, this was more romantic, I felt a flutter of excitement as I re-read the letter, I felt glamorous and wanted. and of course, I knew the day would come, it might be even tomorrow, when everything goes wrong and when I couldn't think what was right in my life. Then I would reach for my laptop and Labels: On Love 0 comment[s] | back to top |
