To breathe.

I don't want to know

I don't want to know.
I don't want to know how happy you are,
I don't want to know how you are over me,
I don't want to know about your new girlfriend,
I don't want to know how much you love her,
I don't want to know how beautiful she is,
I don't want to know how amazing she is,
I don't want to know how you want to spend your life with her.
I don't want to know because I don't want to care.

So don't tell me all those things about her because when you do it makes me hurt inside knowing that the girl you are telling me about used to be me. I used to be the one you loved, the one you found beautiful, the one you found amazing and the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with,  It hurts me to know that once I used to want to know everything you thought about me. Now I don't want to know.
I don't want to know anything because I don't want to care anymore.
Even though I still do care.

Just a little.

Does it?

My smile is perfectly calculated, my handshake perfectly firm, my voice perfectly level.

I don't know how to smile.

I don't like shaking hands.

I don't like speaking to strangers.

But what I like doesn't matter anymore 

does it?

WOAAHHH.

 http://damncoolpics.blogspot.com/2010/07/cosplay-girls-before-and-after.html

I'm quite stunned. Hmm.

I feel better about myself.

xD

INfatuation and love

True dat.

notinvolved

And then there are those times

when you refuse to tell me anything

I may not say much when you told me you don't want to tell me

that you don't want me hurt and involved

that you say you think I'm better off not knowing

but it breaks my heart a little

that you don't trust me enough

to know your problems.

I feel kind of sad.

HAHAHAHA

Tears Fall...

The light dies in her eyes;

She cries with silent tears, slowly moving down familiar paths, falling like the raindrops of spring's end. Her face is a mask of a smile, but her glittering orbs for eyes are as empty as the hole in her brittle chest.
She wants to give him her heart, for he has earned every single broken, jagged, blackened piece of it, but the box where the heart lies still belongs to him. It has belonged to him for far too long.

He believes her heart is whole, pure and belongs to him. She wants it to belong to him, for she knows that he will treasure it. But how can she get her heart back and give it to him, when she knows can't get it back from him nor does she really want to?

Unfinished words, and hanging silences kill her, drown her in their never ending wave. She cannot remember passing days but she can remember his voice whispering sweet promises in her ear, holding her in his arms and telling her that she was his world and everything (even if it was a lie).

She wants to forget.
She wants to forget and fill her heart with only thoughts of him.
Time may be the greatest healer but her pain, her sickness, her memories cannot be healed by time.
The answer is so far out of reach, but maybe she will wait a little longer.

Just a little longer.
Tell me you love me one last time?

It's a new dream

 "You came into my life and I thought 'hey'..."

First meeting, first chances, first time I looked into your eyes I couldn't help but be drawn into their dark, captivating abyss. Brown eyes have never appealed to me more than that moment. It was all so simple; a skip, a hop, a step and soon I found my fingers curled around yours.

I'm like a rose, delicate-looking yet those silken petals and innocence could only be there to conceal the deadly thorns of my past and my present, just waiting to prick your skin. My life is written in pen, i can cross out the pass but I can't erase it and tippexing it out just ends up messy.

If you pluck me, and hold me close to your heart, I will do everything I can to hide the thorns from you, just so you can keep believing in the simplicity and innocence that I show to everyone.

But baby, you're not just everyone.

I don't remember days spent with you,

I remember moments spent with you.

Moments like the time when you casually put your arm around me and my heart danced in rhythm to it's own erratic beat and moments like us tickling, laughing and toying with fingers so sneakily under tables. (So innocent, so painfully and beautifully slow, so amazing.)

I'm still in a daze because it's happened so fast, but it still makes me happy that you've noticed the way I looked at you, the subtle bumps here and there, did you hear my heart beat? and I won't ever regret it the way I did before.

You are different

and different feels good to me

<3

"... you know, this could be something."

Dear Mum Dad

Dear Mum and Dad,

I guess it's okay for you to call me a failure, to say that i've never tried hard enough and to say that i'm never good enough for either of you.

Because you're my parents, and bringing me down is your job.

Yet I can't hate you, and it hurts when you never catch the times when I try to show my love.

I guess love is truly blind.

Love,

Your daughter who always tries her best for you.

100th post!

I am so fackin' honored 8D On to sentimental stuff.

I hope
You never blame yourself for being so far away

I know
You DO blame yourself for not being here with me

I wish
that you'd not take the blame yourself

I understand
that you're over there for studies only


After all, the only one to blame was me.
I was the one who accepted and wanted this relationship (despite you asking me).
I was the one who said, "I'll wait, no matter how long." (even though its you waiting to come home)
I was the stupid one who never jumped at opportunities when it was presented to me (though you might not have that much of feelings for me then)

Don't be upset just because I'm unhappy over life's problems and you can't give me a hug.
Plenty of hugs to come in November :)
I miss you too, silly.

Happiness

I love the simplest things

like smiling, walking in the rain and sleeping

but I never knew how much i loved it

when I smiled with you,

walked in the rain with you, 

and slept in your arms.

Such simple happiness makes me glad to be alive.

Hai!

random sketches of phail 

just thought i'd throw something here

x

Depressiing

Picture this.

College has been fun, you're enjoying the lectures and class work, but assignments pile in like crazy. One assignment alone, or one project alone, can take up to 4-5 hours at a time, maybe more, if you've made mistakes (because you have to start over. Our projects aren't simple; you don't get to fix it as you go sometimes). Everyday, you're overloaded with more and MORE assignments than you can take.

You come home from college at 5 o'clock everyday, and due to the little time you have left (and the fact that your assignments are due the next day, ALWAYS) you immediately get started on your assignments. You neglect your bath even though you feel uncomfortable and probably stink, you can't even eat because the assignments drain the appetite out of you. Heck, you don't even go to the toilet immediately unless you really can't take it anymore.

As much as you plan ahead to get the assignments done a day or two before, it still has the capability of having you spend time on it up till 2-3 am, later, even.

You're told that 'every assignment is worth your total GPA score'. Missing a single one would mean 10% off your total mark.

So, being the kid who wants to prove herself to be worthy of having spent RM7000+ on 1 semester's worth of fees, you work hard at those assignments. Screw sleep and comfort, the assignments and self progression are more important.

You've always been grateful to your parents for allowing you to enjoy this particular course. Its not a course that's approved by the older members of your family (namely; your grandmother), many others look down on this course, saying its for stupid kids or carefree people who have nothing better to do in life. I mean, being a doctor/accountant/engineer is the best, no? And Mass Comm people earn WAY more than Art people, right? And yet your parents allow you to take this particular course after much debate. You thought that they fully support you in your decision.

But everyday, they snap at you to go to sleep early, forget the assignments and finish them up by the next morning. You've sometimes complied to this request of theirs, but finishing that figure sketch 6am in the living room and 7am-9am in the college lobby isn't the best way to do your assignments. NOT especially when you slept at 2-3am.

So imagine, when you've just came back from a particularly tiring day from college, and immediately got started on your final project. Yes, the clothes that were hung up the day before are dry, but there is no particular rush to take them down yet. The clothes in the basket isn't chucked into the washing machine yet, and your sister is supposed to fold the clothes in the hall since she had nothing better to do than watch Glee.

Your mother storms in and explodes in your face that 1, your assignments are SO not important compared to completing housework. 2, I'd better get folding at the clothes as soon as possible. You, being exasperated and needing all the time you have to complete the assignment so that there is no reason to sleep late, says that you "don't know what to do anymore," and that you "need to get back to my assignments tqvm." Then your mom is pissed, and rants more and more about kids nowadays with horrible attitudes and no gratitude and does not think of the house as their own.

Your dad storms into the kitchen next after that horrible episode and angrily (AND loudly) mutters that he'd like to see who does any housework after both he and your mom dies. Knowing its not your fault you have so many assignments (I mean, you don't even BLAME anyone for having so many assignments. You know very well its for your own goddamn good) you tear up angrily, and continues doing the assignments. Your mom sees the tears that are not yet shed, and goes on about how you are not a child anymore and crying will do you no good and hello? Please get to folding the goddamn clothes as your assignment and PRESENTATION are not as important.

So at this point. Tell me, does this not sound ridiculous?

Anyway, you ignore, crying all the way for this sort of STUPID misunderstanding and not being able to stop the tears cause you've always been a big crybaby anyway, finished your project at approximately 2:30am. Oh, great, you think. Theres still that dumb Incognito review. Your head hurts, you've just fallen sick AGAIN, you feel depressed due to your parent's explosion and you can't stay awake, let alone have an opinion on the stupid show.

You then give up, check your temperature cause all these while you felt sick and feverish and really cold and THEN realize you really do have a fever. You tell yourself, 'Fuck this shit, I guess I'll lose that 10% after all. And for History of Art and Design, no less. Sorry Anderson. I know you won't understand nor give a shit. But I tried. I really did.'


And that is how you lose 10% in HAD, feel depressed for an entire day (and then find out your best friend in your still vaguely new class is transferring to a Degree course and the funniest person in class might stop attending college due to PTPTN rejection because of the stupid SRA/Student Registration and Administration Department) and do not feel like coming home at all.

FML. I can't wait for next week. A week's worth of holidays. And I can't wait for the next NEXT week, because HE is coming down. Karma, God (if you do exist after all), spirits and whatnot, please give me patience.

PS: I really love my parents. I really do. I help out on Saturdays whenever I can, I listen to them and do not end up like those drunk teenage girls wasted in bars and lost their virginities and whatever not. I stick to their curfew, I pay attention and listen to their advice, and I give them massages whenever I feel they need it. They're the most open minded parents in the world to me. My mom is fun and helpful, my dad is patient and forgiving.

But that was a low blow. Was it really necessary to say that? That my assignments and presentation work are not important? Think, does it really make sense to a college student who works as hard as she could so she could get a good GPA to earn that scholarship for her future degree? Every assignment and presentation counts.

You look at me...

...and then the sunset sets your smile on fire.

["Close your eyes and drift by my side,

and watch the butterflies flutter by.

Trace the stars with your gentle eyes,

and comfort my heart with sweet sighs."]

Each throb of the heart creates a symphony of notes, each note ringing with a thousand promises. Promises of nights spent sprawled out on breezy hills, making grass angels as though the world was a monochrome and we were the only ones in rainbow. In our own little world-myworld,yourworld-the fireflies dance across the sky and the melody of their humming wings could be the theme song for tonight.

Because tonight, is our night.

And the stars sparkle for you (although you're a nebula all on your own) and each wish upon a star "i wish you would look at me the way you look at her" would be falling, leaving streaks across the golden sky. As the sky lights up in fire and the scarlet clouds fan over my crumbling souls you pick me up piece by piece and fix me together with the touch of your lips.

Lips on lips you trace every curve of my body and mend the pieces of my shattered soul--and i feel alive again, "i can hear my heartbeat" And the synchronized beating of our hearts, invites the paradise of shadow and light that fills my sky into an ocean of joy. The warmth of your skin on mine soothes the slicing winds and jagged ice, and the wounds and blood flowing like hungry streams remind me why i'm still alive. And your gentle eyes, those gentle eyes, i drown happily in their lullaby...

...and the butterflies flutter by.

Then everything stops and I wake up with tears in my eyes as I go back into the cold, dark walls of reality's prison where butterflies can't fly anymore.

--because you're not here to put me back together.

I can't stop staring...

...and then you look at me with those beautiful eyes.

I know that i told you it was over. I know I said that i'd never (probably never, but then again never is a long time and i can't live that long) take you back. I know that I said that I wouldn't care about you anymore.
...But it's hard.

It's heart-wrenchingly hard to believe in anything i've said anymore. I don't know why you still dominate such a big part of my heart. It's painful to think about it--it hurts. My head hurts, my body hurts, my heart hurts, i'm breaking apart right in front of your eyes and you still can't see me...

--

And everything is a blur.

I stare at you with my vision all running colors and shaky images and struggle to capture those fleeting moments of you that are crystal clear. Thoughts and memories and things left unsaid surge with every minute detail of you I drink in.

It's fuckin' mental torture.

And when I've realized I'm wrong, when everything I accused you for may have just been a goddamn stupid mistake on my part itself, it's too late.

Noone should prolong suffering like this.

It would be selfish of me to hold you back.

But I don't know why, there's that mark that you've left on me, that mark that aches every time I think back, I look back, I recall the sights and sounds and scents and caresses-

-You smelt of blood orange and I smelt of green apples.

It hurts...my head hurts, my scars hurt, my heart's been abandoned in a space, shattered like little pieces of bright red glass.

-

Maybe I never deserved you.

Gripping my red-glass-heart in my hands that so easily grow cold, the force from my shaking fingers cause blooming hairline fractures across the shiny surface.

Maybe she's better than I could ever have been.

The force of my icy fingers press onto the fragile object, and splinters fall with a quiet ~plink~ as they hit the ground.

I am the millstone around your neck that stops you from moving forward.

A finger punches through the hollow glass heart, where the jagged edges trace ribbons of red across skin and raw flesh.

And in the end I'm just an insignificant being lost in a sea of emotion.

Lies and truth are indistinguishable and maybe even the same.

Where every part of my being feels lacerated and scarred and tender to the touch.

I recoil to touch, such a contrast to when I longed for and embraced tender caresses.

Trust is difficult. Everybody lies.

Whether to save themselves or to save others..or to 'save' others..

I stare at you, all shaky images and running colors.

Winter Dreams

Only remnants of the winter dreams, 
Hot breaths staining windows white, 
Each breath held a single wish, 
And every day filled with laughter.  


The first time I took a step outside alone, 
The last time it was done with you, 
Holding hands next to you, 
Just passing time.  


I miss you always, 
I wish I could see your reflection, 
I don’t know if your love is real, 
But I still feel angry.  


I can’t bring myself to say it, 
That I wish your hand was entwined with mine, 
The warmth of the falling snow, 
The superimposed, joining of hands  


Why can’t we meet the demands, 
Passing these faces and feelings alone, 
Will the next phase of the moon, 
bring about newer changes?  


Even if I come running to you, 
Everything hurts, nothing’s changed for me, 
Though I cherish your heart and love and smile, 
The many thoughts are rushing through my mind.  


I won’t let you go so let wishes, 
Let white wishes fade so I can blow them again, 
Carving our name with trembling fingertips, 
Gentle words from gentle lips.  


I was hiding my true self all along, 
Shrouded in a lonely city that never sleeps,
I don’t want you to just become a voice, 
from my distant memories.  


I miss you always, 
I wish I could see your reflection,
I don’t know if your love is real, 
But I still feel angry. 


I can’t bring myself to say it, 
That I wish your hand was entwined with mine, 
The warmth of the falling snow, 
The warmth of your lips on mine.

Airplanes

I had a cheesy thought after listening to that song, Airplanes by B.O.B and Hayley Williams.


If we could actually wish on airplanes as if they were shooting stars, I'd wish on the one in July and November.


Heres your bucket, enjoy puking your innards out.
On the other hand, I'm really sorry this came into my head, but it just did.

crumbling pedestals

when you're elevated on a pedestal of sorts, it's a long way to go when you fall.

(also, it hurts when your face and ego kisses concrete.)

i'd say it would hurt quite a lot.

there's the time where you're put on a high pedestal with assumptions of

'she's smart, she's a genius'

'she's brash and takes no shit'

'she's independent'

'she can take care of herself'

'she can take whatever life throws at her..'

..or whatever the like.

.

.

.

then your pedestal starts shaking,

when you start to slip up, when you don't perform up to par or your grades aren't as good as expected, or when the weight of the world's just too much.

there's no one else to hold you up because they assume you'll be fine on your own.

words have never actually bounced off you, but rather you've quietly absorbed the blows and hidden the bruises.

when you're vulnerable and scared and tired, but you have no one to turn to for comfort.

when your shoulders are wet from everyone's tears but your own drop silent onto the ground.

when life gives you too much to handle and you're cracking under its weight without anyone to help you up.

when your pedestal is crumbling underneath your feet and you have nothing to fall on.

Can you?

Can you see past the darkness?

That's what I am. Darkness. That chasm buried deep into the core of the earth where no one dares to set foot in because they know that they'll get lost in mindless babbles and broken trains of though. Once in a while, a careless stranger might edge in between the iron-wrought gates out of pure curiosity and then choose.

Choose to run, or choose to live alongside the darkness.
..most people run.

Out of fear, out of disappointment, out of anger... But that's only because they can not comprehend. Humans fear what they do not understand. So who am I to feel resent? Who am I to fight them off? It's a simple equation of a plus b and the result will always change.
Because things change.

Darkness and emptiness and everything is what I am. I'm a lost case, wandering along the lines of existence and oblivion, taking whatever is thrown at me and either absorbing it like a punch in the gut or throwing it back, with 10 times the force.

Sometimes I wonder about the bad things I do. The things that cause tears from others, the things that cause hate, the things that cause misunderstandings and broken bonds. The things that break people's hearts. Things that break me.
Piece by piece the heart breaks off and crumbles into dust that collects over centuries (or was it seconds cos I've lost sense of time) and there is no wind, no gentle forgiving breeze to brush it away.

My thoughts are ugly, like the black death spreading over a country, like the black ink i write with staining a pure white sheet in complete ebony. Ugly thoughts for an ugly person-- or else why would I wear a mask everyday? Like marble, like mud. Like rusted silver or crusted gold. Like the sludge and slime you go through before you hit gold.

So let the ocean of tears i've wept overnight cleanse me of my sins because I don't have the strength to face myself anymore.
I'm losing myself, i'm losing grip of who i've promised to be, I'm losing it.
But i'd much rather lose everything, than lose you.

Because you're the one thing that's bright in my life:
The single, wavering, flickering star in my space and my eternity--
and I never want to see you burn out.

It won't last

I. The type of silences that never goes away

Silences that are nothing but an empty, echoing void filled with held-back words and clumsy thoughts (because your presence always seems to be as distracting as the traffic in Times Square— loud, obnoxious, never-ending). These silences intimidate me: so suffocating. The vacuum drowning my entire body -like the oceans i've cried every night over you— yet when I drown, I float. I let go of all my inhibitions and gently waver between the lines of fantasy and reality because I can't tell the difference between them anymore. As the clock ticks, confusion overrides my mind and soon I crash back down onto the rocky pavement of hard reality and scrape my heart but that's okay because this type of pain reminds me that i'm alive.
And it keeps me awake, even though I'm still wandering.

II. Screaming breaks the silence

Overwhelming frustration, the type that ends in mind-wrenching headaches and paleness, blue-tinged skin with dark, empty eyes and shadowed circles under those glittering orbs (because emptiness and pain can also be beautiful). Anger ending with silence, sadness ending in the forever falling waterfall of black tears— not white, because you've already stolen my innocence

"Nothing left to say?"

Nothing and everything.

"Say something!"

If only I could

"You know I hate when you're quiet"

Yet I can't help it

"...say something. Please?"

I can't. Stop asking me to. I can't stand it.

Don't use that voice. Don't look at me with those eyes.

Don't. Stop. Stop it. Stop it now.

I'm b-b-b-br e a k i n g a-a-a-a p a r t

"I'm sorry."

III. Even angels can fall

A snowstorm of bleached feathers, as soft as your creamy, silken skin like a blanket of stars hung across an ocean of night, each snowflake radiating it's own light like a halo as it falls on my face, burning slightly (a gentle reminder from the angels that my own melting heart is what really hurts) before rolling down my cheeks, like rivulets of tears following familiar paths before shattering as it hits the floor; a hundred more broken tears to echo the thousands of broken hearts to mimic the millions of jagged pieces of glass (and baby, you better hope that I don't accidentally step on them because I don't need to bleed any more than I already have). And the hundreds, thousands, millions of minuscule diamonds isn't even worth what you could be to me, even though each glittering piece is a wish every night that I can stop dreaming of you-Because dreams are dangerous and your parched lips and hungry hands drink up every drop of my purity.
And I can't, don't want to stop you anymore.

IV. Blood, sweat and tears are nothing compared to what i've been through

And i've been through the storms, floods, hails and earthquakes ("is that the sound of my heart breaking?") and you can call me a liar but it's the truth.

"How can I believe you"

You can't.

You can't believe me because I could be lying. Every word I whisper, every word I scribble (dotting the i's and curling the y's because perfection is everything to me and elegance is the image I set myself up for) onto pure ivory pages with blotching black ink spreading like a starving disease could very well be a lie. "You mean the world to me," 's and "You're everything to me" 's and "I can't live without you" 's could just be a figment of our meager, limited imagination.


But I know that I can and will cross mountains and oceans for you (even if it means swimming in my own tears) and that you are not the world to me but you are the sun that my world revolves around because I would've eclipsed long ago without your dazzling smile. Let the truths rip your cloak of lonely dark to shreds, and face me like the sun you are because your imperfections are just what makes you painfully beautiful in my eyes...

...because cliche words, scarlet sunsets and "i love you"'s (so why are my memories so flawless) won't last forever








(...to be edited, rewritten, scrapped, sweared at, scrutinized and continued. 8D)
(c) Isabella Sayuri Tan




NOTE: As similar as it may be to someone's work. I stand by the fact that it's the same format but different words. Different words and different meaning. But respecting her wishes, I took it off everywhere except here. Because this piece.. also means alot to me.

Language of men.

What we think when guys say this to us:

"You look beautiful"
Bella: He means, "You're pretty decent, let's have sex =D" - Most playboys, if not all, really just want to win you over, get with you, dump and go, "asta la vista baby!" Then go brag abt it, what a guy. ==

Mimi: Beer goggles. Yayyyyyyyyy. Either he's really drunk, or needs to get his eyes checked out.

Thinking too much

Something in my chest pulls
This need, its unnatural
Slowly, slowly, I'm addicted
My mind, its blank
whenever you surprise me with words as sweet as honey

This devotion and perseverance, feels alien
2 years, is it worth it?
I hate these insecurity, this self loathing
You're out of my league
I know that
but I can't help but feel happy that you've noticed me at all

we only talk at night
and only on msn no less
you stay up later and later everyday
only going to sleep after I decide that I can't stay on any longer
but you should really take care of your own health

I wonder sometimes at night
how I'm gonna face you when you finally return
for you behave so very differently now
from when we last met face to face
would there be awkward silences
or comfortable hugs and chatting?

I think too much.

PS: This is what Disjointed Scribbles really mean. THEY DON'T LINK TO EACH OTHER AT ALL. Wtf am I writing.

Colours of my heart

He is like gold.

The rich, sunlit, bronze-but-much-shinier colour that the sun eagerly beams out, it's fingers hungrily absorbing the darkness of the night before. He is like gold, the colour of wealth and of power, his eyes glittering in the light, as hungry as the sunlight it reflects. He is like gold, he's worth more, much more than I can ever afford because who would want anything less?

His voice is like white.

The creamy, transparent white. The sort of white you see on the walls of a room, always there but never boring because this kind of white reminds you of the purity you've lost long ago because alcohol and used condoms are not something rare to come across in those parties you go to. The type of white that promises you hope, hope you've long forgotten and given up on.

His touch is like blue.

The soft, soothing turquoise, like the gentle ocean that rocks you to bed, the smell of sea-salts lulling you to sleep with the soft tendrils of seaweed caressing your body. The ocean that whispers promises, the waves lapping against the ground, washing away the surface you are standing on. This ocean could save you, washing away the filth from your body. The filth from your mind.

His love is like red.

The hot, fiery, burning flames of passion, slowly eating you away from the inside. It's searing hot, the pain enough for tears to well up in your eyes and drip down your cheeks. But you don't mind this kind of pain, because it makes you feel real. It makes you feel like you're alive again (because everything you've gone through before has already killed your heart and numbed your body)

You are like a dulled silver.

First dull, unnoticed, hidden away in the corner of the drawer. A last minute choice to be shown into the world. Grey, colourless and lying there, dead. Lifeless. Something left to slowly rust away until you're nothing anymore because that's what you're worth. Nothing. 

But I need him to look closer.

Because hidden under all that filth, dirt, dullness..

There is something special waiting to shine.

Song of longing

Let my voice reach your heart, 
It's the songs of echoing and loneliness, 
A gentle requiem, 
a song for the sun, for the moon, for the stars.  


I sink to the bottom of tears, 
To the depths of this forgotten fantasy, 
This artificial world lying at the end, 
is where my voice will fade away.  


To the sound of sudden silence, 
Hung with the resonance of thunder, 
Thunder of tears, thunder of war, 
A never ending cycle keeps on moving.  


A paradise of light and shadow, 
Light touches my soul yet shadow lurks behind, 
Carving your voice onto the map of my heart, 
I am looking for you in the sky.  


A song as soothing as the rain, 
A song that calls for the drowning of stars, 
A song that calls for my saviour, 
To save me from this darkness.  


A never ending, repeating history,
A never ending, repeating rainfall of tears, 
Whispers of sadness and lost ones,
I beg of you, don't leave me too.  


So i'll sing and sing, 
To protect the people of the light, 
Keep this darkness locked away from the world, 
To save the smiles of those innocent.  


Like those before me, 
Who fell to the darkness at their last breath, 
Who bled and cried tears of pain, 
Breaking apart in the echoing night.  


I weep for their painful death, 
Tears of blood drain from me effortlessly, 
But I will keep on singing no matter the blood or pain,
Until you hear me, find me, save me,  


Please save me. 


(c) Sayurichan (inspired by Synchronicity, a song by Vocaloids: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gSJO1QxiSA)

It doesn't matter

No matter where you go.

It doesn't matter.

No matter what you do.

It doesn't matter.

No matter what you say.

It doesn't matter.

No, it doesn't matter.

You could be the president. You could be the beggar down the street. You could be the neighbour, or the one who lives far away. You could be a lawyer, you could be a waiter. You could be the next top artist, it doesn't matter to me.

No, it doesn't matter.

You could be mean, you could be kind. You could be arrogant, you could be sweet. You could be the world's biggest idiot, or the genius who wins awards. You could be going to Harvard, it doesn't matter to me.

No, it doesn't matter.

But.

You could be my friend, you could be my lover. You could be the one I turn to, or the one I always lean on. You could be my support, the reason I laugh everyday, you could be the one who makes me smile no matter what others say. You could be there for me, whenever I truly needed you

And that matters.

That really matters to me.

For the love of-

Why
Tell me why
Why do you have to be so far away?
I crave you
I miss you
I want to be around you
I want to hang out with you at a cafe, chatting away while on the laptop
I want to go to movies with you
I wish you were just around the corner of my house
I sit everyday at home
Waiting, hoping, wishing
To get a taste of you.
Again
and
again
I'm addicted to you.
Its hopeless.

WHY STARBUCKS WHY. WHY CAN'T YOU BE NEARBY SO I CAN HAVE SOME MOCHA FRAPPUCINOS.

Also why do you have to be so frikkin expensive =w=

Hey Girl

Hey girl,

I used to think

that you were kind

and loving

with flushed cheeks

and a cute smile

that dimple in your left cheek

when you laughed

you made me laugh

with your happiness

and your eyes

sparkled with life

and you listened to my secrets

and told me your stories

and we had our own language

and were able to talk

without any words used

and nights were spent

us having fun together.

But now,

Hey girl,

what happened to you?

you've turned cold

and you've turned sly

your cheeks are red

with all the makeup on

and that smile turned fake

with lipstick smeared all over

where he had run his lips over

your laugh 

leaves me feeling cold

it's not a kind laugh

and your eyes

are now hollow and empty

i don't tell you my secrets anymore

and you tell me lies

and our connection is broken

and what you say is alien to me

and the nights you spend

you now spend with him.

And now,

Hey girl,

where did you go?

This isn't the you i liked,

this isn't the you i'm friends with,

you've turned into someone else,

and that someone is a stranger.

Hey girl,

Bye girl,
Tell me when you're yourself again.

I wish that..

I wish that I could be a kid again

Where people laugh and go "awww"

at your stupidity and innocence.

Instead of making fun of you.

But we all have to grow up sometime don't we?

Light and Fluffy

Yesterday night was a good dream
But its not a dream
She doesn't lie
He talks more



I am happy, light and fluffy.


Is this what love is?


Counting down the days till you come back.
Patience really does pay off.

I am a balloon

I'm sorry

I really am sorry

I don't know what to say

when i've said it all already

it upsets me when I realized

that i didn't say all that I wanted

that I didn't do all that I wanted to

that I didn't have the guts to just do it

that I didn't have the courage to say that

but know that I wanted to and also that 

I really regret not doing what I wanted

because... I realized, that only if I had

done what i wanted to do back then

then things would be different now

much much different then reality

if only i had the courage to 

have given you my heart

then maybe we'd still

be together but I

guess that 

it's too 

late

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I feel like i'm a balloon. I'm tied to the ground, forced to follow others on a string, showed off like an item on display and popped with something sharp when they feel like it, bursting me into different pieces. But I wish that like a balloon, they would just get tired of me and let go. Or a gentle breeze would come and lift me out of their sweating, desperate, reaching hands and away from their cold eyes, fake smiles and fake laughter. I wish that I could just float, fly up and away from everything, to the sky--where I want to be. I wish that I could float amongst the clouds, dance in the rain, bathe in the sun and laugh as I watch everything below me slowly fade into nothing but specks of dust.

I wish that I could do that with you

Because you're as tied down as I am, suffering as much as I am but you're not a balloon

You can't dance in the rain because your tears are the rain

You can't float amongst the clouds because the clouds are your thoughts

You can't bathe in the sun because you are the sun

You are also the breeze

The gentle warm breeze, tugging me out of their grasp, freeing me, protecting me, giving me gentle nudges from behind to remind me of what I could do. 

How I wish that you were a balloon,

So that we could laugh at everything together

until everyone disappears

and we are the only ones left floating,

a beacon of freedom in the setting sun.


and nothing ties us down anymore.

Mature

Looking around me, I've come to realize that everyone my age around me are growing up, cultivating that mature air college students have.

Its like they've thrown away all the childishness I used to identify with them, that comfortable air that made us best friends.

.
.
.

Because we could act like little kids and talk like little kids and play like little kids.

Now they've left me for their life's dreams and ambitions (and occasionally the MY-PARENTS-MADE-ME-TAKE-IT-UP-OTL) and they seem so far away.

It makes me afraid to grow up.
Peter Pan syndrome?

That's why, you high school kids, appreciate your age and life in school.
Don't keep wishing to grow up, enjoy your time when you're young.
It rather makes me wish I was 16 again.


At least I know we're still best friends... right?

Living for the moments

Stop.

Stop time.
Just freeze in your thoughts and rewind back

Rewind back and just think
Think of that one time in your life where you experienced something

Something beautiful.
Something dangerous.
Something so magical that caused you to let go of all your inhibitions.
Let go —and drown

Drown in the memories
Drown in the feelings you experienced when you

Touched his hand,
Spoke his name,
Kissed his lips

and hear your name whispered with the faintest of breaths.

Stop.

Fast forward.
Fast forward back to the present

and press play.
Remember those moments and keep them in your heart,
keep them as you go on with your life.

Because they remind you that you are living for moments like those,
and moments can past by in a flash.

Life gives you lemons.

"too carefree to be given a thought, too ignorant it became empty, too precious to one and worthless too another... sometimes it is taken for granted, the values being forgotten. it made me questions my own being. Why am I here?"

Sometimes life gives you lemons and you make lemonade.

When life offers you an opportunity, we are faced with decisions. To take it? Or to not take it? But making the decision is the hard part. Should I  take the chance and face the consequences of failing? Or should I not take the chance, and face the pain of regret?

Then you think of the goals ahead, and the goals you can reach and you make your decision.

Whatever decision it is.

But then you think back on why you're doing this.

Then you go even further and ask why are you even thinking about it?

Then even more until you think,

"What the hell am I doing here?"

Then you stop.

And you try to think about it.

What is our purpose here on Earth?

I haven't figured it out yet.

But until I have,

When life gives me lemons, I throw it right back in it's face.

I don't dare to say it.

I'm drowning in a world without air

I'm blinded in a world without light

I'm hoarse in a world without music

I'm lost in a world without you

***

What can I do about this hopeless love?

We live in a cruel world where society loves nothing better than to pull us apart, because we are different.

Maybe I'm being delusional.

It's not love.

.

.

.

is it?

Grandmutti and body issues

My grandma has been staying with us for a few weeks already due to her fear of my grandpa haunting her after his death.

Her fear is valid, but its her fault. She never took care of Gramps :/ She even had dreams of ditching Gramps for her boyfriend.


Her stay with us was taxing, and my sister and I are reaching our limits.

Today, sister snapped, while we were all doing the laundry and grandma went home for a while.

"I'VE HAD IT. I WANT TO WATCH THE TV. I MISS SPONGEBOB."




We laffed.
(Well, she missed Glee as well. I didn't care what grandmutti thinks, I just asked to switch the channel and just did it.)




And then I found out how I was mishandled by my grand-m. Wow. Way to love your first grand daughter.

Sorry, my mom comes first. I love my mom more than I'll ever love you, because you never tried to be a huge part of my life. Unlike my mom.

--------

BODY ISSUES.


Some people have gorgeous, slim figures with a nice, appropriate bust size and a nice butt. They have flat tummies, that nice S-line curve, and non hairy legs. Their eyes are just nice, lashes at a humane length, a cute heart shaped face and glossy long hair.


What I do not understand is why the eff do they complain about it.

They complain that they're fat.


Does that mean those slightly larger sized than them are obesed?
Gee, thanks.


Sayuri: And seriously people, if you have curves, STOP COMPLAINING. ;___;

HOTNESS

This guy is our new god.

If you can't sing, dance, act, smile, look hot, do amazing stuff like he can, you're rejected

Kthnxbai.

Born in Kobe on May 24, 1990, Yuya Matsushita was raised by his mother and grandmother. As a sixth grader in 2002, Matsushita decided to pursue a career in music, enrolling in Caless Vocal & Dance School. Around 9th grade, despite clashing with his mother regarding his future plans, a visit to New York City strengthened his determination to become an artist. He met with producer Jin Nakamura who presented him with the song "foolish foolish". The filming for the single also took place in New York, after being signed to Epic Records.

In 2009, Yuya Matsushita had his stage debut as Sebastian Michaels in the Kuroshitsuji Musical. His single, Trust Me was used as the first ED (ending theme) in theDurarara anime, and peaked at 10 in the weekly Oricon charts.