Ghostly.

I cried to my mom last night. She told me quote, You’re too kind that’s why you get hurt a lot, unquote. I didn’t know whether I should suck it as a compliment or puke it off because I’m not being wise with the kindness.

If my feelings were a forest I’d be lost in my own. I started to saunter in a garden of primrose, with calm confidence as I sniffed the air and scanned the plain. I thumbed over my view but the end seemed rather nebulous. I continued to toddle along, and with every exhilarating step I was glad to perceive the incessant ambiance. I wouldn’t want to leave. Yet all of a sudden the green grass turned to a shade of taupe. I paused to look up, calling whoever god there may be to bring rain. None. Silence. Stillness. Hush. The drought came swift — instantaneous compared to the mirthful laughter I shared  with the bush. It was too much affliction of sorrow. I kneeled to the last flower, watched it as it languidly shriveled. But I have no choice, I went on to my journey with the hopes of finding a way out. It was days full of tormenting and downcast. It left me goosebumps with no one to caress until they’re gone.

I am trapped in this forest, and I wish the wilted leaves were my memory, so that the wind can easily carry it away.

I rarely draw & paint. But when I do, Patrick does not know either.

I’m having fortuitous thoughts lately, and I’m blogging them out and about you might consider them banal after some time. This is a personal blog after all, I hope you won’t mind me posting my opinions on uncanny stuff haphazardly.

A man’s vocabulary, spelling and proper grammar may be sexy. The way he wears suit and tie might be charming. His facial structure could be bewitching. But what truly enthralls me is a man’s wit and candor.

Everything’s vague.

An old friend called me a “quitter” once when I told him the story of putting this book down for the sake of studying for finals. Now, this is what makes up most of my afternoons.

I have a very bad habit of proving people wrong.

One night all I did was stare at this candle.

One night all I did was sit in the chair.

One night all I did was smell its smoke.

One night all I thought of was you, and you alone.

The rain reminds me

so much of you

because it is falling hard

and I am too.

Today was lovely. It felt as if it happened to let me know that there’s still something I love that hasn’t changed. I actually dedicated the reconstruction of my blog to it. Farewell, ‘The Afterthoughts’.

You see, a broken heart is most likely what causes people to change.