In the midst of

mnl in bnw

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 23:08:17 -0400

mnl in bnw

itouchtouchthings: 341 / PLEASE READ THIS SLOWLY, I WANT YOU TO...

Thu, 10 May 2012 07:19:01 -0400

itouchtouchthings:

341 / PLEASE READ THIS SLOWLY, I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IT’S OKAY.

“I am no longer that girl, no longer that prayer”

But I’m slightly okay now, though. And I will entirely be, eventually.

thecoffeejunkie: I’m the ghost in the back of your head.

Thu, 10 May 2012 07:05:07 -0400

thecoffeejunkie:

I’m the ghost in the back of your head.

Photo

Thu, 10 May 2012 07:01:26 -0400

Photo

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 07:52:57 -0500

This is a picture of the bodies where our souls were once home....

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 16:36:50 -0500

This is a picture of the bodies where our souls were once home. Or maybe not exactly a picture. Maybe, this is just one of those everlastingly weird and superficial formations of my imagination, or other’s imagination, or maybe your imagination at one point in your life, a life with which i used to revolve around, as far as your mushiness is concerned. This is a picture of the bodies which positions shown in the picture no longer exist. This is a picture of what used to be our bodies. These… were us.

Photo

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 01:14:13 -0500

Photo

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 00:29:38 -0500

awarewolves: It happens in the middle of the night, when a bad dream suddenly wakes you up, and you...

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 00:28:26 -0500

awarewolves:

It happens in the middle of the night, when a bad dream suddenly wakes you up, and you find yourself feeling most alone than ever. Your pillows are prepared to be soiled with tears. Yet you are never prepared to cry.

Instead, you watch the beams of light distinctly directed at the foot of your bed, and you try to remember the dream you just had. But only his face contains your thoughts. You remember the way he looks at you differently. You always thought it meant something else.

Did it mean something else? It did mean something else.

The hours eat up the span of darkness and suddenly, your eyes adjust to the shift of colors. The room is filled with tints of a blackened orange, like the fruit dirtied by charcoal. You remember the tone of his voice when he said that he loves you intensely. You remember the tone of his voice when he said that he’s about to leave you for someone else.

It didn’t mean something else. He did mean someone else.

Your room takes up as much sunlight as it could, and you shed a tear or two from the harsh brightness of a new day. You remind yourself why there is none of his solid breathing staining your skin, burning it mercilessly, like an acidic sting on your wounded exterior. You think of it the way you ward off a nightmare the exact minute before you surrender to sleep. And you wish that forgetting him was as easy as waking up from last night’s bad dream.

But it isn’t, is it? He’s a bad memory you’re going to try to forget your whole goddamn life.

Ay shet lang ‘to

And you wish that forgetting him was as easy as waking up from last night’s bad dream.

But it isn’t, is it? He’s a bad memory you’re going to try to forget your whole goddamn life.

mildewonmytoast: cosascool: ‘Straw’. for the Arts & Earth...

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 00:23:00 -0500

mildewonmytoast:

cosascool:

‘Straw’. for the Arts & Earth Festival. (2009)

COOL COOL COOL AD. San ba ‘to?

W.I.T.C.H.!!! Aww childhood <3

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 00:22:57 -0500

W.I.T.C.H.!!! Aww childhood <3

I wish people can take everything with them when they leave. Everything that is and might be...

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 00:18:21 -0500

I wish people can take everything with them when they leave.

Everything that is and might be intertwined with the entire concept of the one who left. The dried-up mud on the shoes worn during that unforgettable drizzly evening, the crumpled worksheets in memory of a tough Accounting problem, the laughters and the songs which are now unclear voices in one’s head, too unclear to even recognize if they were really once part of what used to be a wonderful reality or if they’re just plain and ridiculous delusions and hallucinations ever since, the past recolletions, the questions forever unanswered, the indefinite and inconsistent emotions. Even the potential pain the one that is left behind might feel. Everything. Just everything.

When someone leaves, another one is always left behind. Why is it so hard for people to just simply turn backs on each other and walk separate, opposite directions? When someone leaves, the other one, the one that is left behind, emptily and hopelessly stares at the silhouette of the one that left, and then sighs. And finally, decides to take the opposite track. That’s the time when the one that left becomes the one that is left behind. They switch places. Until later on, they both become the one that left. Either one of them believes that the earth is round, that somewhere, in their separate flights, their ends will meet. Either one of them. But never the two of them.

I wish people to be more considerate to bring everything with them when they leave. The past recolletions, the questions forever unanswered, the indefinite and inconsistent emotions and most especially the potential pain the one that is left behind might feel. But no. No. It’s sad that the world is fair but the people in it are not.

A first of February post.

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 07:14:28 -0500

It’s been a year

teimipromdi:

Love is the earth’s core, the orbit with which it revolves around, the air which its inhabitants breathe in, the morning sun, the illuminating moon, the flickering stars that make our wishes come true. Yet, its mere absence is the pile of worms feasting on one’s decaying heart buried underneath the imperfections of the world.

Photo

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 06:52:53 -0500

awarewolves: “So I guess this is it.” “It - what is it?” “The falling, the near-landing. The...

Fri, 06 Jan 2012 09:29:37 -0500

awarewolves:

“So I guess this is it.”

“It - what is it?”

“The falling, the near-landing. The inevitable crash at the bottom of everything.”

“What is everything anyway?”

“Everything! You can’t just not know everything.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t. Which is why you should tell me. Right now.”

“Everything… it’s all that’s remained, all that’s left. Everything is all that you can hold invisibly. Everything is all that you cramp inside your tiny, beating center.”

“Then you’re not part of it — everything. You’re never going to be it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“But I promise you. Everything is still going to be alright.”

“But you can’t promise something that’s never going to happen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because we’ve already reached solid ground. Which means everything’s supposed to be done. And if everything’s done, really, tell me, what’s still there to fix?”

And if everything’s done, really, tell me, what’s still there to fix?

awarewolves: His eyes glisten with the tiny diamond drops of the sky’s downpour. I can see a...

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 22:10:56 -0500

awarewolves:

His eyes glisten with the tiny diamond drops of the sky’s downpour. I can see a rainbow somewhere through those little balls that bear his sight. I wonder what he sees in me. In him, I see the moon, the stars, the hazy clouds, the perfect evening portrait. In him, I see the flock of birds rotating in mid-air, the reflection of the sun’s undying light, the inimitable grayness of the overhead dawn. In him, I see everything beautiful. In him, in those eyes, I wonder what he could see through me.

I wonder. If. He even sees me.

I wonder

If sadness was a sea, I’d drown in it.

Tue, 06 Dec 2011 21:14:37 -0500

If sadness was a sea, I’d drown in it.

awarewolves: This is what I’ve learned about people: they have always been meant to be...

Tue, 06 Dec 2011 21:11:39 -0500

awarewolves:

This is what I’ve learned about people: they have always been meant to be strangers.

And this, right now, is something I have never learned just yet. Yet I know, someday, I finally will.

We are all meant to be strangers with one another. We
are all meant to acquaint estrangement, in some end or another.

Remind yourself of that old friend from high school. It barely feels you’ve lived on the same plane of time. Remember the boy who promised to take you to nightly park walks. Only the smell of his perfume remains in the recesses of your memories. Try to picture the only person you would talk to when you were still fourteen. Only now, you picture that person talking only to a multitude of somebody else’s, somebodies that are never you, at least, presently.

And I guess, that is how the world will always work. How the mechanics of relationships will be explicitly and simplistically defined.

We are and always will be meant to be strangers.

awarewolves: Favorite You just did, actually.

Tue, 06 Dec 2011 21:07:27 -0500

awarewolves:

Favorite

You just did, actually.

awarewolves: thecoffeejunkie: Polaroid Stories. A little...

Tue, 18 Oct 2011 01:37:11 -0400

awarewolves:

thecoffeejunkie:

Polaroid Stories. A little project between Petersen and I. His words, my photos.

Follow Abby and I’s mini-project!

I am leaving this city. But not you. Not now. Not yet.