This is a fun little 'pet-project' of a schoolgirl where she goes on to vent her feelings, thoughts and views, write, and babble on about nonesense that goes about her usual life.
If you've found this blog, then chances are great that you know me. I'm just a regular asian schoolgirl, and there's nothing out of the ordinary with me. But alongside that, I am a violinist, an artist, a model, a travel enthusiast, and a web designer. I love many things such as: my culture, foreign languages, books, stuffed animals, the rain, and animals. In the same breath, I dislike a few things. These few would consist of: homework, cold weather, milk, heights and crowded beaches. I also have my share of hopes and dreams alongside everyone else.
Tagboard here, i reckon cbox.
[.o1] [.o2] [.o3]
[.o4] [.o5] [.o6] [.o7] [.o8] [.o9] [.1o] [.11] [.12] [.13] [.14] [.15] [.16] [.17] [.18] [.19} [.20]
June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 April 2010 July 2010 September 2010 February 2011
TOP OF PAGE
Sunday, April 18, 20104:44 PM
i am tangible
fact: i wasted my break
spring break is coming to a close my love, and i shall give my farewell as the night closes on. classes will break as the sun crests above my heart, and i'll lose you once more. i shall say that i have not done much this break, i should've utilized more of precious time. large poster sheets of illustration paper lay dead upon the wood grain of my dining room table. upon their off white faces, graphite and ink make love to birth sketches and half hearted depictions of... nothing. intangible masses and lines look up and peer at me. my 'masterpiece' will be finished at the very next moment i feel 'stirred'. but i shall remind you, that that shall never be soon.
i have one more day. one. one last day before i return to my life surrounded of textbooks, lined paper, and ink. what shall i do? what shall i do? can you tell me? tonight, i shall bury myself in my books and try to set and do all the work that is to be due. it is not much; there i shall breathe a sigh of relief. i must read a play, finish a few worksheets, and memorize some terms. all in all, it is not such a heavy burden.
outside it is chilling, an ominous sign that spring no longer loves me. the air is drafty and clings to my skin the way carbon dioxide clings to your ashen lips. it envelopes and consumes me in it's stark and mock affection.
i'm tired. i'm tired. i'm tired.
let me meld into your fingertips and hide beneath the flesh of our palms. let me lay there for a moment. there, i can hear the echo of your heart beat once, twice, thrice, until i slowly begin to loose count. hide me away from the sunlight, with curtains drawn, beneath tangled sheets, and bathed in muddled tones of yellow and grey.
TOP OF PAGE
Saturday, April 17, 20106:40 PM
spring showers bring may flowers
fact: it's much too cold for my liking.
it's been a while since i've written. yes. i'm very well aware of this fact, but i wasn't aware the last time i had written something was in the bitter recesses of december. to an extent a great deal has changed, and then again, nothing has changed at all. i'm still me. you are still you. i don't hold the reins to your life. i don't think i even hold the reins of my own, in fact.
it seems like spring has been teasing us all. for a week we had wondrous weather, and now, it has all but gone, and we are left shivering in the melancholy dew of last night's rain. i can feel myself receding again; back into the hollows of my chest where i can dwell safely in my own heart. i'll withdraw, call back my open arms and turn away. but i know i won't stay for long. i'll grow restless and break the vapid walls of my own heart as i stretch my fingertips to make myself at home. but there in my broken heart, i am safe from you.
do i, or did i ever love you? no. such a romantic and flitting definition does not suit me. i'm too young, and stupid to believe in that. or maybe, i am too old. i'm sorry, but i could never love you. but then again. you could never love me. i guess it's a fair trade off, no? yes. yes, indeed. we are equals. we are equals. we. are. equals...
did i break your heart? with all my knowledge, i did not. i would've heard your heart shatter within your chilling chest, singing to the soft tune of kisses of the rain against my window pane. did you break my own? no. no. i'm sorry, but you did not. you never let me into your heart, and i never bothered to let you into mine.
see? i'll open my heart and let you take a look. my dear, it's beautifully vacuous, and fine. it's not broken or shattered, or twisted or tattered. you did no damage, my love. shall i still call you that? my 'love'? no? yes? my dear. make up your mind.
have you broken my heart? my dear, must you keep asking? my answer has not changed, and it will not change:
i am fine. i am fine. i am fine.