just smile and wave.

i wish i could lie on my nonexistent driveway like the Vitruvian Man and wait for the world to descend upon me. i would confidently take on one sky at a time on my tense shoulders because nothing can indefinitely beat the current weight that drags my every bodily movement down. my hands would remain outstretched for that one twinkling star above my head, and i would cover the star with my right hand and grasp the empty air in silent hope that i would someday reach it. i would lie limp with the corners of my mouth pointed south, and oh how i wish i could change my directions. my path. myself.
then i would hope the earth would be my soaking ground, and maybe my contained love will diffuse through the pavement and into the earthly roots of a backyard of someone who is able to return the same favor. instead, i know i would only slap the emotionless hot pavement to receive an empty, hollow response and a pained hand.
i wish i could drive to a place that my navigation system claims to not exist. i would wave at the passing trees and smile with a glowing warmth that is sincere to every downright vein in my pathetic body.
i wish i could be catapulted from this very pavement and into another dimension that holds every person's feelings as precious gems. then maybe they can truly shine and glimmer at their finest values ..

retrograde. promenade.

it knows pain.
the pillow is favorite.
so stupid again.


impossible to reach.





kenna - say goodbye to love

like an etch on treebark. like cardiac arrest of her heart.

she is fading. she is slowly drowning in her own ways.
they tell her she's not good enough. they tell her she doesn't respect herself. they tell her others whisper of her flaws .. her downfall. they tell her their expectations have dropped like a plummeting parachute jumper - with no fucking parachute. why does she care anyway?
she is falling. she is falling through the invisible safety net.
there is no one to catch her fall. not even him. definitely not him.
she is reaching. she is reaching for dwindling hope. she is reaching for the dark.
once again, weakness is sucking her insides away. she is left with nothing.
she lies in bed with her hands outstretched like a feeble child, awaiting someone and anyone to alleviate her deathly sickness. she waits and nothing happens. she tries not to care. she will not care.

she is gone.
goodbye.

sue me, please.

i think it's about time i picked up this neglected hobby of mine.
i think it's about time i distinguish the good from the bad.
it's about time i realize that ...



i think my blogs are way too depressing. the old posts are quite heart-wrenching and an overflow of emotional nonsense. apparently, i'm only inspired to write when i'm emotionally disturbed?
how sad.


irvine - kelly clarkson
porcelain heart - barlow girl

watching the rain

I wish there was a photograph that showed me here with you
And I could kiss the photograph and make my wish come true
I wish I was a humming dove so I could sing so sweet
I wish that I could steal the moon and kiss it with my feet
I wish I was a remedy that you wanted to take
A product of a recipe that no one had to bake
I wish I could forget the day the hurting in my heart
And wash our mouths with listerine to make a brand new start

[chorus:]
Watching the rain fall down
Watching the rain
Watching the rain
Watching the rain fall down
Watching the rain
Watching the rain fall down

I wish there was a fairytale that turned into my life
So I could kiss Prince Charming man and be his princess wife
I wish the voices in my head would leave my ears alone
So my eyes could stop their water bleeding and I could find a home
I wish there was a ruby rose where I spread my wings and flew
So I could inhale the perfume and be the morning dew
I wish the raindrops on the glass would let me join their dance
I'd spin and twirl and laugh with them and drown my thoughts per-chance

[chorus]
Woa woa I kinda like it
Woa woa
Woa woa I kinda like it this way
Watchin the rain
Watchin the rain

[chorus]
Watchin the rain, watchin the rain
...

drink this cup of venom.

i miss writing.
i miss leisure books.
i miss 8 years ago.
i miss perfection.
i miss childhood oblivion.
i miss some other peculiar things.

[edit]
it's amazing how we build ourselves for that underlying moment only to find ourselves crushed by the inconceivable outcome. we receive that blow to our minds, as if a barbarian just swung his handy pike to our heads. we lose the battle. must we drag our completely battered bodies forward to safer grounds? is it worth the effort?

must we be given life in a household of struggles? must we be destined to hit brick-walled obstacles in full impact .. and to look up teary-eyed and watchfully at others who live in armoured castles? must we replenish ourselves but to only find our futures stunted?

must we drink this cup of venom?
[/edit]

summer is upon us. i am constantly reminded by the humidity and our confident sun. what joy. :) or not?

do me a favor and pull that trigger, baby.

there comes a low point in life .. one that's stubbornly rooted and one that refuses to emancipate you, leaving you the prisoner floundering helplessly and hopelessly in the deep end of the pool. who can dive in and haul you back to safety grounds of happiness or for others - back to a mere facade of our porcelain smiles and nonexistent pleasures? these invisible weights tied to these slumped shoulders of mine are incapable of being levied off, and these burdens and questions ricocheting in this puny brain of mine refuse to retrieve to their home bases. i find no comfort in anything, only in the momentary self-indulgences in life. i excel in nothing. i possess nothing of significant value. pushed beyond belief by this "director" of my so-called life, i find no purpose in the things i mull over everyday. seven o'clock i arrive at those bleak halls, prepared to aimlessly shoot for volatile aims and uncertainties. i am not possessed by the pure evil of pessimism because i do see the ever-twinkling photons of light glazing afar. however as i yearn and tippy-toe in search of such paradise, i find myself once again lashed by some impeding force. once again i find myself building my walls of defense, my wounded pride. beaten once more, i am struggling to stand again. yes, i stumble. i fall. and i fall hard.

i do want to believe that there's something more to this. i can't deny it because i do .. this self-restraining order is unbelievably hard. im probably just waiting for it to backfire and kick me in the face.
and yet again believing in Him is even harder. can You give me a sign?

go away, World. or rather - i'll go away.

symptoms of somnambulism.

like a kid gluing back the pieces of a broken vase, she gradually began to piece herself together - but only to find a clash between the surreal truth and her stubbornly rooted abstractions of her past. her healing process was marred by her own failed attempts to obscure her emptiness and pathetic excuses to blame herself, to hurt once more, and to think of him .. reality was hard to soak in - she was an unwilling sponge. long were the days when she would catch herself pondering the unthinkable. long were the nights when she cried herself to sleep, imprinting streaks of dry river beds down her ethereal face ..



what the -- am i doing ..
i succumb to weakness. i give up.

this undying death of hers.

the anticipation killed her. as she stood waiting, her fragile heart tensed as her bright eyes scanned the sea of beings, and unexpectedly a hesitant shadow slowly enveloped her. his arrival warmed her heart as fast as it turned it ice cold. his apathetic words pierced her, heartlessly skinning her piece by piece. she questioningly gazed into the stranger's eyes, endless pools of black that seemed to drown and suffocate her. what happened to her sunshine? now she's uncontrollably choking on her overflowing tears. he's back for someone else, and her sunlight is stolen away. he appeared to be the careless and indifferent kid in science class who seemed to recklessly dissect her emotions. as he strangled her with his insensitive sentences, he seemed to rip out her heart with razor-sharp scissors and wicked pliers and gloatingly grasp it in his pitiless hands. he killed her, but sadly she cannot die. her internal bleeding will seep forever. his arrival asphyxiated her, and her flame extinguished.

For once I want to be the car crash
Not always just the traffic jam
Hit me hard enough to wake me
And lead me wild to your dark roads.

----------------------------

here goes my philippic.
evidently, i am sick of lovey-dovey idealistic stories. sure i experience its reality with a tang of sourness from the deafening silences that alienate the two closest human beings in the whole world to me. of course there's always their standoffish attitudes .. their indifferent glances .. their impatient exchanges of words. it's as if they're against the acknowledgement of each other's existence, and from my insides i'm screaming what went wrong since the day they left the altar. if not each other, i'm beggging then that they please find a significant other because a life in solitude is no better than no life at all ..

as for myself, school's a killer. what do i expect? it's junior year for pete's sake and i want to slap myself. wake up tiffany!


ah, the guilty pleasures in life - how i'd love to splurge.

her afterglow.

as the beaming sun gradually descended towards the perfect horizon and slowly became engulfed by the gaping ocean, she stood beside him in deafening silence. the loud silence seemed to speak for itself. no words were capable of formulating any sense from her muddle of thoughts, which were all eagerly waiting to surface and give some indication of life to her inscrutable face. as if the seagulls seemed to be the only specimens of animate existence, they flew overhead while he and she waited for the sun to depart to another world - to finish its daily arduous task of giving people a sight to see and to wait for another day to bring sunshine into someone's life.

he, nonetheless, was her sunshine. he was her guiding light and aurora. their bodies stood unstirred basking in the sun's thermal glow, which only added more ferocity to their ignited hearts and souls. and just then, he turned to face her, and his black pupils moved back and forth between her brown eyes. his soft hand found hers, and she slowly traced her fingertip around his inviting lips. as time ceased to exist in her world, everything was blotched from sight - except him, the perfect embodiment of a being. the rays of sunlight gently graced his features, throwing a warm veil over his kind face. slowly her eyes began to draw in every speckle and every line of perfection - from his chiseled jawline, his unshaven coarse chin to his intoxicating yet mellow eyes, endless pools of black that can easily engulf any tractable victim. she pleadingly begged time to delay long enough for her to embed and imprint a lasting and undying image of his face in her crumbling heart. but of course, time persists and prevails. so there they embraced one another for their last hour, and there in his arms she spent until the bitter end.

the incandescent sun, sinking at an ever merciless pace, was only visible for a final fleeting second until it vanished under the horizon where the sky and the ocean kissed. the sun was off to roam other lands only to await for another day to reappear in the world.

but in her world, her sun vacated her, and it showed on her clouded face.
she was left to dwell on her bittersweet afterglow because her sunshine would not reappear for years to come ..

-----------------------------------------------------------------

[ reality ]

just had a sudden urge to write at 2 o'clock in the morning. all thanks to a nice venti cup of caffeine. i should, however, be working on my 300 pages of notes.

needless to say, procrastination is getting the best of me.

convey me, World.

it's difficult to begin to describe this inconceivable state of mind. by far, this is the hardest gulp of anger, guilt, disappointment, fustration, and confusion to swallow. the list of emotions elongates with the scrambling of my lost feelings, all eager to surface but at the same time fervent to find and sink into a comforting and belonging place. the ever-exhausted and laborous hands of the blue clock on the off-white wall, ticking with a tiresome tune that echos through my hallow head, prolongs my mixed musing and with every 'tick' sound, manages to racket those muddling trains of thoughts against the confined quarters of my little skull.
i am waiting. i am waiting for my clock. i am waiting for my clock, which currently ticks with a comforting tone, to count down 'til the day i enter eternal peace of mind where i can finally grasp my nonexistent state of solitude. every man is marked. from the day he gasps his first breath of air, his clock ticks and times him to accomplish exceptional feats until the very day the clock ceases to operate - the very day he breathes his last breath of life. as for myself, i have accomplished no exceptional feats. no glorious triumphs. no eminent exploits.
what do i find myself doing? something incogitable.

how i'd love to break my clock.