Pluck Some Sugars to Feed the Aching Heart

Its a beautiful thing to hold yet so fragile. Its beyond compare but not that extravagant. Though it is a splendid gesture and a marvel to feel, thus so heart-wrenching that it sometimes leads to a life-compelling mixture; the bittersweet euphoria that sets you to tears, a melange of high-raising craziness (you didn't know why you do), the not-so-ordinary song you keep on playing inside your heartstrings and the extra pleasures of hearing that sweet soft subtle symphonies that suddenly interjects inside you (with or without you knowing).

Love is such a funny thing. Either twisting or revolting in every beat inside your heart. You hold it like a treasure, like a magical gift.

Sometimes you stumble on it in every strange way possible. Sometimes you search for it like a missing key to your door. Often times you wait for it like waiting for every rain to end as you watch how the skies change and rainbows meld.

There can be millions of stories you'll find about love. Cried over sappy chick flicks. Frolic on bags of popcorn and chips while dreaming of--that one fine dream--that same movie scene over and over again.

But there's also one thing that's truly special. Your very own LOVE STORY. Don't need to disregard the thorns. If love is a flower, and every blooming rose has its thorns that might prick you at the slight touch of it--you can't be satisfied looking at a flower (staring amazed by its beauty)--just like love, you have to cradle and hold it gently for you to feel and hug its worth.

Disclaimer: I have a whirlwind journey several weeks back.. (particularly in October) so I have pushed back writing this entry.. and have grown out of luck and inspiration in finishing this.. My ending's kind of a bit of a drag compared to my intro..

Currently Listening:

Kelly Clarkson's Mr. Know it All, Jojo's Disaster and especially Taylor Swifts' Enchanted

The Cracked Mirror and the Hazy Shadow

There's a glow in my eyes burning from the sight of things. I'm born with this silent masquerade while I'm shattered by a dejected seam. I could never alter the threads of the past but I can thread the pattern of what's to come. I don't remember much for I choose not to take glimpse of it.

It's quiet surreal to lay afloat on every bit of daydream. Sometimes, not everything is what it seems. But no matter how painful the memories feels, I try to hold on to something dear...those happy ones that none can borrow (its meant to be shared).

Every castle lies a secret. Every fortress has its valor. Every spell has its personal gain. Every thing may not always be perfect. Every miracle is a gift.

All I have in my hands are the old forgotten frames mixed with the prickly hapless glass with my stained reflection on it and a fervent smile I'm too shaky to keep.

I don't want to cut myself loose on damaged holes though I peep on them with blinding light. For I have been on one, a one of a kind big kind before. I've put a barrier around me. Its some sort of a defense mechanism. I've learned to chill; let it easy and try to laugh it out than to live in misery. I let my guard up because I don't want to break the glass in front of me again. I want to see clearer. I want to see who I am and what I have become.

A cracked mirror can still be fixed while hazy as the shadow be (even if its vividly dark and cold to feel), sometimes you just have to wait for the sun to shine light once again. That even when the sun sets on a deserted island, its best to get your feet wet no matter how crazy the weather can be.

There are certain things I can barely say directly, more-so when things get wary than what seems to be. I know its too late to apologize for doing insignificantly nothing in one corner and for my unusual shallow response. Also for my incapability to quickly respond since I'm a slow thinker who carefully tries to reprieve and sometimes tends to be at lost for words. How I hate this limiting notion in not being able to steal the dews away. I'm so sorry. I really am.

~END

Disclaimer: Can you see the mirrored past or even the future dark patterns of the raincloud?

Trigger Happy for a Curbed Sadness

Can you bear the silence without wincing? What's so menacing with uttering undaunted looks? I'm sure to mistook any relevant schemes and dont's; as impulsiveness weighs in. But I would never ever toss the road between us nor burn it. Likewise, I may say things insanely spontaneous or humorlessly blatant. Still, as reckless and restraint as I tend to be--whatever happens, however things may arise--I'll be just close behind.

Bleak Hope and Battened Fears

It all winds up in a cycle.

I didn't realize much sooner, how I slowly crumble. Although I drew strength to whatever that lies through my day to day thing. For I've gone wary of thinking too far ahead of the future since last year. Though probably I prefer not to--as the easy-going me gives a silent whisper in the background--I deem not to be frustrated again that's why. (Damn the Board Exams that I took three times, grabeng whirlwind din yun kaya!)


Starting anew direction can be a courageous exploit. Its a fearsome path I agree but at the same time its a fearless hurdle to take. 'Cause once you find that pure satisfaction, the end can be truly gratifying, isn't it?

Right now, I'm hanging in the balance; contemplating and properly pushing my loosened strength and garble them to a one big thing. So it'll cloud up my soul that will light on its own. I'm pushing forth confidence that'll enlighten my soul that I'll need on the way.


Wish me luck! Goodluck!~