How To Kiss a Butterfly: The Forgetting

She remembers looking at innocence and watching as it slowly breaks. As the light in her small room -- a gentle quaint soul of a young at heart -- shaken by the unconventional, shapen by the world she's in.

Her silence was a masquerade for she was in the darkness; shattered. And there are days where you just need to be you; so shove your mouth and think profoundly. She's speechless, humming out of tune.




In the darkness, she opens her gaze, part the curtains, had the strength to peek at the window, to find. . . two flowers in the garden.





The morn was damp, and soon the day will bustle with prickly heat in every way possible. As the ground will lay stern, humid breeze into passing while the surroundings are under its stillness, it is what she abhorred.

Carelessly in silence, she finally had the urge to move away from the window. She managed to look at the corners of her walls. Every detail, seam and fixtures were tattooed in her memory.  Every bit of the good and the bad: some shattered glass, a poster, a big strawberry stuff toy, a plain bed, numerous journals, flipped books, inked pen, a photo album, stolen pictures, empty trash can, thousands of blank papers and a knob-less door.


She squinted at the door, her fragility about it made her tensed. It was indeed broken just like her but she just kept it all in silence.

For silence was her weakness.

to be continued. . .

Currently Listening: Rinse by Vanessa Carlton

Related Links:

• The Cracked Mirror and the Hazy Shadow
• The Sad Estate
• Wordpress: The Strangers’ Admiration in Dusts: My Life's Fairytale (just read bullet #2, coz the others are crap, worst blog editing ever!)

Note: As I was writing this piece, I was reminded of "The Sad Estate" which was of similar content but a vague concept. And while I was starting to write the sequel to "The Forgetting" I keep on thinking about this butterfly thing I wrote several years ago (which at first I thought was The Sad Estate but turns out  it wasn't). So since I can't remember which blog post that is, I just totally surrendered with the idea of rummaging through my old notebooks and stuff (of which can be gruesome to think about since I have tons of journals and notes compiled throughout the years). Finally, I thought of searching through my wordpress blog and luckily I found it! (see link above)

Pardon (if ever you're reading my wordpress account), the bad editing and the crappy style of writing (geez, so that's what I was thinking 8 years ago? Seems scary! Yikes! I'm shrinking lol)

Reading my life's fairytale gives a smile to my face; realizing that the was the first time I've used the word butterfly as a metaphor. But it also gives this shudder of distaste since that piece was a complete fail with some scattered ideas forced to simmer with, of which I wasn't able to elaborate due to the fact that I was lacking of innate creativivity in fleshing out what I really wanted to say.

Disclaimer: The problem with forgetting is that you cannot leave everything behind.