Bel esprit

head down, while i watch my heart burying into my flesh and bones like a submarine, feeling low and crying under the immense mass of depression. misery swims to me and attacks me and intoxicates me as i see any sort of words exchanged by you two, however i see nothing but these words! you have no idea how frustrating it is for me to witness this, shouldn’t i already be used to it? maybe i have come to an understanding that i will never be able to free myself from this labrynth and maybe i’ve learned from the cold biting into my skin of these stabbing red walls, how to grasp air from the central of my body while still living inside this chamber.

the difficulty is unbearable, trying to steady my feet on the ground when it feels like i have already inhaled cigarettes of bitterness and the smoke is surrounding me, permanently staining my white shirt. it is not enough of a reason that i love you that i must withstand this forceful pain stabbing at me from every angle every time, maybe it’s time i really do let go.

i am so afraid of being nothing more than a memory, then half a memory; and eventually, nothing at all. not even a single thought.

내 마음이 아파, 아주 많이 아파.

intelligence
talent
depression
creativity

“sometimes your father and i dress up like everyday people with cheap clothing and bare faces; and we drive around foreign areas. we make conversation with strangers, just to listen to what they have to say. it’s nice to get away from people who constantly think of us as so superior when we’re really not, it’s nice to be unknown and unimportant.”

she fills artisan vases with her empty sorrows and often trails to the river to drain them all out. she has a certain demeanor and wears an innocent white veil, but her words are poison to people; they are murderous and they lust for skulls to tear. she claims to have ambitions for the near future but so far, i am seeing non-existent dreams deteriorating into the dead soil where all the venomous snakes lay, where all these snakes devour anything that comes within sniffing distance. i believe she is weary, wearing skin so soft and dove-like when she lives to restrain herself into becoming something more powerful, more rotten, more horrifying and scaly. oh, and her language! the language she speaks does not seem to suit her very well — her gentle whispers spit bitterness and she must cease the noticeable wavers every single time. i wonder what she is hiding.

my tolerance level has started to simmer to a minimum and all these reckless insults are starting to vex me. not hurt me, vex me.

art seldom comes from happiness

i’m crushed now more than ever and i feel as if i’ve just been rejected by seventy princes — no, seventy peasants. i’m crawling on my knees; with my cheap, rented crown already splashed to the ground, almost whimpering out for a simple thought of reconsideration. perhaps if i just confessed… no, telling you my feelings would be digging my own grave. i can’t do that,  not to you, not to myself, not to this so-called friendship. i will simply endure a few more years of this confusion and perplexing frustrations, and hopefully we would have closure by that time.

but i do hope you know: the day my heart stops fluttering passionately at the single thought of you, will be the same day my heart stops beating. even when i’ve shared my grey hairs and wrinkly smiles with another man, i swear my name to this; you will never be forgotten.

The 365 day challenge is not an excuse to post a picture of yourself every day….. One of my biggest pet peeves ahhh

i am far too sick
to be wrapped
in pretty pieces of fabric

i am far too weak
to feel protected and cozy
in milk-coloured lace
and baby blue shorts

It swims and rests in your flesh, your veins, digging deep into the most vulnerable bone in your body. We have all heard of the poisonous curse that races through the hearts of young sweethearts; and me, I am paving my own road with deliberation and foresight, for I’ve always been told that this curse is not uncommon in young lovers.

for an old summer crush, you took me to my very first abandoned lake and didn’t mind that i only held your hand. despite the fact that we were both so deep in the woods that we ended up getting lost until the clouds disappeared and the sky turned a shady tint of dark blue, i shared memories with you that night which i could never forget. and i remember, we found our way back into the cricket-infested cottage together with my fingers still swimming somewhere in your palm; and we just watched the world in its most peaceful mood. hours later, out of curiosity and lack of sleep, we snuck down the stairs early in the morning and stole a can of beer from a cabinet just to see how it tasted like.

and here, i realized you were the rebel best friend i’ve always wanted, i understood that your spontaneity and ambition for the wildest things were what made me care for you so much.

do you remember any of this?

Versions of eternal bliss are different to different people. To some, it may be sleeping and dreaming a thousand sweet dreams, reliving every candy-coated experience they have cultivated before death. And to others, the simple notion of hell is their own idea of heaven.

ceciwits:

Hail Mary,

Full of Grace,

The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou among women,

and blessed is the fruit

of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary,

Mother of God,

pray for us sinners now,

and at the hour of death.

Amen.

Seeing couples at the mall and whispering to your friend, “I bet they have a great sex life”.

“just follow me”, you say. and so i did, for twenty-three consecutive months. the only thing on my mind at this moment is the fact that these months are only piling up, as well as our bickering and eye rolls. is it really my fault this time? is it? perhaps this burden should just crumple up like a blank piece of wasted white paper and be thrown into my throat like a trash can. perhaps this guilt in me, the massive rock in my neck that stops me from crying out, is trying to free itself from the fossil chains of a slave; similarly to myself.

can you see my eyes becoming duller? it is because i am growing bitter. i’m here, looking at your reflection and not mine. i am on the other side of your golden mirror and i see your weakness although i cannot fight against that, simply because.. i love you. yes, i love you. there, i said it.

Maybe I have a prominent traditional type of beauty that only elders of much greater generations notice, but you always seem to compliment my shade of somewhat fair skin and you look at me the way my grandmother used to look at me. You are sisters looking almost identical, except for the fact that she who’s lived many years less also has less of a gentle aura. Sometimes I want to break down when I’m looking directly at you because you emphasize such a depressing memory of my grandmother; and that is, that I never gave her enough appreciation to begin with.

He was born and is to die with a strong endowment of vanity; vanity of person and of situation. He is the type of lad they cannot help but to describe as the “ugly duckling”, the one remarkably small and unappealing in his babyhood; and at only thirteen, grew to be a very captivating individual. He considers the praise of physical beauty as superior as the quenching temptation of lust; the females who chased after factors like so were constant motives of his warmest sentiment and devotion.

Bewitching good looks and a rank above everyone else would fundamentally come with one “fair” claim on his supplement. And this is, acquiring a fine, first-class lady to call his own.

I suppose that’s only a judgment made from our side. But I wonder, I really do.

She is half-deaf, but the only thing she can hear from the other side of the hall is music coming from this dark computer room.

Our bodies have never met and although we always seem to be on different sides of the room, your eyes grip onto mine like the thick, rusty chains of a first degree murderer in prison. Your face holds such strong implications of charm and enchantment, but above all, you shed some gentle intensity that forces me to imagine marrying a man like you. As whimsical and blind it may sound, I have visioned you in my far future more than a dozen times, hopefully as the main component.