i won tickets for Meredith and i can’t go.

bugger.

loved object

someone named Antonio tagged me in one of my old posts, of which i talked about Durrell’s Justine,
and my uncertainty on being faithful. this is a worse realisation for me because then, i’ve known me all along.

help me even if i dont deserve it

i’m so afraid of the moment when the ‘missing’ sets in.
it’s been a long time since i was in this much trouble.

there it is,

gone. it is just not okay to make a mistake when you hurt someone else as a consequence. this is not how liberalism works, but it’s how human beings tend to be. when you’ve finally got something good going for you, you have to fuck it up.

everything that was good was a result of your effort. you showed me what a beautiful picture love can be.
i wish i could be all that you wanted.

i’m sorry for all that i have done. you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.

i love you.

magic.

you got magic inside your fingertips

its leaking out all over my skin
everytime that i get close to you
your makin’ me weak with the way you
look through those eyes

And all i see is your face
all i need is your touch
wake me up with your lips
come at me from up above
i need you

where the light is.

be fair to to the one who loves you when you are down and out, when you are suffering, when you need reassurance, when you are plain, when you are in trauma and pain, and when you can’t pull yourself up anymore that one person accepts you and tells you, i love you all the same, and together you get back on your feet; i can support you if you would support me. be fair and just.

f.r. leavis

i’m not sure why but i’ve been lots of hits on my post of gia carangi. like suddenly there’s some sort of revival on her. like perhaps, everybody’s starting to care about a dead (but very admirable) supermodel because, in an enlightenment of mass thought, people once again realised that she is the epitome of fashion- what Dr. Leavis will term as low-brow.

i’m sorry. i’m just not sure why we have to study leavis and arnold and adorno and the frankfurt school and the likes when they will so obviously despise us for having bad cultural taste and being low class.

fools like me.

sometimes i like to lie in the dark, sing to myself and enjoy the absolute peace of silence- the quiet of a lonely paradox, of wanting yet rejecting, of being rational yet ultimately, insane. but then there comes the moment when your head is separate from your mind once again and you are faced with the decision to turn on the lights. in all pessimisim you muster the strength, flick the switch and you are immediately confronted with bright sparks that come from all over your memories of hurt and anguish at self-depreciation. and i wonder why i bother in the first place.

of glass.

i just read that actually, nobody really understands what glass is. it looks and feels like a solid but really has the molecule composition of a liquid. it is surely cheesy but, this bears a similarity to the individual person and i think nature just likes it this way- that we are all comparable regardless of what we are.

no matter how ‘feelings’ is an overused word, i cant stop discussing it. this urge to dissect the heart comes from the heart. it’s an innate longing to be 100% sure that we have what we need and we do not want anymore. sometimes ‘feelings’ waver like the wind. one day its here, and when you’re barely noticing it disappears but it’s really, really always there. personally i prefer a breeze. and understanding what glass really is.