Listening to: River flows in you
Yiruma

Man, woman. Hard, soft. Pain, pleasure. Sometimes we demand the right to be able to choose, and yet at other times, bemoan choices which have been made for us.

Love or friendship, money or quality of life, condoned routes or the path less taken. Sometimes, i cannot decide if i am taking myself for a walk to the last destination i would want to reach.

Excitement- I has it!

!!!

I'm in love! Yes, it's official! The exclamation marks prove my excitement over falling totally and utterly head over heels!!

The skies are bluer than ever and as i walk down the tiled walkways, a cool breeze ruffles my hair as i fantasize and mull over my love's perfectness.

The Bird Cage Faye from Lulu Guiness. Press her base tenderly and you'll hear her voice; audio birdsong plays out.

Faye, faye, you have undone me..

Just decided to pop in to see what i wrote all these months back.

Its strange that each time i come back after an absence, im genuinely surprised to see what has been written. Fine, i think my own posts can be lovely in their ways, much like how a parent will never recognise an ugly baby to be just that, ahah ha.

And then its sad that my own writings still seem to resonate so strongly within me. They remind me of how stagnant i am, and if i will remain this way forever. Sometimes the fact that heaven is, is a balm to me. If nothing soothes me, perhaps finally something might in the end, after all.

A friend of mine decided to say goodbye world in Swissotel, in february, and i never knew.. How ignorant we can be of people's private hell's. How sad that intelligence can do nothing to rationalise the soul and tide us over for that that little bit longer. Or does it just make it worse?
Someone else recently passed in tioman, and the only thought i had was that of her already shitty and unlucky life had to end in a shitty and unlucky way.

Wow, go me for churning out optimism *grins*

for no one in particular.

Listening to: this woman's work
Maxwell.

I want.
I want love in its most cliched form

I want tenderness, and that look in your eyes; as wind whips around and a lock of hair is gently brushed.
a parting of lips.
a warmth that takes my breath.
a softness that inflames.

I want aching.
an intenseness.
a passion that loses us in it's midst.

I want satiety.
a fullness that comes with laughter at the end of the day
a contentedness that comes as we wake in morning light
and comfort that allows us to just be.

I want an understanding.
That you're mine
and i'm yours.
Not because we have to,
or because there isn't anyone else;
But because you recognise in me love
and i in you my life.

I want.

Listening to: Aqualung

So if the world is made of omens, and directions and a god, i'll follow; I've followed, and taken notes and..asked.

Then what you ask for is given, and you laugh and smile to yourself, never imagining it would come true. And when you have it.. Huh. What is it about humans that make us wander, and look for the best that life has to offer. Who are we to judge what is the best we should have? That what is gifted to us, is not as precious as its gift wrapped lustre?

What is it that makes us continually look back; what is it that makes us crave, and wonder about what we could have had?

How bereft do we have to be, to truly want what we have?

when was the last time you lost yourself in anothers eyes and seen the same unfold for you?
I swear ive never seen anything as pretty. no, not quite as pretty as you.

You know that experience.
a taste thats so new to you,
and so very exotic
you cant believe you ever passed it by
not when it sends you shocks of shivers everytime you glimpse it, taste it.
The promise never ends
i would lick e.v.e.r.y scrap of your dredges
as i would let you bleed me
your delight, my satiety.

but baby..
it's not enough.
no, not quite enough.

its sad when you have ended things, because you wanted the real deal,
because you thought you deserved better
but its sadder when you know you have it in the palms of clasped hands
and you know you deserve better so you end things.

you float me, baby.

listening to: pure heart of a dancer o.s.t

Why do my posts always resound around the same theme?

Rationally, i offer the explanation of not wanting to mush around the tiresome sludge that is emotion to the ones around me. That it's not worth to talk about, for the simple reason that there are more.. conversation friendly topics that don't expose, lay bare, or simply make one look like a pathethic woman that women are supposed to be. You know.. where men laugh and say women are good for nothing but talks around the household, apron strings, fluffy visons of feminity. Unfortunately for me, i am that girl in one respect, and i know it full well. We all hide what we think of weaknessess, humans to the very last cell.

Love is my religion - I could die for it. ~John Keats