I guess, 98% percent of songs in my playlist are by Boyce Avenue. :)
kasi minsan parang ang sarap din sa pakiramdam na medyo tahimik sa dash. kasi kapag ganitong oras lumalabas yung mga blogger na emo
Mga nababasa ko lang din yan. Ina-apply ko lang. Sayang eh. Hahaha. Pero thank you, anon :)
Writing has also its limitations.
Yes, for it has something to do with your interaction to your readers. Writing through your heart is yet the best way of expressing yourself. This is where you could put yourself into something abstract, and be nailed in a room full of words. Nonetheless, it could also be an escape. Like when you scribble your thoughts, you could barely distance yourself to something that knocks you off to where you’re supposed to be.
Limitations, if elaborated, refers to the complexity of thoughts you’re sharing. It is how one uses metaphors in a way that is more understandable by audiences. Abstain from using too much aphorisms that might confuse readers. But if can’t be avoided, try to use them in a manner wherein you think they could understand between the lines through context clues. Writers do always love to be praised, but not to be critiqued.
Everyone could be a writer, and explore the art of fathoming thoughts into stupendous outputs. But one should bear in my mind that not everything is unbounded and limitless.
Simply because writing has also its limitations.
Dear girls, kung wala kayong planong i-entertain ang feelings ng isang lalaki para sa inyo, deretsuhin niyo na kagad na ayaw niyo. Wag niyo nang paasahin pa. Okay?
my heart utters
more than a thousand
but how come
i couldn’t admit
this simple truth about
you being the
I’ve been into serious feelings and enormous emotions that it almost lapsed over me. Sort of idiotic how notable it was to have paramount feels with a certain person, but it feels like it isn’t just enough. Infatuation as it may seem, but ironic how mere it is that I assumed over an unassured shit. I’ve put myself into a boiling absence of sensitivity about myself, and I’ve gotten used to it unfortunately.
I was swallowed by my own fantasies.
When was the last time you cried? The moment when you burst yourself into quite scornful tears and found yourself cracked into believing that things were alright. When it seemed you’d drought yourself up for the sake of something uncertain. Incospicuous thoughts about your madly-wanted bliss kept on disturbing your innocency, and yet leaving you fallaciously wounded.
When was the last time you laughed? The moment you guffawed through hilarious-meant jokes, and ridiculous humors. When you smiled because someone just made something special, and you’re sort of bamboozled with this temporary happiness. When it seemed like there’s no tomorrow to come, and you kept smiling and laughing becase you’re into thinking that every second of your life counts.
Two kinds of emotions, with absolutely different contexts. And so I am asking you. When was the last time you cried? Or laughed, either?
why is everybody starts
to deprive me with
sudden joyous thoughts
pampering my earthly
happiness and bliss
enthroning me some
direful awe or should
i say — dreadlock?
Just like everyone in here, you’ll forget me and shatter me into some sort of incognizant matter. Perhaps you’ll claim that you’re not like them, who used to embrace me with half-lied promises, and filthy vows of distress. But I swear to the gods you’ll gonna prove yourself wrong. I used to read your absurd metaphors, and find myself startled for not having able to stricken myself with correct interpretations of your unexplained reasons.
Of course, I tried. But neither my fooled heart nor my inexplicable feelings could penetrate what’s going on with you.
Just seeing the appearance of a lovely rainbow after a legitimate flow of hefty rain outside makes me more in love with the life I’m living right now. Because for once, I know that I’m not forgotten. I could escape oblivion from where it has to jail me with bodiless purposes and ethereal glances. From up there, I could see the flickering colors of the rainbow, guarding me from whatever is there to chase me unmercifully. It is the eye the tells me to withhold my obscure doubts and thump them astray.
And yes, I thank the rainbows. For keeping me safe, and for never abstaining to keep a constant colloquy between me and my fast-pacing shits.
I woke up with freckles in my cheeks, and scars in my entire face. I slept last night with filthy ashes of yesterday, hoping for a smooth personage tomorrow with no filthier marks. But I just failed. I feel like there’s nothing happened. Still, I’m grateful. For I am still here, reincarnated with new life, despite how lunatic I just did yesterday. And yes, mornings don’t fail to make me happy. Thank God!