im a/an optimist/pessimist --- doesnt matter.

im counting the days until the numbness subsides.
i feel so blissful with no apparent reason why.
my smile seems to grow wider by every passing minute,
the entirety of me is dancing in slow melody.

i always thought that life was this little ball in my hand, that i can choose whatever it is that i wanna do with it. i guess not. life is much much convulated than a mere ball in a child's hand. in fact, life is a vast of outlooks clashing one another. tribulations to be resolved and a lot silly fancy meetings. (insert love along the way.) i am a bitter soul when it comes to love. i hate love in so many ways that i dont know where to start condemning it. love has made me into a two-faced monster of odium and charm. in my past affairs, some went well and some did not. it's sad to have loved and not be loved in return; but then isnt love supposed to be unselfish? not asking anything in return? love aint seeking for fairness; because love itself isnt fair. it's ironic, really. to fall so deeply into such a lame hex and yet we end up entangled by our own curse. none can predict the triumph of any relationship but we do have our options.

and so, my affair seems to obscure every passing day; someone taught me optimism. hell yeah. i see everything in black and white now. and im trying very hard to see the shades of grey in between and if cant find it -- of what use is this dedication to continue. yes. i am fearful, very fearful of pain and if this is a mistake, let this be my blunder to feel sorry for myself. save my soul from false hopes and idiotic beliefs. if have to live this time alone, then much better! maybe i am seeking too much. maybe it is my liability but then again mr. horror is slowly eating my burning essense. it's not wrong to save myself from the lengthening damage. right?

sigh. so much for inscriptions. so much for happy thoughts, i tried so hard to write in the first few lines of these annotations. such a fickle-minded writer. all of sudden i feel the wretchedness in me again.

maybe, im not suppose to make a beautiful love story. maybe im suppose to live my being in a lonesome cage or some secret garden until some foolish traveller would stumble upon the key to open the gate and set my distrustful soul free. and then that silly traveller would hold my hand and dance with me amongst the weeds and thorns and together we'll rebuild that place into something it once had been. a magical place. and please. (no inserts of love along the way.)



HAPPY ENDINGS? SAPPY LOVE STORIES - NOT FOR ME.