About discontentment

She stood there, seeing her own life in pieces
In flashes, like a shadow dragged by misfortunes

She sat quietly, wondering what just happened
So quiet, that she could hear her own thoughts
Or not? Were they actually hers?
She didn't know
Competing a full-speed train, her mind rushed unwillingly fast

For every moments passed, she didn't know why she was here
Hollow, she was
And what could possibly be the meaning of life, but a passion to survive?

About everything in this blog

Brainiacs,

Don't try to decode whatever I write here. Sometimes I don't even know what it means. I do have to straighten things up a bit.

1. On the contrary of popular belief, my world doesn't revolve around me and as much as I hate to admit, I don't love myself that much. Everything in this blog ISN'T always about me. I try to be a little bit bogus-ish by sometimes assuming myself as another person, with a set of emotions, and write what I think as the person. So yes, that post about falling in love might not be about me falling in love. It might be about how someone feels when he/she is falling in love.

2. I try to keep things universal by not defining "you." In my posts, "you" could be a teddy bear, a book, a lover, the weather, etc. I have fun writing for different random objects and you should have fun imagining too.

3. Needless to say, *literally, I don't have anything here, I just put it so I have a good rendition of "three things that need attention," Rule-of-three rules! <--- oh that's redundant* I LOVE YOU. I know some people do read my blog *blush* even though they don't want to comment on the posts. You know what, I don't care. I write for the sake of my own satisfaction. Of course my satisfaction goes up if some people do appreciate what I write. Appreciation could be in the form of closeted readers, or not-so-closeted ones. I LOVE YOU ALL.

About the magic of three

Three times the charm
Next time we met, we could talk about the weather
Because last night was the third time, and nothing happened
If there was something, it was me
and my stupid forbearance

You might not remember the first and second time we met
It hadn't come to my attention before yesterday
But yesterday was different

And what makes it different now seems like nothing

Yes, next time we met, we could talk about the weather
You would not remember
Neither would I
about what happened the third time we met
The weather would be more interesting than any other matters
Just like strangers

I guess we would start all over again
From the weather, shall we?