unstable kind of happy

"there are two tragedies of life. one is to lose your heart's desire and the other one, to gain it."
--- george bernard shaw

the past days i've been depressed. if ever there was a time i wore rose-colored spectacles, the recent times certainly mutated them into ray bans. now, it's almost magical how my temperament has changed because of a few moments that made me feel this soft feeling inside. it's very much like how an ice cream sundae melts in the innards.

i'm as giddy as a race horse now. my nerves get weak whenever i think of what transpired this early evening. i guess it's also good to live in the moment and not fuss unnecessarily over what the future holds. yeah?

hmm... is it really a tragedy? maybe it is. in the good three-fourths of my life, it's all been about the inability. i pray that in this episode, i get to taste the different brand of "devastation".

give me my hear's desire. give me tragedy.

bottled monologues - series 11

you,

i wonder if you notice. notice that each time we talk, i memorize every inch of your face. notice every imperfection, every curve, every wrinkle, every part of you that gives a form to the person who drugs me with a sensation i can't get enough of.

i wonder if you sense. sense that whenever i look into your eyes, i get drowned in the illusion that only you and i make the world go 'round. sense that i'm not just after who you are but also the things that you are not. sense that despite the nicotine aroma, the scent of your body permeates into me.

i wonder if you feel. feel that whenever my fingers touch your skin, it takes every amount of courage i have to do so. feel that every time i'm beside you i get the impulse of shouting to every one that you look incredulously gorgerous wearing those make-pretend reading glasses.

i wonder if you hear. hear the effect your patented laugh has on me. hear the nervousness brewing inside me every time you say something to me.

i wonder if you know. know that you've made two days in a week worth looking forward to.

i wonder about a lot of things. i wonder how you turned out to be wonderful to me... nah, i'm sure why.

me

comments-conscious scribbler

"the right to speak up doesn't come with the assurance that you'll be listened to."
--- anonymous

ok. so there's one strong factor why i don't post whenever i feel like it. aside from the real facts that my schedule forbids me, that my writing gets dried up at times, that i'm feeling either too happy or too gloomy to write, that i'm too impoverished for using up my internet account...

i also don't post when i see that no one bothered to comment.

i dunno. to me it's just like talking and yakking your throat out then everyone just ignores you. yeah, i'm an attention-whore and this attention-whore is on his knees begging for feedback, kneeling down for reactions.

did i really say "whore"? lap dance, anyone?