it's getting harder and harder everyday.... 

i can't hold on to you anymore than i already have.  

- c.

tea. tea. and tea.

when a long night awaits me, this is my company. a healer of all things. my mind, my soul, my body. so comforting when i have a load of work to do and cannot afford sleep. 

thinking of you, constantly. 

-c. 

come home skinny love.

my productivity level is at it's peak. though i'm constantly being distracted by stupid things. like my callous on my ring finger. or his pants today? or my tongue having the aftertaste of bitter cranberry juice. 

life. what do i make of it? what do you make of it? what do you do everyday that makes you realize that life shouldn't be taken for granted? 

swayze passing away today made me reflect on that for a couple of seconds. i was eating a buttery croissant and burning my tongue on a scolding caffeine trip, and it just occurred to me that he's gone. so many people are gone. this year has been filled with bad news after bad news in the media. when are things going to fall in it's place? what is this telling us? a string of misfortune after another, repeating itself. around and around. 

make life worth living. tell people you love and appreciate them. think about the wind messing up your hair, and losing your breath everytime you talk to that boy you completely adore. how you were singing funny songs with a funny boy the whole ride home, or stepping on some dirty sidewalk gum, but still feeling okay about it. still having some dignity because well, it could be worse. 

scrape it off, and keep moving. the best moments of your life may be right in front of you, and you're too worried about the insignificant conflicts when it can all, be, resolved. by a new day... by a new perspective... the next time you have a wonderful breakfast, or when all the lights are turning green, or when you walk with that boy you like. 

appreciate all the moments that you'll never be able to get back. and when you're feeling blue or so small in the universe, refer back to all of these little times in your life where you're face hurt from smiling. or when you sort of laughed to yourself when you thought of something funny and everyone stared. think of the awkward times and turn them into funny, awkward stories. 

never forget that life's too short to dwell on the past, to feed off anger and sadness. human nature forces us to hold grudges, to stay mad until we get what we want. but what good does that do? nothing to anyone, and certainly nothing to ourselves. live. just shut up and live. 

{bon iver - skinny love.}

wonderful encounters.

met a boy on my bus today that loves flight of the conchords just as much as i do, and can recite all of their songs by heart. in which we sang, together, on the bus ride home. nice to have met yet another man that has excellent taste in comedy folk rap duos. it's always a pleasure. 

- c.

l'orange.

"... to attempt to impose upon man, a creature of growth and capable of sweetness, to ooze juicily at the last round the bearded lips of God, to attempt to impose, I say, laws and conditions appropriate to a mechanical creation, against this I raise my swords pen."

today: exceptionally productive. how'd that happen? 

- c.  

this norwegian boy

completes me. sondre lerche. his voice is like butter. 

- c. 

alone, but not for long.

i must rest. the hours keep passing by like minutes. i can't help but think of you all the time. i'm beginning to wonder if this getting over you process is just a waste. it's just me being in denial. it's me saying in my head, "i don't like you, i don't like you" over and over again when really, i do like you. there's no hiding from it. i may be frustrated, and confused, and annoyed by how you still haven't made any moves, but it doesn't mean i don't like you. 

i can't act angry. i can't act like i'm done with you. and the only way to approach the situation is just let things fall in to place. let the universe work it's way into this imperceptibly unstable romance happening between us. if it's mean to be, it is. and we won't think about "if it isn't." 

crossing my fingers. hoping for the best.

- c. 

love writes a letter and sends it to hate.

van gogh. 

- c. 

je t'aime.

music provides the filling to the empty void that is my jelly donut heart. 

- c. 

redhead.

wish i was one. 

- c. 

selective wishing.

one day, i will find myself a cheap unbroken film camera lying under a pile of leaves in the middle of autumn. i'll be walking through a park on a busy sunday in the earliest break of afternoon, with a big knitted scarf around my neck, and a patterned sweater i bought at the thrift store for $4.59. dark jeans that i haven't washed in weeks, and a pair of sneakers with the sight of past adventures on it's exterior. it's windy, and cold, but as i am, dressed accordingly, i'll be snug. i'll have a book in my hand, and a messenger bag over my shoulder. i'll wander around, thinking about the current boy of the month i've had my eye on, watch children laughing, see an old couple sitting on a bench locking arms as i pass by, and young lovers on the opposite side kissing and touching, embracing love. i look at the sky; clouds, everywhere. and me, with nothing better to do but to contemplate, situate, and read. i find an empty bench, and begin me-time. 

then, at that moment, my eyes will wander off the page, and see a string sticking out of the small heaping load of assorted colored leaves next to me. the browns, the yellows, the reds, small hints of dirt, encompassing my soon to be treasure. i sweep them off, and find this. this camera. still fully intact, the lens not broken, scratches here and there, actually, everywhere, but no battery, and no film. 

but i still smile, so big, and so bright, and walk my way to the nearest drug store, and buy a couple of triple a's, and a roll of film. it will be a good day.

- c. 

dreaming of revelry.

jackson pollock. 

- c. 

- c. 

fortunate men only.

lazy days. everything is a haze.

deliver the past through the streaming dreams of fate's warnings. 

get my mind off the present, 

of the boy's face delibartely on repeat. 

today, i searched for a freckle on your face. but i don't think you noticed.

you never do notice. 

but i still like you, and i still crave for your attention. 

but we're different, on the spectrum of emotional stability. 

me, being the at the end, where crying is a natural born ability. 

and you, at the beginning, where you are solid, and pure. 

where your life is planned out for you. 

but you want to be free... and why don't you? 

why tolerate the restrictions of what you love? 

but who am i to judge, 

a boy so oblivious and wonderful.

i see you across the room, staring when you're looking down. 

every thought that comes to my head is nothing but adoration. 

nothing but half driven smiles, twinkling hearts throbbing through my pupils. 

i want to know you. 

i want to know your secrets, your passions, your guilts. 

your doubts, your hidden pleasures, your favorite knitted quilts. 

your favorite thing to eat or the way you twirl spaghetti, your best dance moves or who you think is pretty. 

what do you adore? what do you crave? 

is it a person, or is it freedom? 

or is it both.... and is it me? 

if only you knew how often i think about you. 

but would you ever think of me? 

- c. 

fact.

so brilliant. so what i'm currently feeling. most men are clueless. they will never know how you feel based merely on facial expression and body language. they will have no idea you may like them unless you blatantly shout it in their face. i wish you men could understand us. we're more than just a few pages you can study for. you need to pay attention... you are sometimes so consumed with your life, you don't see what's standing right in front of you. 

- c. 

"genius is born – not paid."

oscar wilde knows what he's talking about .


- c.

baby's hands.

the left is much better than the right. found this on my computer from last year. not bad for being a complete amateur. i've already expressed this to a random boy in my english class, but i really want to learn how to draw well. it's one of my dreams to be able to establish myself through art. i'd like to take a drawing class sometime soon. unless someone would be wonderful enough to teach me. 

- c. 

i wish that i could make you turn around.

yesterday was too emotional and almost too embarrassing to talk about. crying in public places makes me uneasy. it's not my right to cry in front of peers or strangers or friends. when i feel that way, i want it to be by myself. somewhere quiet, where the noise doesn't hinder my own thoughts and contemplation, where i can wipe my tears, and not be afraid of who sees me. but it happens. 

i wonder what you would've done if you saw my face covered in tears, my eyes puffy and sullen, my weeps pinching the heart, the bone, every part of you, dragged to the ground. what would've you done if you saw me like this? disheveled, residue of mascara stained below my eyes, above the cheeks, messy, flustered and flawed on every level? would you comfort me? would you still like me? would you hold my hand and tell me all will be okay? or would you walk away, and stare. only hoping that things will heal itself... even if you know all of it may be because of you.  because you don't want to make it worse. 

i need a boy that can love me with every part of his heart. i need to fit somewhere close, somewhere safe. i need to feel like if i were hurt, or crying, he would be there. he would make me feel like the universe wasn't so vast, and the world wasn't spinning so loudly. the depiction of him versus reality, seem to have nothing in common. and i wish this boy, this boy i'm falling so deeply for, is the expectation i've always seen in him. all the potential, his hand clasped in mind, his eyes, looking at me. his smile, because of me. this complete adoration stems from his quirk, his wet, his maturity, his intelligence... but can he love? 

we'll just have to see. 

- c. 

hello hello.

i've been wanting to make a blogspot all summer. 

and here we are, in september. 

finally here, finally here. 

more seclusion, more devotion. words i can't be afraid of. 

i hope i don't publicise this too much. 

since i'm absent of a camera, i'd like to dedicate this blog to more words. more words than sound, or photograph. more spilling, rather than spreading. more venting, rather than complaining. overtime, reinvention should take it's place. 

life, that is, is life. there is no other way to explain it. 

- c.