never thought that I had anymore to give

Just when I thought I lost it.
blah.









truth is, i'd still have to. see how these corny things never work for me. pathetic. apathetic.

More than what it seems.

not familiar? haha go listen to some James Blunt.

I guess this would've have looked like a page out of his diary .

P.S. Good thing I avoid using the subways.

Flowers in the Park

I do love flowers, even if i never was a green-finger type.

Somebody should have warned me though.

Those Pretty flowers that I thought was nurtured to grow so prettily in the park

might have just turned out to be

Weeds.

Apparently I am a Commie Crackpot with No Heart

Funny how we can actually bury the living.
Mentally, that is.
And i'm not just talking about the people here, but places, faces, objects, feelings, you name it.
Whatever it is you want to bury,

1. just dig up a ditch,


2.toss the aforementioned subject and cover it up with dirt.



3. (optional) Maybe give it a nice pat with the shovel at the end. Plant some pretty flowers as commemoration.


Or


spit at it, as you like because, hey, hands down, you're the boss of your mind.

But that's gonna give you some legal issues say you're in one of those places where youre not allowed to spit. (but.. in your mind? hold on yeah i guess it's legal to imagine that you're spitting in your head. sounds rather dumb though, if you ask me)

Not trying to make any point here, Not trying to bring a message across to anyone.
No judgements, leave that to the qualified.

Just because I don't exactly talk about Magical Fairytales and things like Frumpshey and Schrumpy's Never Ending Tales of Happy Times in Wonderland does not mean I am depressed and I want to kill myself and oh GOSH someone SAVE ME.

I believe in faith hope love and all the things I've come to learn about as a little girl. Just because I don't expose my soul inside out to the whole wide world doesn't mean I'm some sort of Fool, Atheist, Commie Crackpot on Drugs.


Rest your minds in peace.
there are no clues here, I am not Zodiac the killer for goodness' sake.
I do not want to kill anyone and neither do I want to encrypt a secret delusional message to be scrutinised by the public.


It's just that Vague is apparently Vogue to me.


Chill off, all Sherlock Holmeses, 'ya'll crampin my style'.

CAUTION: I'm totally back into my writing mood. As for now.

Really, i'm full of Candy floss and stuff like this.

no, Really.

How can there be no story in the storybook?

We used to joke about this particular poem we had in Literature back in those days,

a very beautiful moving one full of imagery and depth. It was the one by Pablo Neruda called 'Tonight I Can Write'.

I suppose the equal of the poem, but one entitled 'Tonight I Cannot Write' would be a piece of blank paper with only the unfortunate title sitting alone to speak for itself, one line so insignificant and yet, still, so significant.

I suppose the last few months where I left this blog empty can therefore be considered the masterpiece that I have written and left sitting alone to speak for itself. So insignificant and yet, still, so significant.

"..and the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture" -P.N.