Thursday, September 28, 2006
Holiday!
It's five days of holiday n seems like I've never been this happy ever before. Five whole days to myself. Reading, blogging, sneaking into other peoples blogs, sleeping, and working at my pace, beautifying myself, cutting from old newspapers and filling my scrapbook, doing up my wall. Joy it will be. Five whole days of it.......
Sunday, September 24, 2006
***********
All her life she wished the words would come. She waited, dreamt of it. Bought pretty notebooks, every size. She had every size. White paper, recycled paper, all of it.
But somehow the words never came. Once in a while yes but not really.
Finally she writes. She writes. And no she never writes in those pretty notebooks. She writes. Anonymously. For herself. She wishes to pen down her life, her story. Not really wanting to share it with somebody and it's not for the fear of not being understood, it's just that theres no need. But somehow now from some corner of her heart creeps up the desire that somebody would read.
But somehow the words never came. Once in a while yes but not really.
Finally she writes. She writes. And no she never writes in those pretty notebooks. She writes. Anonymously. For herself. She wishes to pen down her life, her story. Not really wanting to share it with somebody and it's not for the fear of not being understood, it's just that theres no need. But somehow now from some corner of her heart creeps up the desire that somebody would read.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Am I your angel?
This is just for the record. My giraffe is not in love with the buffalo, it was always the deer. Always. And I hadn't a clue. Nature playing tricks at it's best.
Like somebody (haven't figured out a name for those who are'nt friends but yet close) says if there was something called jurisprudence of love, I'd make it real big, so I thought I'd pen down a few thoughts.
You don't love me. Not complaining. Really. Tears don't mean that.
You probably never will. Not complaining. Really. Tears don't mean that.
But theres something that tells me that Im your angel. Love never goes waste you see. I pray you be happy, the deer is o.k. with me. Something tells me I give you strength, maybe remind you that it's a beautiful life. Something tells me that I'm your angel. That's what I want to be.
The heart feels beautiful, pure. It knows it's depth. Because of you. Like I said it is joy with tears. For some reason the heart believes that you think I'm beautiful and you think I'm your angel. And the heart believes that being somebodys angel brings more joy than being somebodys world. I just wish the tears would stop.
Like somebody (haven't figured out a name for those who are'nt friends but yet close) says if there was something called jurisprudence of love, I'd make it real big, so I thought I'd pen down a few thoughts.
You don't love me. Not complaining. Really. Tears don't mean that.
You probably never will. Not complaining. Really. Tears don't mean that.
But theres something that tells me that Im your angel. Love never goes waste you see. I pray you be happy, the deer is o.k. with me. Something tells me I give you strength, maybe remind you that it's a beautiful life. Something tells me that I'm your angel. That's what I want to be.
The heart feels beautiful, pure. It knows it's depth. Because of you. Like I said it is joy with tears. For some reason the heart believes that you think I'm beautiful and you think I'm your angel. And the heart believes that being somebodys angel brings more joy than being somebodys world. I just wish the tears would stop.
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