[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

There’s a lot of talk about me, people lining up to meet me. I’m on the verge of celebrity, so what you think about that? I’ve got friends in high places, Louis Vuitton suitcases. Look at all their pretty faces, so what you think about that.

But why do I feel like it’s all just a show?

I’m at a party in a mansion, there’s a lot of high fashion. And I’m cooler than I’ve ever been, so what you think about that? I’m livin life in a fast lane, I’ve got fridge full of champagne. And I’m hanging out with Lil’ Wayne, so what you think about that?

I can try real hard, I can try to pretend. That all these dreams make any sense, without you. But that’s just ain’t true. I thought these things would make me forget, about you and me. But you’re stuck in my head, I’m a loser, if I lose her.

You make me wanna shut it all down, throw it all away. Because I’m nothing if I don’t have you. What’s the point of being on top, all this money in the world. If I can’t blow it all on you? So, send the cars back, put the house on the market, and my big dreams, too. Because it’s all so clear, that without you here, I’m the loser of the year.

(Source: pseudoperfection)

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

There’s a lot of talk about me, people lining up to meet me. I’m on the verge of celebrity, so what you think about that? I’ve got friends in high places, Louis Vuitton suitcases. Look at all their pretty faces, so what you think about that.

But why do I feel like it’s all just a show?

I’m at a party in a mansion, there’s a lot of high fashion. And I’m cooler than I’ve ever been, so what you think about that? I’m livin life in a fast lane, I’ve got fridge full of champagne. And I’m hanging out with Lil’ Wayne, so what you think about that?

I can try real hard, I can try to pretend. That all these dreams make any sense, without you. But that’s just ain’t true. I thought these things would make me forget, about you and me. But you’re stuck in my head, I’m a loser, if I lose her.

You make me wanna shut it all down, throw it all away. Because I’m nothing if I don’t have you. What’s the point of being on top, all this money in the world. If I can’t blow it all on you? So, send the cars back, put the house on the market, and my big dreams, too. Because it’s all so clear, that without you here, I’m the loser of the year.

Fukc. I should’t have said that. I should have settled musing on ripples, breathe the breeze that causes it— meager, gentle and fleeting yet magical and significant enough to stir the soul. Glinting streaks of sunlight and refract them in queer degrees dancing as they find their way in my eyes, all the way to regions of my subconscious, that which romanticization resides. Why did I challenge your storytelling finesse,your irrevocable potential to sweep everything away, and touch everyone with your words rife with brazen beautiful sentiments. Or maybe settled over placid waters while I sat on the shore, waiting to be home, for the sunset, so I can write the stories I promised, and tag with photographs so you can feel what I felt, and see what I saw while I was away. Let you borrow my eyes, so you can see the haze that still iridescent in this idyllic city streets at eight am, and how the scene is like borrowed straight from an old film. Much like the streets of Vienna where Jesse and Celine wound in Before Sunrise. To let you see the palettes of colours that make their sunsets or the kind of flowers I’ll bring you from work, with ants in them, and maybe make you squeak when you open the front door for me, or the food that I ate there, their bland tastes overshadowing their fancy and overdone presentation. Sometimes it makes me even wonder if those beans and greens are edible. I want you to see them because I know you love to cook, and you wouldn’t, in a million years, overdo their facade, like steaks with oranges, or spaghetti with hotdogs. It ruins my appetite, makes me wanna puke than eat. I supposed to tell you this on the 15th right? this piece of writing is deviating again. I should have settled on my “I love you” like ripples, gentle yet significant and not point about you not writing me something. And now you just did, and you wrote me wave, mighty, motley and unprecedented. And now I’m floating with the board, in your vast sea of words, in your beautiful words which make me excited to brave and surf on first impression yet powerful enough to topple me over, upside down and all directions. But I am enjoying the ride, enjoying reading the unexpected. I miss this wave, I miss you. There’s no sad melodies now, bleak symphonies, no homesickness but sort of not. Your words, your presence, the whole you silenced the sad songs and sad melodies pervading and blaring just a little while ago.

I love you. And this time, I want it that way— plain, sincere and raw. I could have said things like I love you like streetlights bokeh, their shades of blues, greens, reds and yellows aesthetically overlapping each other. Their jagged contours, uneven and random but irresistibly magnetic to the eyes. Like blades of grass dancing in symphony. edges colliding by the morning breeze, a seasonal treat from any idyllic summer prairies. Or I love you like the smell of the rain, and the colours of the sky when the sun sets. I could’ve feigned like it appears crystal clear to me, versing it in thousand lines, million mushy cliches and ways as countless as the stars in all of cosmic dimensions. But the longer I sit down, organizing my thoughts and summon the perfect words the more I want to say less. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, you know. But I believe that feeling are best left undefined, unsorted and let it unravel through ephemeral rides. Because the mere thought of loving you in the absence of any logical conventions has me constantly fascinated. I love you. These three words carry an unprecedented intricacy, to add more is to mean less.

I love you, and those are the only words I can genuinely muster.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

And I’ve collected all these thoughts, and I’m dying just to lose them. And if your words are true or not, I’ll die trying to prove them. But I’ll just have to accept, that my mind is so inept. And the only thing that’s left, is for me to trust you.

Convince me, because I really need your help me. Oh convince me, because I can’t see this for myself. I’ll out the emphasis on the evidence, begging for the proof. Sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the truth.

This is so unnerving, I know you’ve never lied to me before. But the things you’re telling me, I can’t believe yet can’t ignore. But I’ll just have to accept, that my mind is so inept. And the only thing that’s left for me is trust you.

Put the emphasis on the evidence, begging for the proof. Sometimes the hardest thing to do believe is the truth. Attempt to place our lives into your hands, confide in what you’ll do, sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the truth.

It’s a world full of cynics, who say to stay alive in it. You gotta stick with what you know. But the soul is always aching, for the heart to start taking, a chance by letting go, so let go…

Sometimes, the hardest thing to believe is the truth.

Truth, Relient K

THE STIGMA OF ROMANTICS: SOMETIMES...

Sometimes, I don’t think Sol understand how much I love him. How the little jokes about building paddle boats is me trying to tell him that it’s not impossible, that this distance is vast, but I love him further than that. I’ll work hard until my bones wane, and I’ll fight hurricane storms, and I’ll laugh while I’m doing it, because he’s there and laughing is the best thing you can do. You have to enjoy it, even when the weather turns. Hope borderlines the horizon, it rests and nestles where he is and I can see him, my love, my sun, striking through the blue morning, beckoning me to come. To hurry. To buy non-stop flights with the little money I have. Maybe he won’t believe me until I’m there, he won’t see how I see him until he reflects in my eyes. I’m not good at proving things, I can only hope he believes me, and hope he realizes that I don’t love fleetingly, nor find solace in the defeatist thought of impossibility. I’ll do my best ‘til I have nothing left to give. For him, irrevocably so.

(Source: my-dear-haphephobic-heart)

“I love you, more than I should, I think. Always more than I intended to. I flinch when I think about it, like I’m touching a fire that burned out of control while I turned my attention away for a moment. That’s not a bad thing, I consider it a brilliant and amazing thing, a magnificent and terrifying thing. There’s no buts in that, no second-thought contemplations. It’s how it is, and I like it that way. I’ll try and find better words one day, bigger and more beautiful, and I’ll arrange them with perfect rhythm. I just hope you can put up with me until then, hope you can find charm in the awkward and incessant way I ramble, especially when I’m trying to explain myself and how I feel, and what I think. I hope you are amused and love the way that I’m absolutely terrible with words.”

Thinking of shipping these all the way to Australia, someone has a sweet tongue there, happens to be very dear to me. But maybe they wouldn’t make it to her door, if ever they do, maybe they’re ruined or something like that.

’-‘

(Source: pseudoperfection)