We're going to Langkawi tomorrow. I don't know whether or not I should be happy. I'm not that into... leaving the house and going places... and stuff. Not that I'm anti-social, of course. I mean, okay, a BIT anti-social, but... yeah, okay, y'know what? Whatever. DROPPING the subject.
Haha.
I'm listening to Snow Patrol's "Run" right now; and I must say, the song is very nice. Not the chorus as much, of course, but I love the mood in which the singer puts it. Its, like, sad and hopeful and... hopeless at the same time. I imagine the atmosphere in terms of "before parting". Its beautiful, really.
Which brings me to my topic of discussion for today (omg. she has TOPICS now?!):
Music.
I know how some people love the tune of the melody. The keys used. Perhaps even the type of music playing. The lyrics. The band/singer.
-but for me?
Its all about the story.
The story woven by a particular song is what fascinates me -- draws me in and make me melt.
What I mean to say is; the whole package in general. The voice of the singer gives tone; depth. Lyrics draw the scene; the expression of the characters. The melody/tune denotes the atmosphere -- the mood in that particular moment.
All in all, this song, "Run", draws (in my conclusion anyways) a very beautiful story.
I can imagine the main characters crying. Reminiscing. Embracing. Falling apart. Breaking.
Good stuff.
Music to me does not mean life. It does not mean, in my opinion, there is no life without music.
It just means life without the presence of music would be an unusual one. Perfect. Neutral. Boring.
Music to me is an expression. A feeling. Sensations. Whether one chooses to express such feelings by belching it out; screaming it out; rapping about it; drawling over it... that paints the picture. Makes the listener UNDERSTAND and RELATE.
See, thats why I don't have a favorite genre of music. Am not particular of bands and singers and whatnot.
I love music. Music itself.
For music, you see; is passion.
It doesn't matter how bad you sing; how horrible you play -- if you have a feeling, express it. Don't let anybody stop you because no two songs are the same. No one song, even though re-sung by two different singers; paints the same picture.
Therefore,
I guess what I'm trying to say here is:
Inject music into your veins. Your body. Your entire soul.
Taste the passion.
Numerology
After stomping around, shaking off my sudden, unexplainable surge of anger; I was bored and was surfing the web. Lo and behold, people: I found myself, face-to-screen with this awesome thing called, numerology!
Its wicked cool.
They did this survey of my full name and I got this awesome in-depth result of my expression (which is, like, my unique out-take on the world and what I feel I must do as long as I'm still here), my soul urge (which is, like, the one thing in my heart and soul desperately yearns for; though nobody would actually know it) and, finally, my personality (which is how other people see me.
Coolio, right?
I've got my results right here, too! Check it:
Expression: 105 / 6
Family and home life are your main interests. You know how to nurture and accept anyone, therefore, many are drawn to you including those that others call, "strays". You have an eye for anything beautiful and your home is sure to reflect this, no matter what your budget is. You are proud of all your possessions and especially of the talents of your family members. Your generous, creative nature makes you the ideal host or guest at a party.
Soul Urge: 30 / 3
Your urge is to bring hope, joy and beauty to all you meet. You feel the best when you are in beautiful and comfortable surroundings. You have a creative essence and use your inspiration and imagination to make others happy. You enjoy attention and admiration, and you desire recognition for your talents.
Personality: 75 / 12 / 3
There seems to be a golden glow of optimism and joy around you wherever you go. You are witty and playful, and your idealistic nature irresistibly draws the little child out of everyone you meet. Ever creative and interesting to talk to, you are never long without people to cluster around your radiance. You enjoy dressing up and are very creative with accessories. You've got a style all your own, even if you don't follow fashion.
----
also, I did this birth purpose numerology test -- in which they had surveyed my birthdate. Not to say, of course, that I believe in all this phooey-balooey stuff totally 100%, but, definitely; it WAS interesting.
Sad to say, though; for both my results (my name survey and birth survey), I was not as impressed as I would like to have been. I mean, I always hoped I was destined for greater thing -- WORLDLY things, y'know? But based on the results, it seems: I'm just this homebody type person; who's main priority is merely family and friends.
Check it:
Fairness, compassion and comfort are the gifts you are here to bestow. Those needing care and nurturing will naturally be drawn to you. Whether it be human or animal it is your destiny to empathize, heal and resolve conflict. You have all of the tools to make your world a more beautiful and loving place. Domestic responsibility, aesthetic arts, and fair judgment are some of the qualities you are here to express.
As the higher octave of the number 6, "master number" 33 is the number of compassion. It is called the Christ vibration and requires self-sacrifice, courage and unwavering commitment to reform , truth and healing. You are on a "mission", and other teachers will learn from your honesty, discipline and bravery. You are here to provide sustenance for the hungry, whether it be through food, beauty, education, ministry or medicine. Yours is the path of "savior".
"Togetherness" is the theme of this cycle. You are unlikely to be alone because this is a phase of your life when partnership and sensitivity are being mastered. You are a natural networker - matching up friends with the things they need and it's the simple, yet precious joys in life that matter to you now. People, emotional connections and cooperative efforts are your priorities.
----
I checked some of my friends and family members numerology out, too. Won't tell you the results, of course (they may want to keep it a secret!), but... I will say this:
their birth purposes, expressions and soul urge seem a WHOLE lot better than MINE ever did.
(like, sob, much?)
Its wicked cool.
They did this survey of my full name and I got this awesome in-depth result of my expression (which is, like, my unique out-take on the world and what I feel I must do as long as I'm still here), my soul urge (which is, like, the one thing in my heart and soul desperately yearns for; though nobody would actually know it) and, finally, my personality (which is how other people see me.
Coolio, right?
I've got my results right here, too! Check it:
Expression: 105 / 6
Family and home life are your main interests. You know how to nurture and accept anyone, therefore, many are drawn to you including those that others call, "strays". You have an eye for anything beautiful and your home is sure to reflect this, no matter what your budget is. You are proud of all your possessions and especially of the talents of your family members. Your generous, creative nature makes you the ideal host or guest at a party.
Soul Urge: 30 / 3
Your urge is to bring hope, joy and beauty to all you meet. You feel the best when you are in beautiful and comfortable surroundings. You have a creative essence and use your inspiration and imagination to make others happy. You enjoy attention and admiration, and you desire recognition for your talents.
Personality: 75 / 12 / 3
There seems to be a golden glow of optimism and joy around you wherever you go. You are witty and playful, and your idealistic nature irresistibly draws the little child out of everyone you meet. Ever creative and interesting to talk to, you are never long without people to cluster around your radiance. You enjoy dressing up and are very creative with accessories. You've got a style all your own, even if you don't follow fashion.
----
also, I did this birth purpose numerology test -- in which they had surveyed my birthdate. Not to say, of course, that I believe in all this phooey-balooey stuff totally 100%, but, definitely; it WAS interesting.
Sad to say, though; for both my results (my name survey and birth survey), I was not as impressed as I would like to have been. I mean, I always hoped I was destined for greater thing -- WORLDLY things, y'know? But based on the results, it seems: I'm just this homebody type person; who's main priority is merely family and friends.
Check it:
Fairness, compassion and comfort are the gifts you are here to bestow. Those needing care and nurturing will naturally be drawn to you. Whether it be human or animal it is your destiny to empathize, heal and resolve conflict. You have all of the tools to make your world a more beautiful and loving place. Domestic responsibility, aesthetic arts, and fair judgment are some of the qualities you are here to express.
As the higher octave of the number 6, "master number" 33 is the number of compassion. It is called the Christ vibration and requires self-sacrifice, courage and unwavering commitment to reform , truth and healing. You are on a "mission", and other teachers will learn from your honesty, discipline and bravery. You are here to provide sustenance for the hungry, whether it be through food, beauty, education, ministry or medicine. Yours is the path of "savior".
The Life Path is divided into 3 great cycles, each governing us for specific durations throughout our life. The Seed Cycle begins at birth and colors our experiences through childhood and adolescence. During the year nearest our 28th birthday, we move into the Fruit Cycle which remains throughout the middle part of our life until the year nearest our 56th birthday, and the Harvest Cycle carries on from there. Taken all together, the Cycles show us the particular path, a sort of 'minor life path', that will lead to the fulfillment of our Life Purpose.
Seed Cycle: 7
When the 7 is the seed cycle, the child may spend much of their time alone, with their books and their ideas. Others may view them as unusual in some way. If encouraged and allowed, the 7 seed cycle can create a genius or child prodigy.
This cycle is about responsibility, duty, and serving one's fellow man. This nurturing is usually begun at home, as domesticity gives the 6 much pleasure. Beauty and harmony are sought and even fought for. The 6 may have a career as a decorator, beautician, chef, nurse or landscape architect. The most important thing during this cycle, however, is the maintaining of a happy and harmonious home life.
"Togetherness" is the theme of this cycle. You are unlikely to be alone because this is a phase of your life when partnership and sensitivity are being mastered. You are a natural networker - matching up friends with the things they need and it's the simple, yet precious joys in life that matter to you now. People, emotional connections and cooperative efforts are your priorities.
----
I checked some of my friends and family members numerology out, too. Won't tell you the results, of course (they may want to keep it a secret!), but... I will say this:
their birth purposes, expressions and soul urge seem a WHOLE lot better than MINE ever did.
(like, sob, much?)
My crazy attempt at love poetry: #2! I've been doing literature; studying texts and poems lately, so, me being me, I had to, at least, try my luck at it. Result? Failure. Complete, utter failure. I tried to make myself sound "mature", tried to inject myself with that sense of... age-old... antiquity... but, alas: the "s" in loser stands not for "success", but for "stupidity". How stupid am I to write something I have no understanding of? Something I have no passion for? The answer to that -- very. Haha.
I took pleasure,
first, in the way he held me
arms wrapping,
as if i was some sort of gift
meant for royalty
loved him
second,
in the way he would say my name,
tender lips grazing the soft edges
of my feverish cheeks,
long, graceful fingers
swooping my face upwards,
brushing me carefully,
as if i was some sort of great art
and he would hold me there
in his embrace.
with one look he made me
weaken, tumble and fall
flat on my back,
eyes wide,
breath short and ragged,
watching,
for he would look at me in that certain way
and there, he had it
had me,
all to himself
and he knew
(oh, yes. he was very certain)
That in those moments,
or whichever moments relevant,
i would allow it
allow anything
the breaking of my mind, my body
my soul.
i am not a gentle person,
not a leaf-lover or holder of hands,
am not romantic
will never be soft and sweet
like those precious girls
dressed in earthly feminity
and godly grace
but for him
for him,
i am willing
and i would allow it
for him,
i would be that porcelain doll
in the antique window
that porcelain doll i had
broken
many years ago.
him.
he was so much
while i was nothing.
he could walk bare-footed, eyes to the clouds
clothed in rag and dirt and grime
yet the stars would still shine upon him
and i would still watch,
through half-lidded eyes and tightly shut lips
the gentle wind caress his much-stroked face
the quite moon highlight his glowing eyes
as if i did not see them well enough
that disgusting, beautiful man
for he was a man
amongst boys and girls with their dolls
he was a man
amongst children and toys and sweets and smiles
he saw the world as what it was
had seen the grim
had tasted tears
he was well-worn
and often (for i am not ashamed to admit this)
i looked up to him
i wanted him
wanted him so badly,
but mostly?
i wanted to be him
i am a foolish, selfish little girl
a girl that would never understand the world through
a man’s eyes
through his eyes
for,
indeed,
he was a man.
he was a man among boys and girls and laughs and toys,
he was a man, even,
among men.
for,
as mentioned,
he had seen the world
for what it truly was
he saw me, once, too
from within his shadow
gave me one good, long look
and then...
turned away.
for,
like i’d said,
he is a man
and who am i to deny
the whim of such?
for i am but a girl
and as such,
have much left to see.
Flunk
Oh, before my whole emo post came along, I forgot to mention: I so flunked midterms. Golly, gee. Can't wait til finals, huh?
Help Me
I want you to think.
...
The next time you get into a car accident, I want you to think.
Who's life did you take? Which family member did you steal? How many lives are you affecting? How much sadness have you caused?
I am no saint.
I am a sinner (for who isn't) , and God, do I hate myself.
My greatest evil is rage. My rage is so terrible, that it corrodes my intestines. My rage is so hideous, that it eats at my soul. My rage is so consuming, that I tend to forget myself whenever it hits me. My rage in so tempting...
...that it scares me.
...
Help me
Help me for I have sinned.
Help me before I sin again.
Help me before he returns to hurt somebody else.
Help me
...for when he comes, I will not think.
...
The next time you get into a car accident, I want you to think.
Who's life did you take? Which family member did you steal? How many lives are you affecting? How much sadness have you caused?
I am no saint.
I am a sinner (for who isn't) , and God, do I hate myself.
My greatest evil is rage. My rage is so terrible, that it corrodes my intestines. My rage is so hideous, that it eats at my soul. My rage is so consuming, that I tend to forget myself whenever it hits me. My rage in so tempting...
...that it scares me.
...
Help me
Help me for I have sinned.
Help me before I sin again.
Help me before he returns to hurt somebody else.
Help me
...for when he comes, I will not think.
Reasons Why... Re-edited!
I decided to re-add the whole, "Reasons Why... I am a Loser" thing -- this time, new and improved! I suppose you could consider this as something meant as a joke; but I'm gosh-darn serious when I say I was miserable the last time I wrote this (which was last year, on my previous blog, btw).
Before I re-show it to the world, however, there is one thing I'd like to tell you. A minute thing; but, to me, incredibly face-slapping:
SOMEBODY has been snooping through MY personal stuff! Seriously; like, my diary, my internet history, my AMVs, my angst poetry, my half-written fanfiction. There is SOMEBODY in this house who doesn't have a life enough to actually find the time to look through MY personal belongings!
-and I think I know exactly who it is.
...
But anyways, here's that "Reasons Why" thing I promised you.
Enjoy, bitches.
Reasons Why.... I am a loser.
1) No one celebrates my birthday.
2) Almost 75% of my life is spent in front of the computer screen.
3) I talk to myself when I'm alone.
4) Even my alter ego has more of a life than I do.
5) I do not "cam-whore".
6) Even my rabbit hates me.
7) I make AMVs out of cartoon characters just for the heck of it.
8) I still listen to 90s music.
9) I have crushes on the non-existent.
10) People scare me.
11) I do not hold wild par-tays.
12) I do not get invited to wild par-tays.
13) I have to re-introduce myself each time I try to add someone on Friendster.
14) I envision myself as a whole different person.
15) No one likes me.
16) I am so unpopular that I don't even have enemies.
17) I hate answering the phone...
18) ...though the number of phone calls I get is close to non-existent.
19) I get nervous around other people.
20) I'm fat and lazy and haven't even gotten round to doing something about it.
21) If ever my picture shows up somewhere, no one would notice.
22) People forget I exist.
23) Rock music scares me.
24) Barbie dolls scare me.
25) I'm so pathetic that I even cry in my sleep.
26) No one bothers to say hi to me.
27) If people actually took the time to look through my personal stuff, the juiciest thing they'd find is the romance stories I had written during my free time.
28) I am an individual.
29) I do not succumb to the latest trends.
30) I have no friends.
31) I ran into a wall... quite a few times.
32) No one bothers to tell me anything.
33) My words are mostly ignored.
34) Even my mother doesn't listen to what I have to say.
35) I have been wearing the same shirt 6 days in a row.
36) My hair is always in bad condition.
37) I feel awkward even around my family.
38) I support Britney Spears and one day hope she'll make it back on top.
39) My love life is so non-existent, that I am forced to pair up fictional characters and make stories out of them through FanFiction.
40) Even I hate myself.
Before I re-show it to the world, however, there is one thing I'd like to tell you. A minute thing; but, to me, incredibly face-slapping:
SOMEBODY has been snooping through MY personal stuff! Seriously; like, my diary, my internet history, my AMVs, my angst poetry, my half-written fanfiction. There is SOMEBODY in this house who doesn't have a life enough to actually find the time to look through MY personal belongings!
-and I think I know exactly who it is.
...
But anyways, here's that "Reasons Why" thing I promised you.
Enjoy, bitches.
Reasons Why.... I am a loser.
1) No one celebrates my birthday.
2) Almost 75% of my life is spent in front of the computer screen.
3) I talk to myself when I'm alone.
4) Even my alter ego has more of a life than I do.
5) I do not "cam-whore".
6) Even my rabbit hates me.
7) I make AMVs out of cartoon characters just for the heck of it.
8) I still listen to 90s music.
9) I have crushes on the non-existent.
10) People scare me.
11) I do not hold wild par-tays.
12) I do not get invited to wild par-tays.
13) I have to re-introduce myself each time I try to add someone on Friendster.
14) I envision myself as a whole different person.
15) No one likes me.
16) I am so unpopular that I don't even have enemies.
17) I hate answering the phone...
18) ...though the number of phone calls I get is close to non-existent.
19) I get nervous around other people.
20) I'm fat and lazy and haven't even gotten round to doing something about it.
21) If ever my picture shows up somewhere, no one would notice.
22) People forget I exist.
23) Rock music scares me.
24) Barbie dolls scare me.
25) I'm so pathetic that I even cry in my sleep.
26) No one bothers to say hi to me.
27) If people actually took the time to look through my personal stuff, the juiciest thing they'd find is the romance stories I had written during my free time.
28) I am an individual.
29) I do not succumb to the latest trends.
30) I have no friends.
31) I ran into a wall... quite a few times.
32) No one bothers to tell me anything.
33) My words are mostly ignored.
34) Even my mother doesn't listen to what I have to say.
35) I have been wearing the same shirt 6 days in a row.
36) My hair is always in bad condition.
37) I feel awkward even around my family.
38) I support Britney Spears and one day hope she'll make it back on top.
39) My love life is so non-existent, that I am forced to pair up fictional characters and make stories out of them through FanFiction.
40) Even I hate myself.
Self-Stealers
You know what I hate? Okay, so there are a lot of things, but...
You know what I really, really hate?
Hypocrites. Copy-cats. Losers who don't have enough of a life that they are actually willing to steal it from somebody else. Bitches who grab that part of you that makes you you, forces it into their own pitiful bodies; mixes it up with "cool" media influences and brags on their blogs how terribly, "individualistic" they are.
Fuck you, bitch. You know who you are.
I know.
I know Jack is taking me over again.
I know how badly this sounds coming from me -- a person who is so messed up within her own mind that it isn't even pitiful anymore. I know well this fact, in fact, that I my speakers are currently blasting Mandy Moore's, "Only Hope", just so that I'd get a grip of myself.
Calm down. Breathe.
But its not working.
I'm pissed now because of a certain someone.
A certain someone who is oh so clever. A certain someone who flaunts her lame, lip-puckering pictures around on MySpace and Friendster -- hoping she'd get some dumbass recognition.
Oops.
Did I just say, "she'd"?
Well, surprise-surprise. A clue.
Who ever could it be?
Hmm. Take a good guess, bitches.
I knew her well.
You know what I really, really hate?
Hypocrites. Copy-cats. Losers who don't have enough of a life that they are actually willing to steal it from somebody else. Bitches who grab that part of you that makes you you, forces it into their own pitiful bodies; mixes it up with "cool" media influences and brags on their blogs how terribly, "individualistic" they are.
Fuck you, bitch. You know who you are.
I know.
I know Jack is taking me over again.
I know how badly this sounds coming from me -- a person who is so messed up within her own mind that it isn't even pitiful anymore. I know well this fact, in fact, that I my speakers are currently blasting Mandy Moore's, "Only Hope", just so that I'd get a grip of myself.
Calm down. Breathe.
But its not working.
I'm pissed now because of a certain someone.
A certain someone who is oh so clever. A certain someone who flaunts her lame, lip-puckering pictures around on MySpace and Friendster -- hoping she'd get some dumbass recognition.
Oops.
Did I just say, "she'd"?
Well, surprise-surprise. A clue.
Who ever could it be?
Hmm. Take a good guess, bitches.
I knew her well.
Capturing a Silent Moment
I want you to shut up.
I want everybody to just shut up.
I want the whole, friggen world to just shut the fuck up.
I am not angry, don't get me wrong -- but I am simply so sick of listening, listening, listening. I wish, just sometimes, that a moment in life could be captured, forever in a stand-still -- like one of those worn, gray photographs.
I wish I could pause between scenes. Rewind, forward. MUTE.
I want to catch your laughter. I want to keep your smile. I want to stare into your warm, inviting eyes forever -- the fact that you had been unhappy once; sad once; dead now, something I can simply put aside. For in my picture; this picture I would trace with longing fingers; this picture I would keep between the pages of my favourite fairy-tale book -- you would forever be here. With me. Breathing.
I know how crazy I must sound. I know its impossible. I know, no matter how many times I dream about it, life can never be brought into stand still.
But, honestly?
I don't care.
This is my dream. I will keep it, hold it, depend on it. For dreams are hope. Loose strings that seem hopeless to grab onto; but mean the only thing in the world.
So, once again:
I want you to shut up.
I want everybody to just shut up.
I want the whole, friggen world to just shut the fuck up.
Because the picture, alone, speaks a thousand words.
I want everybody to just shut up.
I want the whole, friggen world to just shut the fuck up.
I am not angry, don't get me wrong -- but I am simply so sick of listening, listening, listening. I wish, just sometimes, that a moment in life could be captured, forever in a stand-still -- like one of those worn, gray photographs.
I wish I could pause between scenes. Rewind, forward. MUTE.
I want to catch your laughter. I want to keep your smile. I want to stare into your warm, inviting eyes forever -- the fact that you had been unhappy once; sad once; dead now, something I can simply put aside. For in my picture; this picture I would trace with longing fingers; this picture I would keep between the pages of my favourite fairy-tale book -- you would forever be here. With me. Breathing.
I know how crazy I must sound. I know its impossible. I know, no matter how many times I dream about it, life can never be brought into stand still.
But, honestly?
I don't care.
This is my dream. I will keep it, hold it, depend on it. For dreams are hope. Loose strings that seem hopeless to grab onto; but mean the only thing in the world.
So, once again:
I want you to shut up.
I want everybody to just shut up.
I want the whole, friggen world to just shut the fuck up.
Because the picture, alone, speaks a thousand words.
Kryptonite
Another song written by your's truly. This one's called "Kryptonite".
Amongst the hurt and the lies
You will find me bent
And through the dense
Of the pain
And broken
My element
I hope you realize
What you’d said to me
I hope you realize
That I can’t breathe
When I’m around you
I feel so tired
I can’t
Speak the truth
Though it hurts
To let
You go
I’m getting weaker
Please, just go
Kryptonite
I’m no superman
Oh kryptonite
My twisted element
In your arms
Where I’m best
Close my weary eyes
And rest
Oh, kryptonite
Kryptonite
Taste the hurt
Lick my wounds
Its only right
You redeem what you’ve caused
In the dark of the night
The earth spins
In my mind
Sensing kryptonite
Why, kryptonite
Why do you do this
To me?
Oh, why
Why, kryptonite
Your breaking my walls
And leaving mark on my skin
Oh kryptonite
Tattooed against my skull
My wound
Dear kryptonite
I can’t live without you
But please go
My kryptonite
You suck my soul away
My kryptonite
Your eyes have all to say
My kryptonite
Why do
You stand in my way
My kryptonite
Have mercy
On my wounded, broken, painful, hurted state (kryptonite)
I feel you lurking inside
Ripping out that part of me
And urging it to fly
Hold on close
Take my hand
Kryptonite,
The wounded, broken, painful, hurted
...part of me that I can’t fight off
Weakest state of
Mind
Illusionary
Kryptonite.
Lifehouse- First Time
I've never been in love -- well, not really, anyways. I once had this really, REALLY intense crush, which I actually THOUGHT was love; but, honestly, I've never been in love. I heard this song a few days ago, and it actually piqued my interest. Love sounds like beautiful emotion. I mean, yeah, sure, I have love for my family members and... you know... friendly love or whatever; but romantically? Never.
It sounds fascinating, though -- and you know how I am always drawn towards the fascinating.
Anyways, the song I was talking about was this kinda old song by Lifehouse, called "First Time". I'm sure you've heard of it. Not exactly THE MOST amazing, romantic song in the world -- but it sure as hell portrayed "love" as something really... wonderful.
Here are the lyrics, anyways.
Lifehouse- First Time
We're both looking for something
We've been afraid to find
It's easier to be broken
It's easier to hide
Looking at you,holding my breath,
For once in my life,I'm scared to death,
I'm taking a chance,letting you inside.
Feeling alive all over again,
As deep as the sky, under my skin
Like being in love, she says
For the first time
Maybe I'm wrong,
But I'm feeling right where I belong
With you tonight
Like being in love
To feel for the first time
The world that I see inside you
Waiting to come to life
Waking me up to dreaming
Reality in your eyes
Looking at you,
Holding my breath,
For once in my life
I'm scared to death,
I'm taking a chance,
Letting you inside.
I'm feeling alive all over again
As deep as the sky that's under my skin
Like being in love, she says, for the first time
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right
Where I belong with you tonight
Like being in love to feel for the first time
We're crashing
Into the unknown
We're lost in this
But it feels like home
I'm feeling alive all over again
As deep as the sky that's under my skin
Like being in love, she says, for the first time
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right
Where I belong with you tonight
Like being in love to feel for the first time
It sounds fascinating, though -- and you know how I am always drawn towards the fascinating.
Anyways, the song I was talking about was this kinda old song by Lifehouse, called "First Time". I'm sure you've heard of it. Not exactly THE MOST amazing, romantic song in the world -- but it sure as hell portrayed "love" as something really... wonderful.
Here are the lyrics, anyways.
Lifehouse- First Time
We're both looking for something
We've been afraid to find
It's easier to be broken
It's easier to hide
Looking at you,holding my breath,
For once in my life,I'm scared to death,
I'm taking a chance,letting you inside.
Feeling alive all over again,
As deep as the sky, under my skin
Like being in love, she says
For the first time
Maybe I'm wrong,
But I'm feeling right where I belong
With you tonight
Like being in love
To feel for the first time
The world that I see inside you
Waiting to come to life
Waking me up to dreaming
Reality in your eyes
Looking at you,
Holding my breath,
For once in my life
I'm scared to death,
I'm taking a chance,
Letting you inside.
I'm feeling alive all over again
As deep as the sky that's under my skin
Like being in love, she says, for the first time
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right
Where I belong with you tonight
Like being in love to feel for the first time
We're crashing
Into the unknown
We're lost in this
But it feels like home
I'm feeling alive all over again
As deep as the sky that's under my skin
Like being in love, she says, for the first time
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right
Where I belong with you tonight
Like being in love to feel for the first time
Killer Headache = Mass Ranting Session
My previous post; just minutes ago, had been impeccably deep, I think. Of course, I am in thousand percent agreement to what I had just said; nonetheless, I find that ALTHOUGH this world is NOT my playground, that the earth is a battle field for which I am a worthless pawn; I have dignity enough, at least, to write about MY emotions in MY own blog, right?
Not that I'm being hypocritical or anything. I will post for the sake of the planet and human rights as much as I can, but for now... I kind of want to use this blog as a site for self expression.
I deserve that, at least, don't I?
Yes, I know.
I'm a terrible, terrible person.
Nonetheless...
...
Today I woke up with a terrible flu. My flu was so bad that I missed the morning alarm twice and actually did not realize myself ask for FOUR more minutes when my mum came to wake me about four hours later.
I was supposed to wake up at 2am, see, so that I can study physics. But, unfortunately for me, it seems; life had other plans.
And so I awoke at 6.30am -- which, to me, is considered LATE because I have to leave around 7 and I usually spend about forty minutes in the bathroom (God knows why).
Hastily brushing my teeth and lathering myself with scented chemicals (which I am sure no good will come out of), I forgot, as per usual, to brush my hair (so THATS why its always messy!). I took my breakfast quickly. Put on my socks; yada, yada, yada...
...to cut things short, I just wanted to tell you how SICK I was today.
And, no. I don't mean one of those, "emotionally sick and wounded" -- I actually meant that I was literally sick.
Haha.
Exams were a disaster.
Physics was supposed to be an easy paper -- something I am so CERTAIN I could have scored if I had only taken the initiative to have studied beforehand. Also, I had this ear-splitting headache. Seriously. My lips were dry; yet hot; as if they were on fire. My eyes were watery. My throat was parched and sore. My cheeks were flushed. My nose was runny. My neck was stiff and painful. My head was heavy and throbbing.
Everything about me screamed, "Shut the f*ck up! I wanna go HOME!" -- but of course, sitting at the back of a fully-occupied classroom, the teacher behind me so close I could have felt him/her breathing down my neck, and my midterm paper staring obnoxiously at me from atop my orange-coloured desk -- it seemed I really had no choice.
So... there I sat. For two and a half hours. Just... sitting. Blowing my nose, rubbing my face, combing my fingers through my sticky, grimy hair (insult to injury, my hair. Seriously); I had actually used up about FOUR entire tissue packets; the tissues used all considerably wet and terribly worn, scattered before me.
Yes, yes. My day could have definitely gone worst if it hadn't been for recess (thank goodness for FOOD, glorious FOOD!).
After twenty minutes of not studying, my headache actually seemed to ease itself. My temperature had decreased as well. Also, my runny nose was not as... runny... as it had been before.
A considered miracle, I gasped, of course; if it hadn't been for the fact that, ONCE AGAIN, life just had to lend a hand.
I went home with a killer stomach ache. It seemed I was vomiting on the inside. I had actually gotten this crazy urge -- after rolling around in bed; moaning about the senseless pain I was going through -- to just rip myself open and SCRUB myself from the inside out. I just felt so... so unbelievably DISGUSTED with myself that I could not BEAR to be in my own presence.
My mother, of course, just had to be helpful by sending me off to bed -- which I, of course, had no qualms into doing.
However, just as the absolute misery finally seemed to ease itself...
...my f*cking air conditioner just stopped blowing cold air!!
I was sleeping in the damn heat of our typical Malaysian weather WITH a killer headache AND a monstrous stomach ache AND the thoughts of my History exam BEING the next DAY!
Ugh!!
I just feel so... so PISSED right now.
I mean; even NOW I have a few chapters of Sejarah to go and my aircond isn't functioning well.
Good crap. I KNOW I'm supposed not to be selfish and inconsiderate of the world around me and stuff -- but, SERIOUSLY! If this is the way things are going to keep going around here, than we'll be seeing a WHOLE lot more 5000-word rant posts, now, won't we?
Not that I'm being hypocritical or anything. I will post for the sake of the planet and human rights as much as I can, but for now... I kind of want to use this blog as a site for self expression.
I deserve that, at least, don't I?
Yes, I know.
I'm a terrible, terrible person.
Nonetheless...
...
Today I woke up with a terrible flu. My flu was so bad that I missed the morning alarm twice and actually did not realize myself ask for FOUR more minutes when my mum came to wake me about four hours later.
I was supposed to wake up at 2am, see, so that I can study physics. But, unfortunately for me, it seems; life had other plans.
And so I awoke at 6.30am -- which, to me, is considered LATE because I have to leave around 7 and I usually spend about forty minutes in the bathroom (God knows why).
Hastily brushing my teeth and lathering myself with scented chemicals (which I am sure no good will come out of), I forgot, as per usual, to brush my hair (so THATS why its always messy!). I took my breakfast quickly. Put on my socks; yada, yada, yada...
...to cut things short, I just wanted to tell you how SICK I was today.
And, no. I don't mean one of those, "emotionally sick and wounded" -- I actually meant that I was literally sick.
Haha.
Exams were a disaster.
Physics was supposed to be an easy paper -- something I am so CERTAIN I could have scored if I had only taken the initiative to have studied beforehand. Also, I had this ear-splitting headache. Seriously. My lips were dry; yet hot; as if they were on fire. My eyes were watery. My throat was parched and sore. My cheeks were flushed. My nose was runny. My neck was stiff and painful. My head was heavy and throbbing.
Everything about me screamed, "Shut the f*ck up! I wanna go HOME!" -- but of course, sitting at the back of a fully-occupied classroom, the teacher behind me so close I could have felt him/her breathing down my neck, and my midterm paper staring obnoxiously at me from atop my orange-coloured desk -- it seemed I really had no choice.
So... there I sat. For two and a half hours. Just... sitting. Blowing my nose, rubbing my face, combing my fingers through my sticky, grimy hair (insult to injury, my hair. Seriously); I had actually used up about FOUR entire tissue packets; the tissues used all considerably wet and terribly worn, scattered before me.
Yes, yes. My day could have definitely gone worst if it hadn't been for recess (thank goodness for FOOD, glorious FOOD!).
After twenty minutes of not studying, my headache actually seemed to ease itself. My temperature had decreased as well. Also, my runny nose was not as... runny... as it had been before.
A considered miracle, I gasped, of course; if it hadn't been for the fact that, ONCE AGAIN, life just had to lend a hand.
I went home with a killer stomach ache. It seemed I was vomiting on the inside. I had actually gotten this crazy urge -- after rolling around in bed; moaning about the senseless pain I was going through -- to just rip myself open and SCRUB myself from the inside out. I just felt so... so unbelievably DISGUSTED with myself that I could not BEAR to be in my own presence.
My mother, of course, just had to be helpful by sending me off to bed -- which I, of course, had no qualms into doing.
However, just as the absolute misery finally seemed to ease itself...
...my f*cking air conditioner just stopped blowing cold air!!
I was sleeping in the damn heat of our typical Malaysian weather WITH a killer headache AND a monstrous stomach ache AND the thoughts of my History exam BEING the next DAY!
Ugh!!
I just feel so... so PISSED right now.
I mean; even NOW I have a few chapters of Sejarah to go and my aircond isn't functioning well.
Good crap. I KNOW I'm supposed not to be selfish and inconsiderate of the world around me and stuff -- but, SERIOUSLY! If this is the way things are going to keep going around here, than we'll be seeing a WHOLE lot more 5000-word rant posts, now, won't we?
Reality
"Somewhere on the other side of the rainbow, a child is dying."
For the longest time now, I had thought myself a caring person. Compassionate. Unselfish. Loving...
...but I see now how wrong I was.
I am neither one, nor any of the kind words used to describe a human being living on this planet. I am a horrible, horrible person, and for this, I live in shame. Pasting myself with so many false securities; I had, at one point in life, almost begun to believe in them. How sick, how twisted I am, I have come to realize at this moment.
For the longest time, I have been living in this crazy fantasy where I am the heroin. Where THEY are just side characters. Where life revolves around ME. Where occurrences are there only for MY sake.
I knew -- oh, yes, I KNEW; that out there somewhere children were dying. That somewhere in the Middle East, explosions were erupting. That young girls are being molested by their fathers. That a seventeen-year-old girl somewhere in New York had just lost her virginity to a complete stranger. That lava was spewing out from the belly of an active volcano; destroying three-years' worth of crops. That hurricanes were destroying all ready run-down homes. That families were being torn apart--
and YET
I am still here.
A selfish, insignificant, fool.
I sit and moan and whine and complain and yell and scream and cry -- for WHAT?
I am a terrible, terrible excuse of a human being. I am a monster. A heartless, hideous beast who actually BELIEVED she was looking out for the good in this world -- who actually BELIEVED she was one of the few "caring" people on this planet.
(dry laughter)
But oh, no. How wrong. How wrong I am to even THINK of such a thing. I am no better than all those people who pick up guns, aim it in the face of a total stranger -- in the face of a man who was LIVING merely SECONDS ago -- and pull the trigger.
If I can turn my head when the world is crumbling around me; if I can walk away while others DIE...
...then I am, in fact, worse.
It is time, now, that I humble myself. I am not a one-man army. Not a lone island. I cannot command myself to walk when, in fact, I hardly deserve to press my belly against cold earth and crawl. Starting from today onwards, I want to stop thinking about myself -- my problems, my happiness, my sorrow, my whatever.
Its time I stop staring at the minuscule DOT on a sheet of white paper; and take a look at the rest of the world.
And to whomever had read this; if you are just as guilty of the sins I have committed, then please. Don't hesitate to join me in my cause. I hope this post has opened your eyes, for I know, without question, that it had my own.
...together we shall make the world a better place.
For the longest time now, I had thought myself a caring person. Compassionate. Unselfish. Loving...
...but I see now how wrong I was.
I am neither one, nor any of the kind words used to describe a human being living on this planet. I am a horrible, horrible person, and for this, I live in shame. Pasting myself with so many false securities; I had, at one point in life, almost begun to believe in them. How sick, how twisted I am, I have come to realize at this moment.
For the longest time, I have been living in this crazy fantasy where I am the heroin. Where THEY are just side characters. Where life revolves around ME. Where occurrences are there only for MY sake.
I knew -- oh, yes, I KNEW; that out there somewhere children were dying. That somewhere in the Middle East, explosions were erupting. That young girls are being molested by their fathers. That a seventeen-year-old girl somewhere in New York had just lost her virginity to a complete stranger. That lava was spewing out from the belly of an active volcano; destroying three-years' worth of crops. That hurricanes were destroying all ready run-down homes. That families were being torn apart--
and YET
I am still here.
A selfish, insignificant, fool.
I sit and moan and whine and complain and yell and scream and cry -- for WHAT?
I am a terrible, terrible excuse of a human being. I am a monster. A heartless, hideous beast who actually BELIEVED she was looking out for the good in this world -- who actually BELIEVED she was one of the few "caring" people on this planet.
(dry laughter)
But oh, no. How wrong. How wrong I am to even THINK of such a thing. I am no better than all those people who pick up guns, aim it in the face of a total stranger -- in the face of a man who was LIVING merely SECONDS ago -- and pull the trigger.
If I can turn my head when the world is crumbling around me; if I can walk away while others DIE...
...then I am, in fact, worse.
It is time, now, that I humble myself. I am not a one-man army. Not a lone island. I cannot command myself to walk when, in fact, I hardly deserve to press my belly against cold earth and crawl. Starting from today onwards, I want to stop thinking about myself -- my problems, my happiness, my sorrow, my whatever.
Its time I stop staring at the minuscule DOT on a sheet of white paper; and take a look at the rest of the world.
And to whomever had read this; if you are just as guilty of the sins I have committed, then please. Don't hesitate to join me in my cause. I hope this post has opened your eyes, for I know, without question, that it had my own.
...together we shall make the world a better place.
My Tragic Hero
I don't know what I was thinking when I just wrote what I did. Some sick, twisted song which I imagine viewing from the eyes of an equally sick, twisted drug-addict. The beat is kind of... well, dark. Sung in this crazy, rapid-type way. Just picture your mind half-drunk, hazy; and that you're about to die in a matter of minutes -- thats exactly what I did.
My tragic hero
Tastes like pure ecstasy
Hope faith and passion
Don’t mean a thing
My tragic hero
Hope you make room for me
Before you close my eyes
This is the last time that I play a song for you
This is the last time that I spill my heart
My soul keeps bleeding bleeding and bleeding bleeding
I don’t know what to do
My tragic hero
You’re ripping me apart.
My tragic hero,
Where did you go, last night?
Gave me some pleasure, then left to die (okay)
My tragic hero,
You hold and protect, despite
My tragic hero,
You left me to DIE
This is the last time that I play my songs for you
This is the last time, I hope I’ve made my point
Coz I’m so sick and tired
My mind so wired
Please understand
I can’t be your heroine
And take me hostage
Just for one night
And hold me closely
I’m taking the plunge, with you on my right
Moan, for I am exhausted
Cry, my despair
Scream, scream in agony
My tragic hero,
I can always depend on...
Moan, for you’re exhausted
And
Yell, a yell of truth
Don’t
Cry, tears of despair
This ain’t for me, its all for you
This is the last time that I play my songs for you
This is the last time that I make mistake
I can’t keep bleeding bleeding and bleeding bleeding
There’s so much I can take
My tragic hero,
Quit keeping me awake
My tragic hero...
...together we shall sleep.
Sleepy
The stage is set. The audience is waiting. The script is prepared. The plot is flawless. The main actress... wants nothing to do with it.
Hi, my name is Hannah.
Not Courtney, not Jack, not emo, bimbo, wacko-freak, foo', petunia, llama -- just Hannah.
Most people look at me and see this... person... who would never stand up for herself. See this shy, timid individual. People who "get to know" me think I'm this insane, wacky girl who just never seems to grow up. People who "understand" me -- a very, very limited number -- find that I am this complex being who's mood is forever shifting towards the extremes.
But who am I really? Who, really, knows the real me?
Tonight I am sick of acting. Sick of being this somebody I'm not. Sick of wrapping myself up, so intensely, in these... these alter-egos. Sometimes, I don't even know myself anymore.
Its confusing. Depressing. Exhausting -- these switch persona's of mine. I'm becoming so much of somebody I am not, that I am forgetting who I really am:
Hannah.
But again, who, or what, makes me, Hannah Nasir, Hannah Nasir?
Moments like these, for one. Sitting reminiscing over life. Absorbed in thought. Overcome with content. Brief satisfaction. A mere pit-stop in which I allow myself moment to catch my breath before plunging, head-first, into the icy waters of my other halves.
Tonight, however, I am taking a break. I'm sick and tired of pretending -- always, always pretending. Sick and tired of listening -- always, always listening. Sick and tired of nodding my head in understanding, offering words of advice, smiling, acting all perky, secluding myself in a corner whenever I am pissed.
Truth is, I am not happy. Not miserable or angry or as clueless as I make myself look, either.
In truth, I am this... entity... who is so tainted by the outside world. The real me wants freedom. Longs solitude. Yearns content, satisfaction, relief.
The real me...
...just really, really wants to go to sleep.
Hi, my name is Hannah.
Not Courtney, not Jack, not emo, bimbo, wacko-freak, foo', petunia, llama -- just Hannah.
Most people look at me and see this... person... who would never stand up for herself. See this shy, timid individual. People who "get to know" me think I'm this insane, wacky girl who just never seems to grow up. People who "understand" me -- a very, very limited number -- find that I am this complex being who's mood is forever shifting towards the extremes.
But who am I really? Who, really, knows the real me?
Tonight I am sick of acting. Sick of being this somebody I'm not. Sick of wrapping myself up, so intensely, in these... these alter-egos. Sometimes, I don't even know myself anymore.
Its confusing. Depressing. Exhausting -- these switch persona's of mine. I'm becoming so much of somebody I am not, that I am forgetting who I really am:
Hannah.
But again, who, or what, makes me, Hannah Nasir, Hannah Nasir?
Moments like these, for one. Sitting reminiscing over life. Absorbed in thought. Overcome with content. Brief satisfaction. A mere pit-stop in which I allow myself moment to catch my breath before plunging, head-first, into the icy waters of my other halves.
Tonight, however, I am taking a break. I'm sick and tired of pretending -- always, always pretending. Sick and tired of listening -- always, always listening. Sick and tired of nodding my head in understanding, offering words of advice, smiling, acting all perky, secluding myself in a corner whenever I am pissed.
Truth is, I am not happy. Not miserable or angry or as clueless as I make myself look, either.
In truth, I am this... entity... who is so tainted by the outside world. The real me wants freedom. Longs solitude. Yearns content, satisfaction, relief.
The real me...
...just really, really wants to go to sleep.
Fatter
Omg. In the past... day... I, Noor Hannah Nasir, must have gained a LOT of weight! Ugh! And I was JUST about to congratulate myself!! Stupid, stupid, STUPID. I mean, seriously. I go off to my grandparents' house in TWO days, and they feed me like crazy, NOW look at me!!!
Sob.
I'm... FAT...
...
...
...-ter.
Sob.
I'm... FAT...
...
...
...-ter.
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