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♥ precious.
la bella vita;

Cara

loves: black and white photography. poetry. vintage stores. thunderstorms. good ambience. fairytales. disneyworld. black kohl and fuschia lipstick. red and purple skittles. turquoise beads. icing but not cakes. might-have-beens. the dandy warhols. within temptation. automatic loveletter. mediaeval baebes. troy. interview with a vampire. the oc. making 11:11 wishes. purple glitter. mermaids. my-little-ponies. magic.

expertise: melodramaticks. eyeliner. laughing. goodbyes. hanging in there.

♥ music on, world off.
shh.

soundtrack to life.

♥ scream(?).
live.

♥ past .
instant time travel

December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010

♥ adieu .
set them free

AMANDA
ANDRE
ASH
DEB
ELEMM
07IP04!
08IP04!
JOSH
KAT
LISA
QIU
RENJEAN


♥ credits .
thankyouverymuch

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Wednesday, July 23, 2008
hello, old friend. 8:07 AM


is sitting in front of the computer at 11:11 writing an essay due on 31/7.

a snitchet?

" Sometimes I linger around the cafes on the street—the little, overpriced niches on fashionably obscure little pavements.
The brokenhearted are regular patrons here. They order their coffees straight up—no milk, no sugar—and sit alone at tables meant for two.
In the movies, brokenhearted people often end up healing each other; but things are different in the city. Predators of the heart lurk everywhere these days—and in this barren landscape of half-whispered truths and whispered half-truths, we have learnt to flee or fight and to guard our hearts fiercely; to break hearts or be broken ourselves.

Yet for all our vain defenses, it is undeniable that this land has been starved of love. Although everyone looks strong and in control in the daylight; by night, the city blazes with the glow of a hundred thousand lights kept burning in a hundred thousand windows of a hundred thousand people waiting, and wishing, and wanting, and remembering, and regretting.

And so the city sends out its silent, desperate signal flare as the lighthouses in Atlantis must have done in those last few, final, terrible moments—and yet the ever-widening tear in the sky must have interfered with the Heavenly reception because none of the gods have heard our cry for help; and if they have, we must have sunk too far down for them to reach us. "

and that's all I'm going to post up here.
I'm frightfully afraid that I'm veering waaaayyy off the essay topic, but hopefully the sore fingers and dark eyes that tonight will give will all pay off.

[/edit]
...uggghhhhh writers' block. I hate it when this happens.




it's complicated,
(this time I think it could be)
triangulated,
(it could be just what we need)
so what d'you say: we give it up and walk away?
 we're overrated anyway.