“Even when I detach, I care. You can be separate from a thing and still care about it. If I wanted to detach completely, I would move my body away. I would stop the conversation midsentence. I would leave the bed. Instead, I hover over it for a second. I glance off in another direction. But I always glance back at you.”

‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s’

"But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up, if you let yourself love a wild thing."

Asking too much

"I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel."

See you tomorrow. No.

I fall for the littlest things, like one saying the right words at the right timing, the little gestures, the small words, the smirk smile, the scent, the morning kisses. And I have to keep reminding myself that I can't. Because at this age of me, the amount of things that I've been through, the people I met, I really shouldn't judge things/people based on feelings, and that's really sad cause really, I am only 21.

i am sad

i am sad but i can't cry. i am sad but i watch the saddest videos but nothing touches me. i am sad and i see something cruel and i can't cry. i meet people i fall i become happy then i become sad and i can't cry. i am sad but sometimes i feel like i have no feelings or i choose to be this way but i can't cry. i am sad and it often puzzles me that if i chose to be sad but i can't cry. i am sad till the extend that i think sad isn't the right word anymore and i can't cry. i am sad and it makes me really sad and i just want to cry it out loud.


The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when Sad tries to bite its lip and not cry and smile and go, “No, I’m happy for you”? That’s when it’s really sad.”

The One Far Away

Sometimes the saddest words are the ones I left on this blog
the ones I wrote myself
the happy ones
the sad ones
I felt those moments and I wrote them down
from time to time, I read them again, and feel again what I felt, and I think
for the good and for the bad

I think about the same things he keeps telling me whenever he see me. It's always the same old stuff. And those same words haunts me...in different stages

• I believed them, I was touched
• I start to think about it and have doubts
• I think they're crap, you're just using them to make me always have feelings for you
• Again? You should at least come out with something new

...and now it's at the stage which makes me think in a way that.. maybe I should be glad. Glad that at least I made someone to speak of me like that to his friends(if let's say it's really true)..at least when he thinks about me, he thinks about the good of me..at least he still thinks of me..at least whenever he bumped into me, he still have this look..that look that have so much meaning in it..that look that I used to look at him at..at least he still feel something..at least even though it's been almost a year..what happened still could cause an impact on him..at least

sometimes I just wished you could have been what I wanted
or I could be what you wanted
and we would be happy now

I will love you not just for your wit and talent and beauty, but simply because you are you, with no strings attached. I love you for who you are deep in your soul, not for the color of your eyes or the length of your legs or the size of your checkbook. The longing is that the lover admire us stripped of our external assets, appreciating the essence of our being without accomplishments, ready to repeat the unconditional love said by some to exist between parent and child. The real self is what one can freely choose to be, and if a birthmark arises on our forehead or age withers us or recession bankrupts us, then we must be excused for accidents that have damaged what is only our surface. And even if we are beautiful and rich, then we do not wish to be loved on account of these things, for they may fail us, and with them, love. I would prefer you to compliment me on my brain than on my face, but if you must, then I would rather you comment on my smile [motor and muscle-controlled] then on my nose [static and tissue-based]. The desire is that I be loved even if I lost everything, leaving nothing but “me,” this mysterious “me” taken to be the self at its weakest, most vulnerable point. Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test. Do you love me stripped of everything that might be lost, for only the things I will have forever?