Almost Untitled

Bizarre.

I have these wonderful pair of slippers. Having it was beyond anything else.  I always use it. I crave for it. I can’t live without it. But if you could count how many months, days or hours I spent my time with it. Spending without it is definitely longer than the hours spent using it. If I were to tally the total of 12, I indulged myself for about 5 unacceptable long period of shallowness. Heck, where’s the missing 7? I keep on missing that 7. Maybe more on the next 12 or 24 or 36. I don’t know.

This is more than odd.

This is how he makes me feel every single day. He’s my bundle of pancakes and a spoonful of whipped cream.

Last month? Oh well. He surprised me with this.

Nothing extraordinary happened. Except that, he happened.

That the first ever entry and image I have posted in my Yahoo 360 includes this someone who is now occupying the most important piece of my existence. Geesh.

Two more dreams and he’s here. Yey!

fi_shoi @2007 <’)+++<

“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on.

“One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you– the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”

fi_shoi @2007 <’)+++<

One ingredient of after-breaking-up syndrome is moving on. The thing is, I am still in a relationship. I am moving on. And I am still hurting.

“Piranhas, anacondas, sharks, electric eels! Yikes!! They are all spinning, whirling all around me, wanting to eat me. Help!!!”