i still miss you.
but its almost like a dreamy miss
its not longing anymore.
i dont long, yearn, for you anymore.
its not sad anymore.
i'm not sad.
it doesnt hurt anymore.
it doesnt hurt to think about you
to remember you
how you talked
and your silly laugh
and your adorable accent.
you are slowly
slowly
little by little
leaving
my memory.
i cant say i really mind.
its for the best.

my life is okay,

i must admit.

i leave in nine days.

and i cut my hair.

although im positive you already know.

im sure you know

where i am

how i am

where im going

why im going

how im going

when im going

with who im going.

you have a knack for knowing things.

im sure you know about this, too.

you could easily find it.

easily read it

if you wanted to.

you can easily contact me

talk to me

write me

see me

if you wanted to.

even if you dont, though.

i will be alright.

i will be fine.

you should be too.

take care of yourself.

<3

i have

i have just about nine days.
nine days.
nine.
9.
9 DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!






i cannot contain my excitement =D =D =D
=))))))))))))))

mustachios

magpie

"i cant. i caaaant"

she managed between laughs.

"its so haard"

"just for a second. you can do it. now hold still"

she tried to compose herself,

but it didnt work so well.

laughter kept slipping out.

"you dont know how difficult it is.

youre not the one doing it"

"i know, i know.

but its funnier with you. youre the girl, remember?"

"how can i forget?

youre such a guy that even if you were a girl

people would mistake you for a guy"

she retorted lovingly, with a smile.

"ill get you for that later, punk.

now hold still"

but he cracked a smile

and there was laughter in his eyes.

she finally managed to stop laughing

just for a few seconds

and he snapped the polaroid.

she spent the next ten minutes

laughing about it.

he chuckled a few times.

he later named it

'Mustache? or Clown Hat?'

it was published.

became famous.

and he didnt care.

he keeps the original with him, always.

that was the last picture

he took of her.

it was the last picture of her, period.

it was the last day she spent with him.

he misses her.

every day.

all the time.

all the time.

i think the world stopped
once or twice.


when your eyes met mine
and i understood




and you didnt have to say a thing.

the girl.

magpie

it reminds me so much of the book

1984 by George Orwell.

at first i thought they were puppets

because of the metal bars

on the left.

in the middle of a long workday

(14.3 hours to be exact)

they are allowed one lunch.

they all eat together,

in one room.

in the lunchroom full of men,

everyone looks down

no one meets anyone's eyes.

no one wants to see the emotion within.

pain, fatigue, shame.

there is but one girl.

dresses like a man

works like a man

eats like a lady

why she works there, no one knows.

how old she is, no one knows.

where shes from, no one knows.

rumour has it

her father died

mother fell ill

she has no brothers

and 2 younger sisters.

she keeps to herself always

does not even let her eyes flicker.

never says a word.

the men,

they don't care.

they can't.

i know, though.

the sash her aunt gave her

once on a visit.

said red was the color of sin,

the color of desire,

the color of appetite.

she wears it always

her aunt went missing 3 days later.

she hates questions

hates when people probe and pry.

thats why shes quiet

i dont know how i know

its like i  can hear her thoughts
and sometimes i think
she can hear mine.
(im in the green, with the drink)

where are you going, where have you been?

magpie

do you see him?

i do.

he's sitting on the arm of it.

sometimes he sits on the actual seat.

you don't see him?

he's wearing a gray suit.

and polished shoes.

and he has nice hair.

how can you not see him??

he's so captivating.

his eyes catch yours,

i mean mine,

and hold them.

and not to state the obvious, but

he's on a bright red couch

in the middle of the sidewalk.

i wonder if anyone else sees him.

what if its just me?

i was walking past one day,

quickly.

he asked me why

i was in such a hurry.

i almost ignored him.

he asked if i would like to sit

for just a few seconds

and take a load off.

i took him up on the offer.

amazing what 3 seconds can do.

i never speed by anymore.

i always stop

i always sit down

-even if for just a second-

and take a second to breathe.

sometimes i talk.

i usually don't.

he's a very good listener.

he's very patient.

very understanding

and empathetic.

funny

i've seen him stand

once or twice

i've seen him pace.

once

but he never crosses that

yellow line

like he's trapped behind it

or something.

i wish somebody would see him.

i wish everybody could see him.

i want to help him.

do you see him?

this here.

what with school
and work
and church
and life
and everything in between,


i tend to forget that i actually have a blog.
and i forget that i actually have followers.
as in, people who actually read what i write.


and so i forget to come here and write.
even though i want to.
and when i remember,
i get distracted.
and distracted.
and distracted.
and i end up forgetting.


school is almost over,
theres about 2 or 3 weeks left.
im very excited, but nervous too.


if i get good grades on
my last few assignments,
i may pass all my classes with As.


wouldnt that be something.
:o

what youre like

magipe

like

something i love, but cant live with.

like

something i hate, but cant live without.

like

a yin

like

a yang

like

my yin to my yang


youre my other half
but i cant stand you.

what am i to do with you?

happy birthday

today is your birthday.
im not sure if i'll ever forget.


two years ago today,
i thought you were dead.
i had a terrible day.
i cried.


one year ago today,
i was limping along
waiting for a burned leg
to heal.


today,
i will work all day long.
and i may think of you
i might not.


but either which way,
i hope you have
a lovely birthday.
take care of yourself.




"all we are is dust in the wind."

this song

this song

pulls at the strings

of my heart

changes

i love my family.
i truly love my siblings.


they make me laugh,
they keep me entertained,
they provide reality checks.


sure, they hurt me,
they make me cry,
they anger me to the point of busting a fuse.


but they are my family.
something i will always have.
and im so thankful for them.


i will miss them terribly.


i was needing a few changes in my life.
changes are slowly happening.
im doing something personally difficult
something sad, like leaving
and something unbelievably exciting


life is good.


only 4 more weeks of school after tomorrow.

typewrite

i want a typewriter.

.......bring peace to the

one who couldnt find it

he's like that.

he'd like to make such a difference

in an unsuspecting life

when he bought the typewriter,

they told him it was new.

at first he believed it.

that lasted about 2 pages.

from there,

it seemed as though the words

willed themselves onto the paper.

he hardly had time to think them

that is, if he thought of them at all.

his fingers flew over the keys

and the worlds splattered themselves,

black on white,

some letters darker than the rest.

what he ended up writing

turned out heart-wrenching

instead of heartwarming

like he had planned.

happened more than once, too.

he would start up a piece,

thinking about it,

how he would make it warm

and comforting

and finished with something

that tore at his heart

instead.

once, he became so mad

he threw his drink at the wall.

never bothered with the stain

"whats the point" he said

the room's not even painted anyway.

he crumpled ripped and shredded

countless pages

yet somehow always rewrote them.

after a few weeks,

he accepted it.

he was convinced that the typewriter

was once owned by someone

desperate

desperate

so desperate

to let out thoughts

and anguish

and tried

desperately

but could not find the words.

so he decided

he would finish it.

hes dedicated his time and patience

and his heart

to exhaust that typer.

to pull every

single

sorrowful

screaming

word

out of it.

and maybe somehow

somewhere

bring peace to the

former owner.

he's like that.

he'd like to make such a difference

in one so unsuspecting...

watch this.

its kinda long, but definitely gives you something to think about.
personally, i like the guy with the mohawk
he caught my attention right away.
i really really wonder if perhaps he changed his mind.....






also,
do pass it on

something i want you to know

i want you to know that i still think of you.
not all the time, but often enough.
and you jump into my head
at the most random moments.


i still have the bracelet you gave me.
it hangs in my car.
i have the ring, too.
i dont wear it anymore
but i do keep it.
and the necklace.
its in my jewelry chest.


thats about all i have left
to remind me of you.
besides my memories.

mornings

mag

every morning

right after she wakes up,

sometimes before she even brushes her teeth,

she shuffles into the kitchen

still half asleep

and makes a cup of coffee.

then she finds the paper

(you see, she gets them free)

skims over the headlines;

and the first thing she looks for
is the daily crossword.


then, she sits at the table,
coffee cup nearherlefthand
pencil in her right,
completing the puzzle,
sipping on the coffee now and then.


you should see her as she does it.
kind of funny, to be honest.
she will stare intently at the clue
and then at the spaces,
take a sip of coffee
chew her pencil a bit
pucker her lips, deep in thought.
contemplate
first one word
then another.


if she thinks she has the answer,
she lights up.
then carefully pencils in the word
not too dark, just in case
it may need to be erased.


first she does a quick run
through the whole puzzle
to see if she knows any off the
top of her head.
and then she
starts
over
this time slower
pausing to ponder every clue
mull over words in her head
maybe try to fit a few words
before moving to the next.


she does this every morning,
its become a routine.

she loves it
she likes the constancy of  it.



the king?
well, that was given to her
by her great grandmother
when she was just a wee child.
Baba had said
"sunshine, take this to heart.
find something you love and enjoy
and make it a daily occurrence
works best if it starts
or finishes your day.
be just like a king.
stuck in his daily rounds
and long-practiced habits.
every day either begins or ends
exactly the same.


this way, sweet child,
when life becomes chaos
and turns upside-down
or inside out
or becomes too much to bear,
you will have a lifeline.
something to fall back on,
to keep you mostly sane
and to tie your days together."

so every morning

right as she wakes up,

she locates her king.

and when she finds her paper,

she sets him atop it,

or very near it.

he reminds her every morning

of great-babas wise, wise words.

she says it works.

says its easier to live

when you know

that no matter what each

day will bring,

the mornings

will always be the same.

i wont be surprised
-id be delighted, actually-
if ten years from now
she still solves that puzzle
every day but sunday.