Suspended Animation.

1. I never knew you meant so much until I looked into your eyes.
2. Your glazed look said enough for me to know others occupy your crowded heart.
3. Natasha's the sweetest sister one can ever ask for.
4. I need a Taylor. Like, soon. Really soon.
5. I can't wait to see cupid again. (:

Once, she met the farmer by the side of the ranch.

She talked about being carefree, like the sky.

If I'm the sky..
Then I'd be more of a kind, a dazzling display of sights & sounds, I'd your stars amongst clouds.

He looked over his shoulders at the state of his labors.

If I'm that open field..
Then I'd love to be ballet, a dance of petals in the winds that ruffle through your hair.

Soon, they stumbled upon the girl's worries. A coarse expression of love, yet..

I'll be your scarecrow at night, heed not the perched crows, I'd take the world off of your shoulders.

Yet she saw his tenderness, and more than that, she saw too..

That way, could I be your hay, building you up everyday?

Her future.

And they lived happily ever after. (:

I've been feeling really tired these days.. Physically. Mentally, I'm raring to go.

I realized that there are a few things that kinda makes my heart skips a little, does a twirl, and finally gentle rapping on my mind to pick them up. I guess it's like how ladies swoon over cute guys and pretty dresses.. something like that. (: If only I could just pick up some culinary skills (and to bake!), to learn to tap the keys on a keyboard, and to brush up a little more on my guitar. I should pen down that I can't wait to learn to drive too, because that's what Mom keeps harping on and on about, but then again, whose Mom ever read blogs?

Listening to a beautiful rendition of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' on keyboard, and a lovely voice lifting the verses like snow waltzing on a winter's night. I know I know, it isn't Christmas just yet, but it's really captivating, this girl's voice. I'm wishing Christmas comes really soon.. Though it'll always be that same little boy's face, elbows atop the window sill, his head leaning on one palm. The window panes, frosty upon his breath, teasing the snow that never is to come.

I liked yesterday. I think it amusing that I could ever get lost with Cheryl in River Valley, despite me having navigated through the thickest of forests in the middle of the night. I think it heartwarming to see the hunger in the younger ones. And I was tickled by how Zining got awed by her 'majestic' surroundings, which in her words, resembled hotel suites.

'How do you solve deforestation?'
' ____________ Day.'
Hahaha. Love the bubbly girl.

Have you ever wondered how eyes can tell the most enthralling stories? There's a chance they could pierce through your whole soul, and they speak to you clearer than anything else we could ever learn to mouth. Sometimes, you see a longing, a sad story behind those misty eyes, and other times you see a joy lighting up in those sparkling jewels, dancing; a flickering candlelight. You seem to know right away, the hurt and the pain, the glee and the delight.

Speaking of eyes, I think Sissy Ng has very nice eyes, haha! Got reminded of them suddenly.

Random feelings #2: Am thankful I still talk to the twins now and then. I think we've all grown a lot. (:

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'And the little things she did, they go unnoticed. Like the dust that gathers atop his cupboard. Like the autumn leaves that litters his backyard. Like her heart that grows cold.'

Sometimes we push so hard to get noticed by a certain someone, we let the most beautiful people pass us by.

(love this picture!)

19th came and went.. carefree like the wind. Like how I wished it to be. To all those who made the weekend what it came to be - my family, N441, Bunk 2, my old pal - I'm grateful beyond words can say.

Been fiddling with my D90 the past few days (the one Joan refused to believe I have!), and I've come to the conclusion that photography is elusively complicated. It kept me on my toes for hours, trying to figure out what all those different buttons do, and what those terms in the manuel actually relate to. And despite my determination, all those trouble I went through.. All that I can show for the day's a picture of my tobacco shade guitar. No, I'm not putting it up, partly because I need to flip through the manuel AGAIN to learn how to upload them, and namely because I think it isn't all that wonderful. :/

Irv and I went lunatic last night. I'm pretty convinced the whole neighborhood heard me screaming my head off in ecstasy. Giggs was breathtaking, which was really all that mattered. The 96th minute goal was just the icing on the cake, I'm almost sure Manchester United was gift-wrapping that victory for my birthday!

On a side note, I'm curious as to who are those that actually bother giving this place more than a glance. :/

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There's so much I wish I knew.. All that you said only left me more confounded. If only you'd write like you used to. If only you'd look me in the eyes and tell me what's wrong. If only you'd trace back to who you used to be for me, how I used to be for you.

It's strange how love makes us look past all the glaring flaws people have.

'And even though she was sitting in the seat next to him, Eddie felt her in everything, in the steering wheel, in the gas pedal, in the blinking of his eye, in the clearing of his throat. Every move he made was about hanging on to her.'

The tears came effortlessly. They rush on and on, like a mini waterfall, his tear ducts giving way, like the floodgates crashed open by overwhelming waves. Still, he felt no sadness, no anguish. All he felt was a void; a gaping hole in his heart. After all those deflections of how he hadn't got an inkling why, he knew now the answer.

It was like watching a part of himself walk away, beyond the sliding doors, the transparent planes.

That part of the world, he had walked. Of course he did. The ravages of time had sought to cover his scars, but seemed to have left everything else peacefully alone. The leaves that littered the pavement were still there. So were the yellow flowers atop the high trees he used to tuck behind her ears. The paper windmills spun gleefully as a gentle breeze picked up. And the stars, the stars that hung in the sombre night sky, that particular night when they first danced down the alley, laughing, playfully teasing each other.. They still shimmered like faraway fireflies, a surreal landscape known only to them. He watched them twinkle at him, alone now, and he could feel their whispers. He felt his chest tighten, and emotions gripped him again, and the tears began again, and the windmills still whirled, unaware; unknowing. He steadied himself, bathing in the afterglow of the glistening, dancing lights. They seemed to understand, and now they're his companions; his comfort.

'Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn't. You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted.

A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle.'

He didn't understand why they refused to leave him alone. Perhaps it looked to them as if self-pity was upon him, but it wasn't. That was the furthest thing away from the truth. Then again, he was used to all these judgments. He hated them, these poisonous fruits of one-sided stories. He was sick and tired of trying to clear up misunderstandings. He had learnt over the years to be nonchalant over it, and things will clear up on their own. The thing is, there was still the aftermath of judgments; the destruction of precious friendships.

But that didn't matter now. That was the last thing on his mind.

She had talked about her dreams. He would share his alongside hers. It was a heartwarming scene, two young lovers, faith abundant, trusting; believing. And even as Fate intervenes (cruelly, he'd sometimes feel), even as she stands now in the backdrop of the setting sun, chasing her own beliefs, he would make a conscious decision to pick up the gauntlet, to start fighting. Again. He had been distracted until now, but now is a different story, now is when he'd jump ship, and set sail towards his own horizon. Maybe somewhere along the way, he might meet her again. But the epilogue will have to wait. Like all other good stories.

Even angels leave someday.

'It's not that we're scared.
It's just that it's delicate.'

(Might I care to add the fictitious nature of the above?)