Lead that shadow to its rightful place.
That shadow is a visual of reality.
It doesn’t have the power to overcome you.
It is you who leads that shadow.
Don’t be afraid by the mere black reflection of yourself.
That shadow won’t be there without you, who can still manage to be sun kissed.
Who can still have the effort to absorb all those vitamin D’s provided by life.
Don’t panic about having that visual of reality.
It looks too real but it doesn’t have that mind like yours.
Remember, it won’t be there without you, just glare at it and lead it to its right place.
It Is Well
Don’t give in too much.
Don’t be too polite in replying to every message that he sent.
Don’t be too considerate.
Don’t perceive things emotionally.
Don’t turn a stone into a universe.
Don’t turn around.
Don’t make a friendly conversation into an enticing, romantic one.
Don’t discern for his thoughts.
Because eventually you will fall. You will fall way too hard.
Too hard you will turn into pieces and later on to a stone.
Don’t give in too much. Just don’t.
Stay away from stereotypes.
You are a strong and independent woman.
Be witty enough.
When in Thanh Hoá, Vietnam.
It’s a relief I can still jump with my friends and scream my heart out. Phew!
Thanks to the boomerang application for this shot.
Jump and fight gravity.
Get out of the stereotype world. Get out of that door.
To be stylish is to be you alone.
To be stylish is to build everlasting legacy.
To be stylish is to be free from dubious thoughts.
To be stylish is to rock glittery outfit during the day.
To be stylish is to wear a combination of navy blue and black.
To be stylish is to take a candid photo without thinking about the standard angles.
To be stylish is to shut insecurities down.
To be stylish is to be a giddy gent/lady.
To be stylish is to appreciate one’s self.
To be stylish is to break rules and stereotypes.
To be STYLISH is to be YOU alone.
Go and have a break. Be stylish and be your own stylist.
I am known for being a talkative arse since high school. I hate ‘dead air’ the most, I hate going out without someone to talk to. I hate those awkward stares from the people I passed by when I’m alone (maybe they also hate me for my cold stares). Sometimes being alone doesn’t really mean I acquire silence. I especially refrain from going out of our dormitory when I don’t have someone to accompany me, because my skeptical mind is shrieking its own soul when I’m alone. I would rather be a worry-free, talkative arse with my friends than being skeptical with myself.
However, there are times that I love being indulged to silence. My definition of silence is when I hear nothing but the flow of nature, without interruptions, and just pure appreciation of being alone. These are the times of anticipating new and inspiring things to come. These are the times when I feel like my skeptical thoughts are being cleared from my memory. These are the times when I realize that I can be a strong, and independent woman being alone because silence is somehow, soothing. Silence is what gives me power, and it gives me that command to execute my dubious thoughts.
If I am expressing mere silence for a day, there is really nothing wrong with me, I am just cherishing those moments where I don’t talk to anyone at all and all I have to hear is the flow of nature, the mere sound of things that are moving, the deep conversations of the people around me, the rustling of vehicles outside our dormitory, the EDM music in my headset, etc.
Maybe silence of one’s self is what I am pertaining to.
I’ve been inactive in writing again. I was distracted, unaware of my fall. As a college student, I’ve been struggling with time management. Yes, I want to express my inner thoughts every now and then in this blog. I want to escape from reality once in a while. I want my insights to bring me to another dimension of myself. I want to reflect and to write, but I don’t know how my dreams all turned into a plop.
Do you know that feeling when you have so many ideas in your head, then you start writing and suddenly everything turns into a plop? Instead of hearing a commotion of words, you just hear a plop.
Home is hope.
I really want to go home. For a student living away from home, I can see hope.
June is approaching. Time for vacation. Time for refreshment. Time for reflection. Time for rejuvenation. Truth be told, when I get back to the Philippines I don’t want to leave again. It may seem riotous in the Philippines nowadays because of the coming election, but I don’t care. I just want to go home, and be indulged with Filipino culture, tradition, and language again. I don’t want it, but I need it rather. I need to look back to the place where I belong. I need to meet the Filipino cuisine again, I need to be restored. I don’t know if you will truly understand me, but I currently live away from the Philippines and I feel so empty.
I feel so empty without my family.
I feel so empty hearing only few people speak Tagalog.
I feel so empty having to choose to study overseas, overwhelmed by my expectations.
I feel so empty, not knowing that I’m betraying home little by little.
Again, June is coming. Hope is coming. I’m coming HOME.
I thanked him for hurting me. I thanked him for making me attached. I thanked him for making me fall, especially into that pit. That pit full of promises and sincerity, – love in the making. Though he hurt me while I was hurting, I still thanked him. I don’t know why am I being emotionally thankful for the scars that he left.
Is it because we’re done playing? Is it because I was played again? Is it because another lesson was learned? Did I really learn something? Is it because I am used to being left alone? Is it because I’ve experienced this so many times? Or maybe I just damaged my frontal lobe?
I was scarred, but I couldn’t get angry. I just smiled as I utter my grateful speech.
I asked, how could I betray myself? How could I not love myself? How could I give more to him and spare less for myself?
That night was bizarre. That was that night when I want to cling unto you but you didn’t want to. That was the night when I want to hold you for the last time but you refused. That was the night when we still confessed our mutual feelings, but we declined to be together. That was the night when we ended that thing with each other, even though it doesn’t exist yet. That was the night when we only stare at the dark, empty sky nourishing the presence of each other, knowing that it would be the last time. That was the night when you told me to stop hurting myself. That was the night when I realized that we’re just not enough for each other, but I still chose you. Unfortunately, you gave up too soon. Then, what am I supposed to do?
It’s so hard for me, as a woman. I don’t want to look so desperate. I don’t want to try too hard, so I chose being scarred instead.
It was oddly confusing, but I was thankfully scarred.
This is my first time posting something from Daily Prompt. The question is “Are you a night owl or are you the early bird? What’s your productive time of day? When do you do your best work?”
As the title indicates, I am a fusion of the two. When I had a good night sleep or should I say an 8 hour to 10 hour sleep I would mostly function actively in the morning, but winter ruined everything! Since my homeland is a tropical country it is my first time experiencing winter and I find it hard to be productive during daytime. I suddenly want to be a grizzly bear and hibernate for seven and a half months and forget about the world.
Anyways, I find it strange being more passionate in writing at night. When everything else is dark but I can see the insights clearly. When everything is still, but my ideas won’t just calm down and will bump into each other. Sometimes, I need to meditate first and be emotional before I write. Strange right?
I want to know the best time for you to function. Just leave a comment below. 🙂