open your eyes
birth days

as every august comes, i allow for some self-deprecation
more so than the other months
i’ll give myself the leeway to feel small and under appreciated
let all of these feelings get heightened and magnified
just because i can

if you break it down, people celebrate birthdays because that’s the day they were born
the day they a human being gets brought to life!
but what’s it worth celebrating if you aren’t really living?

i’ve been blessed enough with a family that bothers, so i was always conditioned to think that i was special
but growing up made me realise that being special wasn’t so much of a given, but it was to be earned
or at least that’s what i thought

so as it hit midnight, i started thinking about
the many times that i felt like i wasn’t worth it
or the times when my efforts in relationships weren’t enough
i hate how all of this somehow still overshadows the wonderful
i’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, but
you know how it goes

the next day was quietly eventful (i think i finally understood what you had been telling me for the past few years)
had a very comic lunch, a leisurely gallivant around town and a very entertaining dinner after
i was then carefully led to a karaoke lounge in the dark somewhere with all my favorite people behind the mics
followed by some more laughter by the riverside

after some pauses and in my stupor, i blurted something like
"i’m just afraid of knowing that i’m not special enough"

this is going to sound terribly unromantic because i can’t remember what your reply was, but you probably said something positive enough for us to stumble all the way back up to the 62nd floor, happy and contented

though i think it had something to do with “don’t say that” and “we’re here for you”

maybe being special still isn’t a given, but i don’t think it’s supposed to be earned either
as becca moody would say in all cryptic fashion, “it is what it is”, or “you gotta love him for who he is, not his potential”

but one thing i know for sure, love in the right places is always worth it :-)

"
I wait for the day
that choosing me doesn’t feel
like a choice at all.
Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

(via tylerknott)

"

i feel rather happy right now so this is just a narration of how my night went

tonight we went to chinaone for the 10-12 liquid buffet. downed a copious amount of whiskey and tequila. got transported to a good place

then we headed over to butter. moral of my story is try not to stay bored because i end up feeling bad and paying for my own drink and running away. bump was mad crowded so zhao, chuan and i ended up at art bar dancing to slow r&b ballads and bob marley, along with a random indian dude and paulo the bartender. smiled till my cheeks hurt

sat at the steps of butter, watched zhao momentarily transform into a superhero - carrying a dead drunk girl bridal style up the stairs and flipped her on his back into a cab. then watched him help calm down two angry parties in a fight. haha and all i did was watch and laugh

walked to macs in shoes from marcus to save my feet. gulped down one giant ice milo and one small milo. talked about penises and boobs and other adult-like things

took a cab home when the sun was up. took a shower and now i’m here. took a breather and i’m back

i’m pretty sure i’m sober now but i always just end up missing you. it’s such a recurring thing that it makes me wonder whether you feel the same. there’s always such a disconnect when it comes to me!

life’s better with you around :)

bad phase in my life

whatever

wait it out

i’ll get through it

(Source: explodingdog)

"
A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.
Stendhal (via thingsandschemes)
"

lovequotesrus:

Everything you love is here

(via theonlywaytolearnistogetburn)

"
I want everyone to leave me alone and I also want someone to come snuggle me and rub my back. Or I don’t want that. I want you to go away and stop talking and I want a hug and I want ice cream sundaes and I never want to eat again.
"

writingsforwinter:

They ask me about him like questioning a spirit

called back from the dead at a séance.

Want to know if my eyeteeth fell for him first;

it’s long been rumored that the body knows best.

My grandmother used to catch the rain in an hourglass

instead of a gauge or metal pail.

Rain is life, she said. When it stops falling,

you know your time is out.

They wonder if the geography of my skin has changed

since meeting him, if my heart has opened into new continents

the same way Pangaea split apart amid a ring of seas,

if my spine has begun to crack at the mere mention of his name.

But they know nothing.

I could give them metaphors, figurative language

made beautiful merely through being spoken,

could say, I was a series of broken piano keys until he fixed all my strings,

and now, everything is no longer black and white.

But I know better, and so did my grandmother.

I know one day our rain will stop falling.

We are both thunderstorms

and eventually,

we will part ways into the sky from which we came.

when will it ever be enough for me! when? when! tell me! how much is enough? how much can i take! when do the scales tip! tell me! what has to happen? how far can you push it? how far away is the edge! tell me!

i don’t want to listen to anyone! anyone anyone anyone!

"
And the more deeply I felt
the less able I was to respond.
Louise Glück, from Timor Mortis (via violentwavesofemotion)

(via eletheowl)

"