R.I.P: to the incorrigible girl who once loved sunflowers and butterflies.
For angels tread on heavenly grounds, I dare not set my foot on the clouds.
There is this nonchalance that she and the world shared. None ever did tread upon each other’s roads, but walked past by, always.Her worst fear and her greatest desire stemmed from one single line of thought, what if she disappeared? There was not much fear for the oblivion as there was curiosity.
The fear,THE nightmare was the fact rather that she will never be looked for.
ever.
Strange are her ways, for she wants to be looked for but not found.
The fact that she had the ability to disappear gave her the sky that she was so overwhelmed by but just at
that point, her feet searched for the ground, the home she never found. Very few people knew her as someone who was damningly vulnerable; they made good use of that. For others she was strong, obstinate almost; but for her she was TOO strong, too strong to carry on, sometimes; for strength was a tough call when it came to doing things on her own,she almost always freaked out, she could have been called a coward at best, her cowardice giving her, her biggest flaw; Honesty.
that point, her feet searched for the ground, the home she never found. Very few people knew her as someone who was damningly vulnerable; they made good use of that. For others she was strong, obstinate almost; but for her she was TOO strong, too strong to carry on, sometimes; for strength was a tough call when it came to doing things on her own,she almost always freaked out, she could have been called a coward at best, her cowardice giving her, her biggest flaw; Honesty.
She spoke her heart out always, not knowing when to stop, where to draw the line.
Paradox was her second name.
Her ego was too huge for her to open up for just about anyone, leaving her alone, lonely at times.
Her inability to draw lines, led to her losing immensely, leaving her alone, lonely at times.
She was a sucker for mush and love stories and there have been umpteen nights where she has spent crying and sobbing over a stupid love scene.
Mornings were much better for her though, they better suited her; but like all things good for her, she maintained a distance from them.
Happier during the day she’d flinch and make a face when her mate would talk a little mush. She would do just about anything; she had very few rules, but hated it when someone else did it.
Happier during the day she’d flinch and make a face when her mate would talk a little mush. She would do just about anything; she had very few rules, but hated it when someone else did it.
She was hugely defensive, her guards up as soon as someone said something remotely nice to her; yet, she fell in love with almost every guy who gave her a little bit of attention.
oh did I mention that she was a observer, yes that thrilled her, sitting for hours pointing out tiny details, noting how the hands move, how he looks…the smiles and the words…she was a sucker for words, the beauty of a single word, those monosyllabic poems or volumes spoken about a single thought.
Yeah she loved words, she fell for them always.
She hated being called when she was working or writing or listening to a song or watching a movie, she wanted her peace of mind, her solitude almost always and all the time.
Yet, she despised it.
There were these certain times where she wanted a friend, a silent partner who she can discuss the world with, her stories, music,movies, her stupid theories, who might not have the same tastes yet someone who loved conversations just as much as she did.
oh did I mention that she was a observer, yes that thrilled her, sitting for hours pointing out tiny details, noting how the hands move, how he looks…the smiles and the words…she was a sucker for words, the beauty of a single word, those monosyllabic poems or volumes spoken about a single thought.
Yeah she loved words, she fell for them always.
She hated being called when she was working or writing or listening to a song or watching a movie, she wanted her peace of mind, her solitude almost always and all the time.
Yet, she despised it.
There were these certain times where she wanted a friend, a silent partner who she can discuss the world with, her stories, music,movies, her stupid theories, who might not have the same tastes yet someone who loved conversations just as much as she did.
She never looked for anyone though, she did not think she was good enough;
people came stayed briefly and left, she did not ask anyone to stay, she did not think she was good enough
She was always left, always left alone, for her own good, for their own good.
Her smiles and tears were, to her amusement, always there, irrespective of anyone being there or not.
She was always left, always left alone, for her own good, for their own good.
Her smiles and tears were, to her amusement, always there, irrespective of anyone being there or not.
She learnt to live alone, alone in the crowd, alone in someone’s company. She hated that, yet secretly she knew that gave her independence, in a very pathetic way one might think, but it did. The fact that she could not receive/accept love gave her the secret strength to lose; for she lost, always.
There is no faith anymore, no more hope; neither fears or illusions.
There is just calm.
There is just calm.
This for the girl who once loved sunflowers and butterflies.
May you rest in peace.
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the post was off.
i never intended to repost it again...but someone did look for her after all...
it is for you Blasphemous Aesthete
.