The truth from within his retinas was never the purpose of him living, it certainly wasn't his purpose of loving another mortal of his opposite gender. He never knew one slight of sight could catch his breath and seal it forever with someone else's grip, someone else's lips, someone else's orders and commands. "The world is weird," he thought. It is as if he was never apart of the universe that is so large and his soul and moving body is also fitted into it. Strange

The cracks of the window is his only source of light
Giving him his last bit of hope
The hands he raised committing shadows to be formed
Making animals with them
Left as his last source of entertainment

"God, please set me free
Please, I'll repent and cherish life
The way I should
Give me freedom
Give me fresh breath of air
I lust to bathe under the toxicity rain
Getting burns from the sun I once hate
I lust to turn everything all back around
Please god
Save me
Set me free
I offer you my soul
My time
My life
My flesh and bones
Myself

Julius- What happens when love dies between two people

She whispered in his ears. In the sheets of his bed. From the side she touches him gently. Twirling her index finger in circle around his chest to his neck to his cheek. She's not smiling. Her eyes are locked on the movement of her finger. She finds his eyes; "Remember what you promised me?" Cold hearted he is, avoiding her contact. Without even looking, "No." Thus turning his back to the other side. Showing his bare back with maps of scars coming from every direction, leaving her speechless, as she struggles, gasping for a breath of air. She touches the roots of the scars. Some deep, some just remain as black bruises. She feels the heat from her chest, coming from the memories that plays in her head signifying every cut. One from the fights he got in to save her from the man she once loved, one from saving himself from having to ler her go, another from a fall, all with relations to her. The long hair she kept for him to play, for him to admire always, she tossed to the side. Swallowing her tears, salty and bitter, along with the love she still feels for him too much, too deep that it hurts beyond compare. "Well- I remember everything. Everything."

I need time to see the blankness of the world in his hands while he spits to the hell fire that burst flames to the paradise that is the neighbour. His head filled with thoughts of the past that swims and wanders around the made up walls his own eyes can see. He picks up the ashes from the ground that fell from the ciggarett he inhaled with his almighty strength while it is still hot and ignore the heat like it was nothing. He loves to push his hair back and with that the whole world dissappear within his touch. The universe that he lives in with him as his center stage and the other people around his are just the co-actor and actresses. He's devine, full of myteriousness. He change his nature with the change of companion. He is never the same. He is never vivid. He doesn't fit in. He stands out. And proud.

He's beautiful

When he holds the mic in his hand and he sings his lungs out. His voice breaks at the just-the-right parts. His body tilts from one position to another. And his hair that sticks to his face due to the sweat from the heat of the lights above the stage and the asphyxiating crowd. The smoke from the cigarette that he inhales every once in a while. The forever sinful pose of him asking for forgiveness. And from who? From god? From the crowd? From the devil? From someone in particular? From his fans?

Well, that's the question now isn't it

I look at the bitch
She sists across the table in front of me
Her eyebrows refuses a million things
Curving up and down showing disagreements
Then she plays with her phone
Smiling like a brat

Her idiotic personality
I must tolerate
Her unfair judgements
I will keep in my heart
Better yet, in the door that locks all misfortune
I'll try to resist
The alluring calls to kill her

I won't stoop so low
Just to prove my points
No
It hasn't reached to that state
Not yet
At least

Wait

The desperate walls that I've spent 17 years building around me, they're finally crumbling. The sun from outside that was never there when I first built it, had shown its sunrise through the cracks. The clouds that was always letting down tears, raining over my concrete prison, who sympathized me, have finally let free the sorrows. The wilted grass that led wilted trees spread colour at the raise of the shimmering sun. Creatures that were never in my mind, emerge and welcome me to their anesthesia hearts. I am now standing at the center of my universe. I am witnessing the change of everything that I had killed in my pass gaining back life. Everything that is in front of me takes the colour of my heart, black. But their faces, their nature, like mine, all with two perceptions. They accept it. It allows them to be human also. I built this, and yet I stored myself in the dark room. I've escaped. I am finally free. I will never, look back again.

It'll really make sense if you'd read this while
"Wait by M83" playing at the back

Let me try to explain

I am bare and I am transparent. I am showing off the repulsive side of a girl. I am letting people know of my schemes and my bad fair trades. I am feeding them scoops of mini demonic thoughts. I am channeling them programs of the good in evil. Nobody's stopping me, no one seem to mind. I look plain old pure child to them. Let me tell you what I feel. If I could whisper my thoughts to you, I'd burn your ear with the heat from my mouth. And you would not be able to know it. To even come close to it. Let me tell you what I feel, I say again, but only three words, the opening, your eye would run out wide and there would be gaps through your upper and lower lip. You would not be able to think properly, you would not be able to find peace in the few places you had use to find one. You would not be the same. So, how do I tell you this; I don't.

List Of Things That I Want [2013 + 2014]

1. A long sleeved shirt/sweater, black in colour with a huge picture of Julian Casablancas 
2. A long sleeved shirt/sweater, black in colour with a huge picture of The Strokes
3. A long sleeved shirt/sweater, black in colour with a huge picture of Johnny Depp
4.  Money. Lots of it
5. Time, to myself. Lots of it
6. A Typewriter 
7. A box that contains 100, 36mm - 800 (if possible, 400's fine also) films (coloured) 
8. A box that contains 100, 36mm - 800 (if possible, 400's fine also) films (black and white)
9. A Discman
10. A Cassette player
11. A new radio, that plays both cassettes and cd's
12. All of The Strokes' albums
13. Julian Casablancas' Phrazes For The Young's album
14. More money
15. A new camera. Olympus Trip 35 to be exact. Black in colour
16. A month or 2 weeks trip to 'anywhere' with my friends
17. A great experienced of vacation + activities after SPM
18.  A great part time job
19. An awesome result for SPM
20. A submission to MassComm, and experience the greatest Collage life ever with the exceed knowledge of becoming a successful journalist

The list continues.. next year I hope

5810 (Flashback)

I respect her ways, and how she gives us her knowledge. I am grateful for all the principle she holds. But like all the human on this bare earth, she has her flaws. One that I must say is quite foolish for someone with her standards, her achievements. She has narrow, close minded, and limited point of views. Its disappointing to be honest. Its a shame. She only sees the bad and rarely notice the good. She beliefs that the young generation is a constant poison to this already dying world. She beliefs that no good will be in presence in the future. How could she fight for those unintended false perception? That is why, like the other adults, she's also a disappointment