coffee reads,  jar of poetries,  some moments

messy phrases

Under the lampshade, she wrote about something she hardly knew about. Something that she is oblivious about. She stopped for a while and realized she was taking a new path of self-discovery, at the same time forgiving herself for yesterday’s guilt and worn-out fantasies she made.

Yet now, she is writing about different things. She is writing about how beautiful a flower can bloom if given the right amount of sunlight and watered just enough. She writes about the beauty of mountains she longs to climb one day where she can see literally almost everything the view offers below.

You see, she is a dreamer. So much like someone who creates imaginings inside her mind, hoping it will come to pass one day. But as she dives into this exploration that requires the reason to believe a lie eventually becomes draining. So maybe that guy does not really care about her feelings at all, or that one girl’s story isn’t supposed to be carved on her mind just to augment the gap of pieces of information she wishes to know.

Now, she is softly saying to her heart not to care for almost everything she sees as painful for others to bear. She is starting to realize that people have a way of healing themselves, and sometimes she doesn’t need to be involved in the healing process of someone. It is truly okay, she thought, to leave the traces behind and let that someone notice those traces and make patterns out of them for their own consumption.

Millions of thoughts are circling on her mind. She doesn’t know how these could be described through words at times. She simply can’t. She has memories she never had but is fed with nostalgia in reverse. A feeling of wanting to go back on something, only in this case to go ahead of her future. Maybe this was the reason for her pain. Wanting something so much to the point leaves her empty, longing for something she never had, yet very familiar to her.


…and just like any lampshades, sometimes its light turns off, and at times it did, the pen won’t just work. For who can ever write through the dark? Sadly, the writer cannot write what she wants to write simply because plenty of words circling her mind, too much she can’t tame them anymore. Of course, she wants to be okay and at bay. she wants to experience the joy of childhood again. she wants green pasture. She wants freedom from her own leash.

She wants to write, but she cannot tame the words anymore. She wants to thread the thoughts, but the sentences break into a messy phrases.


Maybe someday she will write again, much braver and at peace.

Until that day, she’ll be releasing the words in the hearts of the people she met and to every conversation, she sat through.


hebrews 11:16


  • Hairstyles

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  • Hairstyles

    Today, I went to the beach with my kids. I found a sea shell and gave it to my 4 year old daughter and said “You can hear the ocean if you put this to your ear.” She put the shell to her ear and screamed. There was a hermit crab inside and it pinched her ear. She never wants to go back! LoL I know this is completely off topic but I had to tell someone!

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