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The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart. In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You’d like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic. Your ideal relationship is comforting. You crave a relationship where you always feel warmth and love. Your risk of cheating is 100%. You are not suited for a monogamous relationship. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as something you can get or discard anytime. You’re feeling self centered.

What Are The
Keys To Your Heart?

I have an aunt who whenever she poured anything for you she would say
"Say when". My aunt would say "Say when" and of course, we never did.
We don’t say when because there’s something about the possibility, of
more. More tequila, more love, more anything. More is better.

There’s something to be said about a glass half full. About knowing
when to say when. I think it’s a floating line. A barometer of need and
desire. It’s entirely up to the individual. And depends on what’s being
poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste. Other times there’s no such
thing as enough, the glass is bottomless. And all we want, is more.

- Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

I can’t get these thoughts out of my head. Confusing. Major major neurosis set off.
I ♥ you, B.

She’a a brick and I’m drowning slowly…

She’s a brat. A silly little Peter Pan girl who bestows excruciating pain upon those she effortlessly manipulates and they don’t even know of. She’s mean, merciless and refuses to move on from her depression.

But she’s my Princess. Their Princess. Our Princess.

And I love her.

It is not too difficult to love somebody sophisticated, lovely,
elegantly dressed: such a love is a meaningless reflex automatically
stimulated by the accident of beauty. But a great love seeks to create
a beloved being out of an imperfect creature, a creature all the more
human for her imperfections. Simply Ketch.

One thing I hate, if not the only, about things going oh-so-focken-well is I absolutely have no right and creative drive to blogblogblog.

But yes. In love. I am.

With the occasional paranoia and neurosis attacks, don’t worry. I’m still me. Haha.

Actually, just one for now.

1. Turn safety off and fall in love with him.

OMG. And when I do, I just miiight have a boyfie during the holidays after 2 long years! How egg-sighting. I’ll be sitting at the table by the stairs outside Starbs Emerald while chuggin’ down a grande Toffee Nut Latte and ACTUALLY have a boy I can call my own.

You might wanna read this (last part): http://bitseybloom.livejournal.com/2481.html

Yes, I was Bitsey Bloom.

Oh, another one.

2. Work harder on my punctuality.

Coz seriously, with work that starts at midnight, I can’t use not being a morning person as an excuse anymore. And I mustn’t take advantage of my coach’s alleged fondness for me. That’s just wrong.

If there was something I’d give anything to do these days, it’s be to slowdance with someone who sees me in a special light to the tunes of Walking After You and A Sorta Fairytale under a full moon in a star-speckled sky.

We would do it all night till daybreak. Throw in all those Prom soundtracks that make Catholic high school girls wet their hankies… Last Dance, All of my Life, Without You… yey. Glory of Love, even.

All night long. It’s BTS. Better than multiple orgasms, actually. So so gay. Happy happy joy joy.

Because… she has seen that the boy behind the songs is different from the same boy who sings it.

And the poet is not really… poetic.

Everything for the money. Cool.

Life is one grand popularity show. Whoever strives hardest to please others wins.

If only I let it matter to me, I would be half the corporate tiger those ass-kissing smart asses are. I would be driving home in my shiny white company BMW to my fully-furnished penthouse suite in Astoria. Instead, I walk home under the heat of the sun to my Astoria-gilid apartment. It isn’t all that bad once I justify my choices and actions with standing up for my principles and preserving my integrity. Haha. How noble. And depressingly pathetic. Maybe I should start acting more human… More dependent and materialistic and submissive and surreal. Less… rhetorical.

But really. I don’t kick the ball towards how I think would elicit a loud applause anymore. I’ve learned to aim at how I’m certain the ball would hit the goal. Or maybe not subconsciously. But I wouldn’t want to take away the fun in the rest of what I have to say by contradicting myself now, would I?

If you asked me, I’d say every man is better off as an island. We’ve been overlapping and intertwined and scrambled too much that we cannot tell anymore where one ends and the other begins. Our thoughts and emotions have been deeply influenced and saturated with too many external factors that we are already experiencing identity crises without realizing it. All men would be doing human race a favor by building bridges instead of crashing into each other… drowning whoever’s weaker.

You believe this and that but do you really or do they? Where’s the sense in that? You really should stop living your life by how they react to your every action. Wouldn’t it be so interesting to discover a world where people actually have their own opinions and the guts to voice it out regardless if it would give them snotty remarks and raised eyebrows?

Pleasing people can be very exhausting. No wonder you always look so tired. Congratulations, though. You’re Little Miss Everybody-Loves-You Barbie.

Dr. House is a hero. He is a manipulative bastard. He got shot because of his compassion (lack of)… But it is in his misery and solitude that he finds contentment and solace. Of course, that’s partly because he’s fictional and incredibly smart. But… whatever.

I’ve just heard that Aussie Steve Irwin a.k.a. The Crocodile Hunter was killed today by a stingray. Irwin was made famous globally in 2004 when human rights activists wanted to apprehend him for bringing his infant offspring with him inside a croc pen in one of his zoo stints. Now, you remember?

So, that’s what happens to fearless people living on the edge.

May God have mercy on his soul.

And so she woke up from a dream
That was beautiful and starry and oh so wild
It was all still clear in her eyes
And though her mind was foggy and blank
She wondered why her life coudn’t be as lovely
It was time
There was this king, He had no castle or throne
But his horse was great and white
He rode alone and he liked it that way
But when he met her, he swore
He would never leave her side…

They rode across the land
Two lovers hand in hand
And no danger could come near
And when something made her cry
She’d look at him teary eyed
And he would make her feel better…

Oh… so much better… so much better than before…

And now this forest was their home
It was the night time, and the right time for love
In the dark
She placed her hand upon his chest
And then all the rest just flowed
Making love down under an ancient far away time…

It was so grand
Just holding someone’s hand
And so safety came naturally… oh yeah…
It was so clear that she would never ever have to fear…

Oh, tell me a story
Of magic, and spiralling ships and stars in the sky
Just whisper in my ear
Make it soft and make it clear
I wanna hear every breathe you say
And now this forest was their home
It was the night time and the right time for love
In the dark
He placed his hand upon her breast
And then all the rest just flowed
Making love down under an ancient far away time…

And she woke up from the land
Tears fallin in her hand as she looked up askin why
She laid back in her bed, thoughts racin’ in her head
"Why can’t my life be beautiful?", she said
And she closed her eyes again, just prayin’ he’d return
But only darkness fell upon her…