He stretched out his hand desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and best, forever.
The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
Oh, how people love to disappear from your life. Especially when you already got attached to them.
Anton Chekhov

(Source: general-katz)

I either eat too much or starve myself. Sleep for 14 hours or have insomniac nights. Fall in love very hard or hate passionately. I don’t know what grey is. I never did.
The Opposite of Love

Cutting out a part of your heart is no easy task. It is done out of pride, out of fear of more pain, out of spite and out of revenge.

It requires a blade of malice that can plunge ruthlessly, repeatedly into your chest through flesh and bone, pierce into your heart with precision to carve out, bit by bit, the part you are no longer willing to keep.

You must have an iron will of hatred, you must not be moved by the screams of pain, you must ignore the whispers of hope, you must maintain the will to kill the best along with the worst.

It has to be executed with a cold and calculating mind. Cast away your sentiments and do away with your conscience, purge your soul of hopes and dreams and turn it into stone, seek vengeance at all costs and give no respite. You must prove there is no divine force in this world, not even love.

On the surface you have to be utterly indifferent, the best actor of all. Do not show any signs of weakness. Utter no words and shed no tears, because the opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.

The aftermath is a carnage of mutilated ideals originating from the beliefs that used to make you whole. There is no turning back, your chest is an open wound and that part of you is gone forever. All that is left is this void that nothing can fill, all that is left intact is your ego and your fear.

No, don’t be disgusted. Do you have what it takes? I told you, this is not for the faint hearted.

Deep Water Bay, Hong Kong

A glimmer of summer during February, a nice day out at the beach, a nice dinner at sunset. 

Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong

The iconic neon signs, so many pictures have been taken, so much has been said. It is always nice to have pretty lights shining.

Great Wall by Zur@imiAbro@d

Lenka - The Show

"I’m just a little bit caught in the middle. Life is a maze and love is a riddle. I don’t know where to go, can’t do it alone I’ve tried, and I don’t know why. I’m just a little girl lost in the moment. I’m so scared but I don’t show it. I can’t figure it out, it’s bringing me down I know. I’ve got to let it go…"

Couldn’t have put it better than that even if I tried.

(Source: blissfullyunsure)

The Paradox of Ambivalence

We love the people who hurt us and we hurt the people who love us. In this crime of love clearly misunderstood, specious arguments are expressed in deafening silences, senseless feelings are exposed by invisible tears, and bittersweet memories are remembered with a hint of a sad smile. In this great tragedy angels are cloaked as demons and innocence is masked by evil. From this tangled web of emotions and half truths we attempt to seek clarity and decipher where it all went wrong, hoping we may find solace under the darkened sky to quell our tears for our fallen stars.

A Fragile Flower

You scaled my walls and you broke the gates - ruler of my world, conqueror of my heart, I was the fragile flower you tamed. The unstoppable wind of change swept us away, now lost amongst the roses I have yet to find your smile again. I look up to the clouds and wonder if the sky is filled by glowing stars of hope or a dark void of despair. Does my angel still exist somewhere? Is our love still true?


Miles Walser - A Sonnet of Invented Memories

1. I told you that I was a roadway of potholes, not safe to cross. You said nothing, showed up in my driveway wearing roller-skates.

2. The first time I asked you on a date, after you hung up, I held the air between our phones against my ear and whispered, “You will fall in love with me. Then, just months later, you will fall out. I will pretend the entire time that I don’t know it’s coming.”

3. Once, I got naked and danced around your bedroom, awkward and safe. You did the same. We held each other without hesitation and flailed lovely. This was vulnerability foreplay.

4. The last eight times I told you I loved you, they sounded like apologies.

5. You recorded me a CD of you repeating, “You are beautiful.” I listened to it until I no longer thought in my own voice.

6. Into the half-empty phone line, I whispered, “We will wake up believing the worst in each other. We will spit shrapnel at each other’s hearts. The bruises will lodge somewhere we don’t know how to look for and I will still pretend I don’t know its coming.”

7. You photographed my eyebrow shapes and turned them into flashcards: mood on one side, correct response on the other. You studied them until you knew when to stay silent.

8. I bought you an entire bakery so that we could eat nothing but breakfast for a week. Breakfast, untainted by the day ahead, was when we still smiled at each other as if we meant it.

9. I whispered, “I will latch on like a deadbolt to a door and tell you it is only because I want to protect you. Really, I’m afraid that without you I mean nothing.”

10. I gave you a bouquet of plane tickets so I could practice the feeling of watching you leave.

11. I picked you up from the airport limping. In your absence, I’d forgotten how to walk. When I collapsed at your feet, you refused to look at me until I learned to stand up without your help.

12. Too scared to move, I stared while you set fire to your apartment – its walls decaying beyond repair, roaches invading the corpse of your bedroom. You tossed all the faulty appliances through the smoke out your window, screaming that you couldn’t handle choking on one more thing that wouldn’t just fix himself.

13. I whispered, “We will each weed through the last year and try to spot the moment we began breaking. We will repel sprint away from each other. Your voice will take months to drain out from my ears. You will throw away your notebook of tally marks from each time you wondered if I was worth the work. The invisible bruises will finally surface and I will still pretend that I didn’t know it was coming.”

14. The entire time, I was only pretending that I knew it was coming.

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