of course i'm bitter, bitch

TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE!


wise words.
(and that's how to cope.)

here's lookin' at you, kid

I refuse to be bitter (status quo is a work in progress!) because in all optimism, i believe the sun will come shining through.

Mostly for the truth. Ugly as it is, betrayal is uglier.
It shouldn't bloody surprise then that it takes a familiar face to pull a fast one on you, given that letting your guard down didn't seem like a necessity then. It really shouldn't be.

And oh no, you're no strong bird. The borrowed doctrines you live by allow you to exploit the greatest deception known to men. You might not leave a paper trail, but insecurity is still pretty popular, last i checked.

Eventually, the last veto you exercise is against yourself.

Go. Have a ball.

Here we've got a class act; a front that appears accommodating, loyal and even sacrificial. Then without a courtesy of warning, they raise the knife. Well, by the time you catch the glint of the blade, it's almost always too late.

Too late to rectify what was a trust bond anyways.

Self-righteousness is not something to be embraced, god knows i'm far from being a paragon of virtue. I can only hope to sail past the grasp of frauds. Judas, you so fucking are.

To quote a dear one loosely, just like how treaties are signed in the hope of containing future aggravation and mischief, we all just have to do it in faith.

Diplomacy? What a luxury! But grace oh grace, how absolutely necessary.

identify your moment of weakness kind of moment

i need me one of those 'Quest for immortality-the world of ancient Egypt' exhibition, baileys bourbon ice-cream, killer sex day (s).

well, before 5th April anyways.

Look ma, something growin' in my head

I plain forgot I missed you. I'd like to say it was something insanely romantic that brought you right back to the forefront but because it was so minute and dangerously inconsequential, I've come to the realization that conscientiously-buried sentiments are the ones that surprise you the most.

It was your frikkin hand. Yes, memories are lethal like that.
No memoria technica needed here.

Nobody comes close anymore. Nobody.

control is not overrated

five long months till i get my chevy.
here's to something i like to think i can control.

Go on, take one to the heart

Almost feels like a mock-transitionary period, paving the way for something massive awesome.

Pre-fabulousness, it resembles a mid-life crisis, but really, I think it’s a stack-up of emotions; undealt with and carelessly tossed in a pile.

It’s a dark, empty period where darkness takes no shape, only to tease in the form of over-hyped promises getting in over their heads.

It’s no longer distaste for the uncertain & the frail at heart, but rather, ascribing to the belief that life is briefer than we think.

That said, patience has never been a trait I could call my own