Completely disturbed by it? Yes, I have to admit it. I have no right to say anything, but the impact it had on me was so strong I wanted to scream to everyone of my opinion without listening to others'. It was unfair. I shut my mouth but not my thoughts. I couldn't shake the thought out of my head.
How do I even begin to express what I felt? you, f, e.. herm. No, not those words. It's not my place to pass judgements to people I barely talk to. The style, the expression, the motive - it was dejavu. I could have sworn the last time it happened I hated talking to anyone and hear another damn bloody plead. I mean I actually felt what she felt, I wanted to grab hold of all her emotions and throw it to the road, let all the cars crush it for her, and tell her, everything will pass - time will heal.
..But where do I bloody start?
I don't want an opinion. I don't want a suggestion. I just wanted to let every bit of my thought go- I just wanted to let it out. It feels strangely good spilling out everything I'm passionate of without anyone disagreeing to it, but who am I suppose to talk to then? Should I just talk to the trees, or the cars, or even my handphone? Should I? I shall write, type, express. I shall sleep hating the world.
You people can or should make all the mistakes in the world, except hurting the people you love the most. This whole thing worries, dissapoints me and what's worst - scares me. I couldn't help being the most scared at this time not because I'm not certain but because I'm too certain. What I have learned from relationships is that you can be with a guy for 5 years, and you still won't know who he really is. You can be with a guy for 80years, and you still won't know everything about him. You won't know how he looked at the girl who just passed you by, you won't know how he talk to the counter-lady in McDonald's, you won't know how he greeted morning to his colleague, you won't know how he commented on his friend's busty cleavage, you won't know his dirtiest nastiest thoughts about a celebrity... vice versa - you can never ever know.
I'm a paranoid freak, who constantly needs to be reminded. Reminded of bloody what, Jacqkie?! What?! It's sickening, and it's deep-shit unnecessary. But the poor self-confidence not in myself, not in the dirty world, not to the other half but to my thoughts, these kniving unforgiving thoughts. My 'thoughts' is a person itself and a mind of it's own - it doesn't need words, it doesn't need action, it just needs visual proves. It needs to happen right infront of her eyes. It needs to see what it wants to see. It needs to feed itself with what it thinks of this world. It's as simple as that... show me what you promised.
Oh God, why create love when you know it hurts people?
Love,
Jacqueline Rowena @ Jacqkie.
How do I even begin to express what I felt? you, f, e.. herm. No, not those words. It's not my place to pass judgements to people I barely talk to. The style, the expression, the motive - it was dejavu. I could have sworn the last time it happened I hated talking to anyone and hear another damn bloody plead. I mean I actually felt what she felt, I wanted to grab hold of all her emotions and throw it to the road, let all the cars crush it for her, and tell her, everything will pass - time will heal.
..But where do I bloody start?
I don't want an opinion. I don't want a suggestion. I just wanted to let every bit of my thought go- I just wanted to let it out. It feels strangely good spilling out everything I'm passionate of without anyone disagreeing to it, but who am I suppose to talk to then? Should I just talk to the trees, or the cars, or even my handphone? Should I? I shall write, type, express. I shall sleep hating the world.
X: We hurt the people we love the most.
You people can or should make all the mistakes in the world, except hurting the people you love the most. This whole thing worries, dissapoints me and what's worst - scares me. I couldn't help being the most scared at this time not because I'm not certain but because I'm too certain. What I have learned from relationships is that you can be with a guy for 5 years, and you still won't know who he really is. You can be with a guy for 80years, and you still won't know everything about him. You won't know how he looked at the girl who just passed you by, you won't know how he talk to the counter-lady in McDonald's, you won't know how he greeted morning to his colleague, you won't know how he commented on his friend's busty cleavage, you won't know his dirtiest nastiest thoughts about a celebrity... vice versa - you can never ever know.
X2: She was a smart girl. Until she fell in love.
I'm a paranoid freak, who constantly needs to be reminded. Reminded of bloody what, Jacqkie?! What?! It's sickening, and it's deep-shit unnecessary. But the poor self-confidence not in myself, not in the dirty world, not to the other half but to my thoughts, these kniving unforgiving thoughts. My 'thoughts' is a person itself and a mind of it's own - it doesn't need words, it doesn't need action, it just needs visual proves. It needs to happen right infront of her eyes. It needs to see what it wants to see. It needs to feed itself with what it thinks of this world. It's as simple as that... show me what you promised.
Oh God, why create love when you know it hurts people?
Love,
Jacqueline Rowena @ Jacqkie.
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