tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20918680816315774422011-11-09T10:33:08.532+08:00Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.comBlogger1181100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-37254597303784745322011-08-23T22:13:00.000+08:002011-08-23T22:14:42.181+08:00

She was at the same bar, drinking the usual glass of wine, waiting for the same person every night. He was working there, serving numerous drinks, chit chatting with his customers, longing for the one who can truly talk and listen to him. The bar was called Number 2. The boss named it, hoping that lonely souls could have a nice time there, and leaving the place holding hands with someone who make

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-39080551149307597032011-07-27T11:37:00.009+08:002011-07-27T11:48:26.385+08:00

It was precisely 111 heartbeats I had in the exact minute when you looked into my eyes and whispered "I will always, always love you my woman". I don't care if those words will one day fade away, or whatsoever. Right in that moment, even right now, I embraced and will keep believing in that simple yet melting whisper.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-32510076798628462362011-07-14T10:34:00.001+08:002011-07-14T10:36:16.601+08:00

i think i'm depressed.i'm just exaggerating.but i'm really unwell.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-7353707174005371712011-07-07T12:01:00.004+08:002011-07-11T17:39:33.418+08:00

I really hatemissing youI hate thatannoyingtinglingpinchright in my heartreminding mehow muchI missseeingyour stupid faceI hatethe factthat I stillthink of youeven thoughI've promised myselfnot to.I hate it.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-28465494221612706412011-06-24T11:43:00.004+08:002011-06-24T11:45:50.943+08:00

People are fascinating creatures. Not because we do a lot of good deeds. Fascinating because we do far too much destructive and complicated things to hurt each other just to prove we have brains and are superior than cockroaches. And at the end of the day, we're the ones who have to suffer from our genius actions.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-69140240118708612912011-06-23T09:32:00.006+08:002011-06-23T12:28:32.370+08:00

Putting my bag and breakfast in a cornerturning on my computersitting and day dreaming in front of the monitorwhile having in a hurry the same breakfast every morningchecking emailsmost of them from annoying creaturesstill have to deal with them with a smilebut with a growing rage insidesuppressing this negative vibewhile everyone around seems to gossipabout him and her and you and memaking calls

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-53879694013724810322011-06-22T15:26:00.004+08:002011-06-22T15:32:21.907+08:00

My biggest fear is to see my beloved ones getting old and inevitably leaving me without ever being able to touch, smell, talk and be with them again. Just the thought of it gives me heartache...

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-5494773727520522392011-06-15T11:54:00.008+08:002011-06-15T17:10:34.768+08:00

It's funny how you see someone passing by, someone you were once intimate with, someone whom promised you the world, as a stranger, a complete unimportant creature to you now. All the memories you both had, glimpse in front of your eyes covering the unrecognizable face you happen to bump into. For a few seconds, you get haunted by those sweet words and gestures you two exchanged, but then you are

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-64496540646301263932011-05-23T12:34:00.005+08:002011-05-23T12:41:54.678+08:00

I was wandering aimlessly.Waiting for something amazing to happen.Something unexpectedly sweet to light up my day.I bumped into a big wave of people.Of things. Of scenarios.But none of them touched my heart.I was so close to leave this massive and empty place.Until your hand caught mine and asked me to go shopping with you.For a while.For a day.Forever.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-23123017376662833082011-05-05T09:19:00.005+08:002011-05-05T17:10:36.353+08:00

Can we really live with each other for the rest of our lives? I don't know why, but right now, right this moment, I'm scared...

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-60207653644643392042011-04-29T10:49:00.008+08:002011-05-17T09:39:19.325+08:00

- Say you're sorry. No more no less. I've had enough of your ridiculous coldness. You either love me, or leave me. Stop pretending you still want me. Miss me. And need me. Tell me to my face you are not interested at all, and just turn your back to me. I want to walk away too but I need you to say you're sorry first.- Why should I apologize? And I've told you many times I'm not the type of

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-34460438327893264582011-04-27T17:08:00.006+08:002011-04-28T10:40:26.764+08:00

If you really cared about meif you truly paid attention to my wordsyou wouldn't have hurt me this muchand I'm telling youthis ain't the first timeand I'm wonderingif I'm only your hobbyor someone whom you claimedmeans everything to you.It's not about you wearingthis or thatwith or withoutit's the times you showedyou didn't hearor simply have forgottenmy wordswords which came out from my heartwhen

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-86635437319586274042011-04-25T12:39:00.008+08:002011-04-25T12:51:32.478+08:00

On the 23rd of April, at 1:08 pm, you said I'm reckless, spoiled and I've an attitude problem.But today I tell you what my biggest problem is: I'm ridiculously clingy and I'm going to stick with you forever whether you like it or not, and there's no way you can ditch me out.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-55916425591430777212011-04-19T12:19:00.018+08:002011-04-26T11:51:14.217+08:00

I miss you but I don't need to see you all the time.I love you but I'm not in love with you.I'm very selfish and I enjoy tasting happiness through various ways, and you're one of the ways that I'm interested in to take a sip of joy and excitement.I know you don't love me which is fine because I've stopped expecting that from you.I will never leave whom I've won because of you, since you're only

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-29957028412883122312011-04-04T12:59:00.007+08:002011-04-20T11:56:59.572+08:00

I hate it when I put myself in situtions where I'm cursed to think and rethink a thousand things regarding this one person. Why can't my mind be more open and use that energy on several people instead of focusing on him only? Work brain, work! But it's not about my brain, it's my heart... and that's complicated...

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-16158744936844144982011-03-29T12:56:00.006+08:002011-03-29T15:00:18.753+08:00

I keep picturing you in front of me, starring into my eyes waiting for me to tell you how exactly I'm feeling. Nervous? Tense? Breathless maybe? I don't know, because you aren't really in front of my face. I've to say I miss you. But part of me keeps denying it saying that I just want you to be next to me, and that's not the same as missing you. And perhaps all I want is companionship. Does it

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-15381231922359053282011-03-23T09:51:00.015+08:002011-03-29T10:33:11.080+08:00

Been away for 5 dayswas so distracted thatI couldn't find my waysuntil I finally got backto your arms with a smileonce again...

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-63988821084010116172011-03-02T10:44:00.008+08:002011-03-23T13:01:25.038+08:00

I keep longing for the pasttrying to rewind back to observe every single detaildying to feel what was felt beforedesperate to breathe the air I inhaledthis obsessiveness for living those past sweet moments again and againonly to prove to myself that those precise minuteshours, days and nights really did existis driving me crazy...

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-15381236118750058582011-02-23T11:04:00.003+08:002011-02-23T11:41:58.790+08:00

Knowing that you would do anything, simply anything to put a smile on my face reminds me of how much you complete my life with your love and patience. Thank you for walking past 547.5 blocks with me.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-65841993920551220922011-01-24T16:15:00.006+08:002011-01-24T16:27:27.986+08:00

"Do not think you can get to know a person a lot better by reading what he or she writes because words are just one way of masking oneself..." - that was what he used to tell me when I first started writing. But for some strange reasons, he would always read what I wrote and wonder if those stories were real, were related to me at all. It doesn't matter if they were or not really... Because like

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-22784793713219760472011-01-23T12:51:00.002+08:002011-01-23T12:52:35.315+08:00

You were 1 hour and 5 minutes late to pick me up that morning. In spite of that, thank you for not coming to my life any later because you made me find happiness a lot sooner.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-1041244686498341122011-01-20T10:02:00.012+08:002011-01-24T12:17:59.020+08:00

- I love you.- I love you too.- Why do you say "I love you too"?- Because I do!- No, I don't want you to say it like that! Just say "I love you"!- Okok... I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!- No! Not like that!- Geez! What do you want me to say then? I just said I LOVE YOU!!!- The thing is why do I have to be the one saying "I love you" first? Why can't you say it first?- Because you already

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-64731798076990861682011-01-19T15:49:00.005+08:002011-01-19T17:26:13.598+08:00

You look at me nowI never criedbecause you nevergave me any reason tonot because you've alwaysbeen good to mebut becauseyou just simplyweren't aroundto make me shed a tear.You ask me nowI never told you the entire truthnot because I liedbut because wheneveryou asked me somethingI just never had enough timeto tell you everythingbefore you had toleave in a hurry again.You hold me nowbut I'm no

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-65141718830345789732010-12-29T16:53:00.003+08:002011-01-19T16:07:49.187+08:00

You see a picture of a car in it.A really nice car.But I tell you that's not a car. You find it contradictory.Still I keep telling you in a very assertive way that that's not a car.You find me annoying and ridiculous.At the end you say "you just don't know how to satisfy people emotionally".All I can say is - try to get into that car then, you can't 'cause that's not a car, but an image of it.You

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-6201052174450821452010-12-23T20:42:00.003+08:002010-12-23T20:50:10.672+08:00

When I opened the door and saw you turning around to see who it was, all I wanted to say was "take my love and wear it, don't you ever take it off"... But before I had time to do so, your lips were already touching mine with such a strength that only God, if there was any, could separate us with His mighty powers.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-45008583952793912332010-11-23T12:22:00.006+08:002010-11-23T13:03:09.102+08:00

There are timeswhen part of your pastyour presenttriggers methose are the timeswhen I realizehow jealous and possessiveI can befeelings that I've nevernoticed myself to havetowards anyone elsebefore,those are the timeswhen I knowthis is itthis is the manthe right guywho's been ableto awake all thesedisturbing sensesin medriving me extremelyannoyingpossessivejealousand ridiculouswhen I knowshe and

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-64859291199806430552010-11-19T10:08:00.004+08:002010-11-19T11:34:46.163+08:00

I called you because I needed to hear your voice. Not because I had something to tell you. You once said "it's not about what you do or say, what matters, at times, it's the things that you were supposed to do and say but you just don't do it! that's what matters the most!"... Yea, that's what matters the most... I miss you. I miss you so much... I almost thought I saw you in the lift today,

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-20261173352435310372010-11-18T11:08:00.007+08:002010-12-10T14:50:24.468+08:00

His wife is gone. He told us they were all prepared for the worst after all these years of pain. Still his eyes were swollen because of the many tears he left the other night. They'd been together for more than 50 years, it'd been a long run for them. Seeing the love of his life leaving must had been really painful and desperate, which only he can describe if words can really portrait the hurt.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-545676936581790522010-11-10T17:21:00.002+08:002010-11-18T12:00:21.819+08:00

I'm not really sure if this is love. Well, at least not anymore. Call me selfish. Call me whatever you want for coming up with such a conclusion without asking for your opinion. There's no one else to blame, except myself. I thought everything was beautiful. Everything was unique. Too different from the previous ones. But not really. They all end up to be the same thing. The same boring cycle of

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-23753844395909920992010-10-25T16:32:00.018+08:002011-04-29T11:22:27.256+08:00

I woke up and you weren't next to me. All I could see was an empty pillow with only a few of your hair laying on it. I pulled your pillow and the duvet close to me so I could inhale your smell. That smell was so you. Only you have it. I felt like shit knowing that you were once there, but there was no way I could see you, hold you, kiss you in that precise moment. I missed you then. I missed you

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-67313698501741603532010-10-18T10:04:00.003+08:002010-10-28T23:15:35.412+08:00

"The real act of marriage takes place in the heart... It's a choice you make – not just on your wedding day, but over and over again – and that choice is reflected in the way you treat your husband or wife.", by Barbara De Angelis.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-11783229272506947532010-10-11T11:35:00.007+08:002010-10-28T23:07:43.849+08:00

This place is suffocatingI can't find my way outeverything is so strangeto mepeople walkingpassing me bywith worrying looks on their facesthey make me curiousand I wonder whywhy do they frown so muchand smile so littlebut nobody answersno one dares to answersimplebecause this is lifesomeone sayssomeone finally tells me somethingeveryone is so busywith their own livesthey barely have time for

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-3265115517307178982010-09-03T01:33:00.005+08:002010-09-03T01:45:08.373+08:00

It's about time you wake up. Hurting people doesn't make you feel any cuter. And when you constantly do so to those around you, those who love you, it turns you into something indescribably annoying. Wake up. Wake up now before it's too late. You're not having a cold. You're not having a massive digestive disorder. You are having a very spoiled, reckless and ridiculous behaviour which is worse

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-63532476730141543102010-08-23T15:18:00.006+08:002010-10-28T12:31:48.734+08:00

"I say... I say... I want us to be together..." and so the song keeps playing till I can't no longer let it in.I have no idea why I'm missing you this much even though we'd just had lunch. Perhaps the sandwich I had didn't make me full enough. Or perhaps, I'm just too... too into you. If I could, I would love to in filter myself to every single visible pore of yours, so I could stay with you 24 x

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-68773978186894420832010-08-20T17:05:00.008+08:002010-08-20T17:42:35.031+08:00

She wonders whyWhy she still caresCares about his pastHis past that is long goneGone far awayAway? Is it so?He thinks there's no needNo need for more questionsQuestions that won't solve past issuesIssues that is none of her businessShe secretly agreesAgrees with him butBut her heart is telling her there must beMust be something else, something hiddenSomething hidden that he doesn't want her to

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-32381685644015727702010-08-06T01:14:00.006+08:002010-08-06T02:30:42.953+08:00

It was when you said "all the time". It was in that precise moment. It was right there when I felt my face getting wet. I just found out that whenever you said you were happy next to me, I was being moody with you. Whenever I said I loved you, I was being moody with you. Whenever you hold me tight and looked into my eyes saying how in love you were with me, I was in a mood with you. And it was

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-40208496659072261082010-07-30T00:10:00.005+08:002010-07-30T01:36:41.679+08:00

The door was closed and so you left. You left in such a hurry, you didn't have time... Not even a second to say goodbye to me. And I waited for you, making a fool out of myself until I couldn't bear anymore. Until I got tired of the hours wasted next to the door. Waiting for someone who would never come back again. You were gone.... You went too far away... I can't even remember how we started

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-91354578219568163132010-07-23T18:07:00.001+08:002010-07-23T18:09:33.991+08:00

Airline mileage: the distance in miles between two terminals in a network.- Sir, congratulations! You're our first passenger achieving 2200 miles! And in order to thank you for your constant support, we're offering you our premier superior deluxe service! You're welcomed to share this with your beloved one and earn even more miles together!A curious passenger jumps in and says: "congratulations!

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-69364016151559498022010-06-23T01:44:00.011+08:002011-06-23T09:40:54.222+08:00

The alarm is on at 10 o’clock in the morning. I open my eyes for a moment and think to myself if I should sleep for a bit longer. But I can’t. Because I don’t feel like it. Because I just can’t.I wake up and look in the mirror. I can’t see myself. I don’t want to look at myself. And so I’m off to have a shower and stay there for half an hour dreaming with my eyes wide open what has already been

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-80584126378345211542010-06-10T02:37:00.012+08:002010-06-19T00:50:55.745+08:00

It's raining heavilyand here I amtrying to write somethingthat's worth a momentof yours to read itand each timeI see those lightnings,images come to my mindblurry at first...someone once told me"thunders awake thoughts and memories"and to that, I replied"well, only the unwanted, unpleasant ones"and after saying thathe smiled and didn't say anything furtherI thought I was rightuntil nowit's when I

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-54161118709441294592010-06-04T01:30:00.010+08:002010-12-10T14:55:31.372+08:00

From the very moment they kissed, she knew he was the one. The one who would never let her out again. The one who would never give her back herself. The one and only one. They got married a few years later and had a kid. Everything seemed perfect like one of those family portraits most people have in their houses, with perfect shining smiles from everyone, except from every heart. There's always

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-208400213971322402010-05-23T23:24:00.006+08:002010-05-25T14:14:17.550+08:00

I pop in to this shopcd's are everywherepeople are talkingsongs are playingI wonder aroundnot sure what I'm looking foruntil I hear someone singingand out of a suddenthere ain't no more album coversnobody elseand no more wordsexcept the onescoming out from his lipsand here I amat the 9th avenuethinking to myself:yes, this is the song, this is the perfect song.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-20814773857940036612010-05-19T04:13:00.009+08:002010-05-19T04:43:00.080+08:00

Misunderstandings lead to arguments.Explanations are needed but only if they are done rightly.Otherwise assumptions are brought up and so are expectations.Which will get to each other's nerves and the need for the always-unwelcome frustration and unreasonable attitude.And at the end will only lead to more arguments as the consequence of such a world full of complicated words and emotions.No more

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-86908390812171531272010-05-18T00:38:00.009+08:002010-05-18T10:56:12.336+08:00

It's suffocating. Unbearably acceptable. The more time we spend together, the more I want to stick to you forever. And this is too much, I'm telling you. The fear of losing you one day is really kicking in, making me act like a control freak, monitoring every step you take. Having my eyes on you most of the time only to know exactly what you do and what kind of friends you've got around. The

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-61411998547439777752010-05-14T01:55:00.005+08:002010-05-14T02:29:28.442+08:00

People are moving fast with their faces distorted. Cars chasing each other when traffic lights are controlling the pace. Everything seems to be moving pretty quick while I'm in the car. Someone once told me "when feelings are gone, they are gone and that's the way it is". Is it? So how come those tingling feelings get to come back again? They don't stay for long though. But a few seconds are

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-15079366791208796592010-04-30T02:22:00.006+08:002010-04-30T04:20:06.258+08:00

It's funny how human beings can be so contradictory. Every single one of us. We're in such a hurry to grow up, and then we long for our lost childhood. We tell people not to do this and that but then slap ourselves back for doing what we told others not to. We make ourselves ill earning money, and then spend all the money on getting well again. We think and worry so much about the future that we

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-12269920206580837402010-04-27T02:08:00.003+08:002010-04-30T03:03:49.474+08:00

This place is full of uncertainties, unfairness and disgust. You wonder why is it so hard to have things your way, when you most need them to. Questions and more frustrations invade your brain. And for the 548th time you let this big wave of pessimism embrace yourself. You feel like you are pushed to a corner asking why other people have better luck and choices than you. Why? Why not, you hear

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-39685738705272075662010-04-23T23:32:00.007+08:002010-05-04T03:30:24.991+08:00

Contemplating the fireworks with you was amazing. Watching those sparkling colorful lights dancing in the dark, for almost 15 minutes, made me realize how certain beautiful things were brief... but how one unpredictable sweet kiss was the begining of a path for a lifetime together.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-33685120225565360902010-03-25T03:59:00.008+08:002010-04-30T03:20:04.883+08:00

I try not to think about it, about anything.I try really hard to forgetabout everything.So I force my mind to be blankand stay it that way,but I fail.I pretend I'm relaxedand just let go of my mindto think whatever it wants to.But it gets stuck andturns out to be worse than before.I open my eyes andclose them again.Everything is so dark yetI'm able to look around me.I close them andI can hear my

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-50540142274355653122010-03-23T01:21:00.007+08:002010-04-30T03:36:37.475+08:00

Time runs. Time flies. Time disappears. And when it does it gives you a horrible feeling that you're losing control over a million things. Time. Something so precious yet there's no way to hold it but to live by it. Yes, that's time in my eyes. It's strange how everything moves in such a fast pace, how they make me feel we've been together for a rather long time even though we haven't. You're

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-21172791831192469222010-03-10T16:00:00.006+08:002010-04-30T03:40:34.511+08:00

It's amazing how simple things can light up somebody's day. Little gestures that might not necessarily mean anything to others (but who cares) can have such an impact in one's life.Everything chaotic that was running and disturbing my mind for the past few days have vanished. All of that have gone. Thanks to a very simple gesture with the most powerful ingredient in it: Love. Thank you Love :)

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-13405801588756142672010-03-09T01:08:00.004+08:002010-04-30T04:14:39.029+08:00

I see nothing but your reflection. I wonder why. People are calling me out there. Should I go? Should I step out from this cage? I don't know... Tell me what do I know about all this... Nothing, nothing at all. And I'm just sitting here, looking in the mirror not sure if this is me or you I'm looking through. It feels like I'm done... I really don't belong to this hectic world. But the most scary

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-74126372222119367462010-02-23T11:17:00.007+08:002010-04-30T04:23:16.646+08:00

I don't mind waking up early in the morningwhile my body is still unwillingto separate itself from the comfy linen and duvet(only to get you breakfast)I don't care how many milesI've got to walk in heelswhen my legs are already numb and not mine anymore(only to enjoy shopping and walking around with you)I don't mind getting off worksharp on time forgetting how muchpaper work I'll have to deal

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-907144333473287932010-02-09T14:53:00.003+08:002010-04-30T04:28:52.606+08:00

- We are very happy right now...- So, is she "the one" then?- Well... the one or not the one doesn't really matter... I guess, if you had at least lived once in what we call "a platonic love", a "true love with the supposed the one", then that's already a big achievement in your life... there are people living together for more than 20 years without knowing what "true love" or "the one" means...

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-51877446578919955542010-02-04T15:56:00.009+08:002010-05-04T01:45:41.559+08:00

As if I didn't know what harm it could have caused, how dangerous it was. I knew what would happen but I insisted on it without taking your advice. We were rebellions and reckless. And I wasn't a rebel without a cause. And maybe that's why we are how we are right now.I wanted to move on. And I did. But from time to time, the image of you still appears in my head while I'm busy kissing someone

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-71201777127740320842010-01-23T17:43:00.009+08:002010-05-04T02:13:51.788+08:00

I opened my eyes... and it was still 1:50.This dream I had was abysmally unpleasant. It was such a foggy day... I was in a crowded place but my eyes couldn't see clearly... All they could give me was blurry images of people coming closer and closer to me without a clear definition of their faces. And so my hands were trying hard to grab whatever they touched just so I could lead my way on. It was

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-85532262999483183422010-01-13T17:33:00.006+08:002010-05-05T01:58:45.108+08:00

I can't write.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-57018204689435524662009-12-30T16:36:00.006+08:002010-05-04T02:20:41.836+08:00

I hear it.It's getting louder and louder.It's time to wake up...... And I'm awake.The first thing that comes up to me is the smile on your face. You... The image of you standing in front of me as if I'm holding a camera ready to shoot. And every single part of me is controlled by your beautiful presence. I'm your slave, I'm yours. Yes, this is how you make me feel right in the morning when I wake

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-5761499924107161922009-12-23T14:42:00.006+08:002010-05-04T02:29:07.449+08:00

It's not about how longwe've been together,nor is it howwe've bumped toeach other's life,ending up where we areright now.It's how each breathI takereminds meof your smell,even thoughI can't reallydistinguish if it's mineor yours anymore,that sweet scentinvading each corridor,corner you pass by.It's howyou hold my handswith such a strength,and the wayour fingers fitright into each other's,making

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-33715903216097484472009-12-21T12:16:00.013+08:002010-05-04T02:33:33.696+08:00

We had an argument and you said you were too tired. I can't remember why and what we were arguing on about. Whatever it was, tiny or serious, you walked out from my car. I immediately ran after you and grabbed your hand, wondering if it had to be the way it was. You didn't look into my eyes. You just refused to open yourself and let me read your thoughts and whatever it was concerning you. And I

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-82330674301877831422009-12-16T15:18:00.002+08:002010-05-04T02:37:38.650+08:00

Humans are weird, some say. Why? Because we spend our entire lives trying to make things easier in such complicated ways. We tend to tell ourselves we love simplicity and we long for that in every single thing we do. But we fail most of the time because we can't ditch the manipulative and calculative traits in us. We are greedy. We are little desperate insatiable beings. We are born to be

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-23119213402522974322009-12-01T16:20:00.010+08:002010-05-04T02:46:07.849+08:00

To be honest with you, I've no idea what we are doing. Not that I'm not trying hard enough. I just don't get it. I don't understand why do we have to make each other so miserable to prove there is still some sort of connection between us. I look into your eyes and I see myself. And I'm so tired of it. Move on, get over me, leave me alone. I don't want you because I never wanted you at the first

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-38862223637987092942009-11-17T15:10:00.002+08:002010-05-04T03:23:10.491+08:00

He is crafty, manipulative and an exaggerator. He gets what he wants and doesn't allow those things to slip through his fingers. In a very discreet way he drives me to think that he's such an insecure man, who is just too madly in love with me. He makes me aware of how much he cares about me and this relationship, exposing his weaknesses making me unable to blame him for anything. How can I? He's

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-76087176460653777792009-11-11T00:30:00.004+08:002010-05-04T03:19:43.607+08:00

It stopped. And I wonder why when there's really nothing to wonder.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-2601798740037356672009-11-06T11:15:00.007+08:002010-05-04T03:13:22.587+08:00

When I see them run, having fun all the way through, it makes me want to play with them. I haven't had a proper laugh in years. I see her standing nearby the door staring at me, waiting for me to say something. But I can't. I just can't. And I'm not going to. She comes over and kisses me. But I feel nothing. Really. Her lips are cold and it's unnerving how she acts like that trying so hard to

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-56000104511675113582009-11-04T16:58:00.004+08:002010-05-04T03:16:09.019+08:00

When I got there you were already gone. Everything looked the same except they seemed tidier and that bothered me. I walked to your room and I couldn't smell your scent anymore. It was an empty cold room with nothing resembling your presence. You just vanished the entire place, unwilling to give me one more chance to see you go. Refusing to let me breathe you for one last time. How cruel was that

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-30737216129193706232009-10-23T17:41:00.005+08:002010-04-30T04:13:56.209+08:00

I kept chasing it, till it flew too high. All I could do was watching it go, further and further away from where it never belonged.I see them having a good time. Laughing, drinking and cheering, totally enjoying the night. That girl there, she glances at him every once in a while. And he has no idea of it, just yet. People come here to have a good time after a long day work. Far away from all

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-66051175606530616772009-10-22T14:42:00.003+08:002010-05-04T03:43:27.914+08:00

Something is not right.Is it just me or the entire world?Tell me.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-44336435918932481682009-10-13T17:13:00.008+08:002010-05-04T03:46:32.692+08:00

I don't know what I'm doing here, I don't know what's waiting for me out there. If only you could tell me. I'm tired, ridiculously tired. I can fall asleep with my eyes wide open, thinking of you. Is it any good? Thinking of you can only make things worse. Maybe I should stop then. I should put an end to this inexplicable infatuation towards someone I barely know. Yes, I never really knew you.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-41612700796550595142009-10-07T15:49:00.003+08:002010-05-04T03:51:43.117+08:00

I ask for a glass of wateryou give me a bottle,I ask for half an houryou give me your entire day,hey,aren't you tired?you give me too much,indulging me with excessivenessbut without ever handing me what I really want.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-56824572223597683042009-10-05T15:30:00.005+08:002010-05-04T03:57:38.240+08:00

Yes. I think about you all the time. I can still picture us in different scenarios. Your face occupies my eyes in every single way. Your voice invades my heart giving me that tingling feeling around my spine. Yes, I'm still in love with you. And I've been lying to myself for far too many times. What more can I say. Nothing, really. When what I get from you is a simple "it's nice to see you, let's

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-89427547832265244152009-10-04T22:52:00.005+08:002010-05-04T03:03:26.326+08:00

Everything is so out of focus. This face seems distant. Distorted. Tormented. Aggravated. - she says.How are you supposed to focus on yourself if you can't even recognize the real you? - he asks.All I'm longing for is to see beyond what your eyes are reflecting when you look into mine... - she replies.There's nothing beyond. Because it's been too long since we last crossed our eyes. - he

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-3312642672832406872009-09-30T14:22:00.013+08:002010-05-05T01:56:31.306+08:00

"A maior covardia de um homem é despertar o amor de uma mulher sem ter a intenção de amá-la", by Bob Marley (1945-1981).I agree.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-68978665426591883612009-09-28T00:57:00.007+08:002010-05-04T04:00:44.329+08:00

There are so many words I want to tell you. So many things I'd like to hear from you. But we don't say it, do we? Why? It's because we can't handle it. Yes, the truth. Can't we really? If we start pronouncing it, I think we could.Where have you been? I feel like I'm the only one sitting and waiting. It's never easy when you're so suffocated of what you're feeling towards the other person. There

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-47506081611679889722009-09-25T11:55:00.008+08:002010-05-04T18:17:54.897+08:00

Walking away from you is wrongAnd I can never redeem for the things that will happen next.Taking his hands is a mistakeAnd I can't ignore those hands responsible for the crime scene.Seeing you but knowing you can no longer remember meKills me and I can hardly breathe right now.Running to you and listening to those wordsBreaks me.It's over now. It's just a nightmare I had.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-32425354793354724912009-09-21T12:46:00.022+08:002010-05-04T18:23:00.145+08:00

I just woke up from a misty dream. How strange it is to see your face in there. It was blury but I could tell it was you. I say it's strange because I don't usually see people's faces in my dreams. Or perhaps I'm just too shy to stare at them in my own dreams... I don't know... It's disturbing how this is happening. I'm not saying I don't have any desire to see you in them, not at all. All I'm

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-6183114003752897972009-09-18T16:53:00.005+08:002010-05-04T18:25:51.090+08:00

07:09the phone ringshello... hello... hello?! estou?...silence07:15rings againhello? hello?...quietand so they areone doesn't say anythingthe other keeps hoping and waiting.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-16319641367087226892009-09-15T16:39:00.009+08:002010-05-04T18:49:14.673+08:00

Running miles and miles. Chasing the back in front. Someone says is time to stop. Ah, how tempting because I never really liked marathons. I slow down and stay here. You are almost getting to where I am. And this is the only way you see my back and let me get closer to you.I want to show you how much I like it now. But I don't know how to. How does it work?My heart is beating fast. Is heavy

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-3973356108891916562009-09-13T03:29:00.011+08:002010-05-04T23:13:59.354+08:00

"Right at this moment I am the luckiest person in the world.Time goes byPeople changeBut at this secondOnly you and IRemain placid"This place is crowdedhot and humid,people are whisperingtalkingshoutingand laughing.Their skintouches mineevery once in a while.Various scentsdisturb my senses,some are pleasingand othersrevolting.I keep walkingpassing by strangers,mentally portrayingeach person's

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-31227044089425562162009-09-09T22:55:00.011+08:002010-05-04T18:39:32.525+08:00

People say there is always a place in the sun for everyone. Especially for those who want to chase the world. They often close their eyes and think of someone they find themselves in love with. In love with, what a strong phenomenon connecting every single one of us with each other. Yes. You can't see it until you really feel it. If that's true, there must be a place in the sun for those who are

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-80466138737454913882009-09-06T03:32:00.006+08:002010-05-04T18:47:11.869+08:00

She wrote:"When the mistake we made was in never having planned to fall in love"I'm still in love with you. What should I do?He replied:I'm doing all right :)You should move on dear."Distance must come between love"She kept sending him postcards from most of the places she travelled to. He kept replying whenever he could. One day she stopped. He wondered why, and started to send her postcards

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-56081345844924262762009-08-17T23:53:00.030+08:002010-05-04T03:39:33.928+08:00

I'm awake,the first thing I seeis the white ceiling above mecracking and ready to crash medowndownand down.I can't remember when exactly. It happened in such a smooth way. I could barely have noticed until I saw myself picturing us together, more and more often, everyday. By then I realized I felt something. Strong. For you.Why? Why you? Was it the way you laughed? Or how you made me laugh at

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-59037364408044573182009-08-11T00:38:00.006+08:002010-05-04T18:51:12.524+08:00

I'm listening to it. To the song we didn't speak the language of, but still understood the lyrics. How strange was it... 2 days before my departure I wrote at the back of a polaroid picture we took - when can we begin to value not only what is disclosed through words... - and I hung it on your wall full of other pictures. 6 days later when I was tidying up my stuff I found a funny picture of us,

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-87999829793577549432009-08-07T15:15:00.005+08:002010-05-04T18:54:53.957+08:00

This makes me feel really good after realizing how I never received anything like that before until an hour ago. Not the way as I've imagined it to be, but it came out... very pleasing and funny at the same time. Life's so unpredictable.How gigantic... :)

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-58773846253620853692009-06-17T01:05:00.005+08:002010-05-04T18:58:15.375+08:00

I don't know what is going on. I feel like I have no hold of myself, my thoughts and my actions. The world seems so confusing and promising that I no longer know if this is real or mere fantasy. No. I'm lying. This place where I'm living doesn't promise me anything but neither is it confusing. My actions, thoughts and myself are well controlled. No, again, it's not true. Let me put it this way:

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-16092698991208960592009-05-22T01:08:00.003+08:002010-05-04T19:00:59.722+08:00

So, what's the look of love?

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-18762677886012396982009-05-11T01:09:00.005+08:002010-05-04T19:06:03.521+08:00

I was looking out from the window the other day. It was raining. I was thinking to myself how come silence could be so loud between two closed ones. I was trying to figure out what went wrong. What could have been done. What we didn't do. And what was left to be amended. I tried so hard to rethink every step we took from the very begining to where we ended. Details and more details. I started to

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-52141633581501571312009-04-20T11:14:00.002+08:002010-05-04T23:28:15.557+08:00

I am sorry.Really sorry.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-81328252130076115282009-04-15T20:24:00.003+08:002009-07-02T20:17:59.297+08:00

- I'm confused.- No you're not.- I don't know what I want anymore.- You are lost, not confused.- Why can't I have everything?- Your heart is too small for too much going on.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-16618952751324922412009-04-07T14:59:00.003+08:002009-07-02T20:19:27.804+08:00

- I didn't tell her anything.- She knew it.-How come?- Isn't that what you wanted?- Talk to me.- Now that you've achieved what you wanted, you moan about it.- I'm greedy.- You're selfish.- I'm gutted.- You're losing.- I'm lost.- Open your eyes.

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-39118519301379610042009-03-25T10:58:00.008+08:002009-07-02T20:21:56.349+08:00

- Should I tell?- What's there that cannot be told?- If I do, she will ask a thousand questions. She'll try to convince me to do the opposite of what I'm looking forward to. And she'll be disappointed.- Isn't part of what you are looking forward to the same as what she wants?- But if I keep my mouth shut, I'll be just like any other coward.- Who isn't?- If I tell her half of the truth and keep

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-63953792353345194032009-03-18T12:14:00.006+08:002010-05-04T23:08:59.189+08:00

Listenlisten,we were both on the same spotyou travelled a bit fastera bit further,I was still behind youchasing for a clueto make me closer to you.storms after stormsthere were rainbows,we both smiled and criedthoughout the flashing time.I followed you whenever I was neededyou handed me your hand when I was desperate,happiness was in the air.how about now?things have changed.am I walking too fast

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-30589083319343720182009-03-14T19:09:00.006+08:002010-05-04T23:25:24.994+08:00

She brought me home. Cut me half.He took my other half and cut it into pieces.I wanted to be scared. But I didn't have enough time.They were happy enjoying part of my juicy flesh.She then sliced the rest of me with no mercy.He came and devorated every single part of me.I was satisfied because I was made to be eaten.They were merely doing what they were supposed to.And the world keeps spinning

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-26515837398872031562009-02-17T23:24:00.002+08:002010-05-04T23:36:48.643+08:00

It's funny how I longed for simplicity, yet the harder I tried, the more complex my life became. "Didn't I tell you?", you said. You said it so loud that I couldn't hear back then. It's not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't hear you. Blame my reckless side. Blame me for everything. Blame me. "Why can't you see things I see?" you asked. I saw but I didn't quite observe them. I didn't

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-86983305983579515182009-02-10T00:37:00.007+08:002010-05-04T23:38:12.908+08:00

People ask me why. Why? Why not, that's all I say. They find it surprising how such a guy like me can let things the way they are. Why can't I? Because you're not supposed to! What makes you think I'm not supposed to? And so they all sit down quietly and anxiously, focusing on my lips waiting for me to start: my story. I don't like nor dislike the attention. Everybody needs a bit of that, the

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-39455521686775020462009-02-04T14:57:00.005+08:002010-05-04T23:39:23.548+08:00

I wanted so much to fly. To say bye and stay high.You caught me once. I was tammed. You let me go. I was free again.Somehow we crossed the ocean together. I was no longer across the sea.You held me tight, I couldn't breathe. You kissed me harder. I couldn't feel.We didn't belong to each other. How could we? We were never supposed to.You wondered why. I said bye. You gave up on us. And I asked

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-38516625198975705852008-12-30T10:47:00.003+08:002010-05-04T23:41:51.154+08:00

It's complicated... I don't know...I know what kind of situation we are in. I know...You know? Then what are you doing?I just think we deserve a chance. Deep down I know we can make it.I doubt it...Let's do it. Trust me, you just need to trust me.Ok.Something's not right.What?I don't know. Let's not get too involved and see how things go...Will there be a green light again?

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-28681140630886084752008-12-29T17:10:00.006+08:002010-05-04T23:58:42.833+08:00

It's sweet. Too sweet.Can't you handle it?It's too surreal...How?I don't know.What are you afraid of?I'm not...Yes you are. Can't you trust me?I trust you but...But what?I just think it's too complicated...I know, it's not going to be easy...It's just... too sweet for my taste.Don't flatter me with words. My imagination goes beyond mere words you choose to pronounce. I need you to show me how

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-81861349460365374122008-12-26T15:14:00.004+08:002010-05-05T00:02:35.851+08:00

I miss you gorgeous...And I miss you too.No you don't.What makes you think I don't?Because I can't feel it. It's always me calling you.Well, you got the wrong feeling then...Yea yea... liar!Ok... if you insist that I'm a liar...You keep opposing to what I say because deep down you want me to beg you to trust me, my feelings for you. Longing for some sort of reassurance? I think we both know the

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2091868081631577442.post-36750081516691626292008-11-29T15:31:00.006+08:002008-12-26T16:08:46.792+08:00

0 months agoThe clock keeps ticking.Nobody talks until one of them breaks the silence, turns the music on...("What a drag it is, the shape I'm in... Well I go out somewhere then I come home again...")The nurse leaves Sheila's room. Before she closes the door, she glances at Sheila, asking herself what is wrong with this world? How on earth can such a beautiful person be so lost? This world is not

Francescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07448234500074158882noreply@blogger.com1