you to me are beautiful

Laughter is beautiful. Kindness is beautiful. Cellulite is beautiful. Softness and plumpness and roundness are beautiful. It’s more important to be interesting, to be vivid, and to be adventurous, than to sit for pictures. A woman’s soft tummy is a miracle of nature. Beauty comes from tenderness. Beauty comes from variety, from specificity, from the fact that no person in the world looks exactly like anyone else. Beauty comes from the tragedy that each person’s life is destined to be lost to time. I believe women are too hard on themselves. I believe that when you love someone, she becomes beautiful to you. I believe the eyes see everything through the heart- and nothing in the world feels as good as resting them on someone you love. I have trained my eyes to look for beauty, and I’ve gotten very good at finding it. You can argue and tell me it’s not true, but I really don’t care what anyone says. I have come, at last, to believe in the title I came up with for the book: Everyone Is Beautiful.

 Katherine Center

who i am after you.

where we are is bad timing. where we were seemed have been buried so deep into the soil that i almost don’t remember how it was. i keep looking for moments that were long gone. that we try so hard to rekindle. what i want is to be somewhere where we don’t have to pretend to be strangers until we’re alone.  where you don’t have to be in another room so you could take a call. where we’re allowed to do every stupid little thing without having to offend anyone or thinking of excuses.

i miss being able to publicly be us without this conscious fear of crossing boundaries. since everything, i don’t remember the last time i have allowed anyone to get close as you did. i have been scared ever since. i have muted all my emotions; tucked them deep inside – even to you nowadays – believing they’ll be safer with me. i miss being completely myself – to love freely and unconditionally.

it is. forever will be. bad timing. i feel hidden. and i don’t know why.  i lost who i was before you, when i was with you, and became a scatter of hesitation.

it’s unfair to get to be a part of your world. knowing that it is only temporary. that it is never going to last. and everyday my heart gets broken. that it never ceases to break. because of the thing that i did. because of the wish i could have have.

i am still searching for who i am after you.

huhumm.. :-/

Here you are

– hurting, waiting, wanting for something to change. You ask yourself about a hundred times, is it something you said? Maybe. And then you ask yourself a thousand more times, is it something you did? Possibly.

But in the end – yes. It’s always your fault, never ever his.

‘Cause you are settling with this mentality – it’s not you, it’s me. And you are willing to swallow your pride, than hurt his ego. And you choose not to break your silence, even though you know you are free to call him out on the bullshit he’s blatantly putting you through. But yet, you can’t find the courage in your heart and the wisdom in every fiber of your mind to simply – walk away. Why?

Here you are – this question must have crossed your mind more than a million times. ‘Cause for the seventh or eighth or maybe even the ninth time, you toss and turn in the middle of the dark night, in a dark silent room, listening to the rhythm of your own breath. You inhale, then exhale. You feel your heartbeat pulsating – in your wrist & on the tip of your fingers. Then the question once again arises in your mind that longs to rest. Why? Why can’t I let go?

Oftentimes we hold on to things that make us the happiest, give us the most bliss, things that makes our heart feel at ease. In contrary, the other times we hold on to things that does not always reciprocate us with something good. Gives us nothing but false hope and a cycle of reoccurring bullshit.

But even though that may be the standpoint, we continue believing one day, some day, somehow our patience, our willingness to endure and our days of hurting, of waiting, of wanting, we wake up to an end for all of those & a beginning of something better, something more.

And when that day comes, walking away and letting go would not once again cross our minds.

cities of subselves

’ve seen way too much and wore my heart on my sleeve way too often to forget what it’s like to feel so fragile and impermanent. i’ve built cities from the depths of broken hearts only to watch as they burst into scintillating luster but i’m only human and humans try until they bleed or until life robs them of strength. i’m tired and my eyes are weak from the burning desire to see beyond the concrete truths. This is all that it’ll ever be, between you and i, me and the next, just like how it’s been with everyone else. i am that comfort, that change, that temporary escape; a distraction. i’ve accepted that a long time ago so I stopped hoping for things to be different. i’ll help you and i’ll hold your hands but when my time is up, i’ll be on my way again and i’m supposed to believe that it’s okay.

public secrets

there is no such thing as secrets. only hidden truths. those that we try to bury beneath layers of overbearing shallow aesthetic spectacles. waiting – anticipating – to be uncovered. for something or someone special to share them with.they’re there. on top of an open palm of everyone.

you just have to prove that you’re just as special as these truths. for someone so guarded, you just have to be worth it. and in that open, unreserved moment when all have been by its naked self,  you just have to be there.

talk to me. don’t talk about me.

i think it’s better to just SHUT UP and leave you to yourselves. i learned to stop explaining. it’s better to stop explaining. it’s best if i just stayed away, learning to love what i have on hand even if i hate it sometimes. there’s so much effort trying to explain things when you’ve already assumed what you would like to hear. it’s a complete waste of time.

if you’ll hide me in riddles. i will let you. if you’re quick enough to turn the other cheek and take my actions as something against you. i will let you. if you’re going to  there’s no point really to comfort something that has been thoughtfully concluded.

i will live in my silence. always from now on.

do what you love.or.leave it.

There are 8765 hours in a year. Assuming you have a fulltime job, you will spend 1920 of these hours at work — at least. That means your job accounts for 20 per cent of your time – so from a strictly mathematical point of veiw, what you do for a living has a significant impact on how you spend your life. Do what you love, or leave it.


if someone chooses to stay after you’ve laid out everything that happened with you on the times years and distance have separated the two of you, and still is willing to take you or even wait for you in spite of how damaged you’ve become.

it’s something. that counts for something.


All I hear are noises
not really making any sense
being used to it
i’m used to it,
but never comfortable,
never really been at ease
there’s just waiting
– for something significant
for something outstanding
for something worth looking forward to
the hypocrisy is more defining
than the smiles they so pretentiously present
i could only speak in hallow volumes
on a damned congruence
to everything flattering
I’d rather take the isolated road
and linger whilst I’m there
taking refuge in the alone-ness,
caring less for what might be there,
of what might be there
of what might be waiting..

and it is


in progress…