Flooded Feelings

this space.

curiousee — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 07:20:33 +0000

i’ve been neglecting this space for too long.it’s time, perhaps, to return.

new leaf.

curiousee — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 16:07:25 +0000

this new me, i like it – very, very much.

can you hear the heartstrings?

curiousee — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 17:40:16 +0000

bogoshipeun saramnen obso.

how is it possible that you could eject the most wondrous and amazing feelings from me and yet, at the same time the most horrible sense of vulnerability and weakness. i hate to take my every step thinking of your reactions and your thoughts. i wish i would stop caring so much when you obviously don’t care.

i am taking a step forward from today, i will be brave and honest. courageous and beautiful.

i will do what i think is best for me and for those who do care.

bogoshipeun saram obseulka?

and i will believe it.

curiousee — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 19:55:37 +0000

don’t let me know the things i already know.

lie to me.

fools like me.

curiousee — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 21:13:23 +0000

they asked me if i will tell you how i feel about you before i leave this place. almost instantly, i told them no! they said, if you don’t you will regret it. i repeated no! they said, but last time, with ____, you said you would tell him. and i said you and him are different. two different entities, two different beings. i could never compare the two of you together.

he was almost an illusion, one that makes me feel happy everytime i see, look and think about him. you, on the other hand is real. i feel almost burdened, my stomach twists in knots, my heart jumps, my words jumbled everytime i see, look and think about you – and that is most of the time. sometimes i feel that i will just leave and leave it be. sometimes some courage sweeps into me and i feel that i will give it a go. sometimes i feel that you, too, are an illusion but then you bring yourself near and i am here and i feel that one minute, one moment, is not enough and i feel fear.

they asked me if i will tell you how i feel about you before i leave this place. they asked me a question i asked myself almost everyday. i told them no! not because i am afraid of what you will think but because i’ve lost my courage at being a heroine in my own story.

instead, i will tell you how silly you’ve made me feel. how childish you acted sometimes and how generous you are to me; how kind. instead, i will thank you for showing (no matter intended or not) the other side of life that i thought will not happen to me.

make it all you want.

curiousee — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 21:00:57 +0000

on the train home, paris nord to london st. pancras, i rushed to place the memories down. afraid of letting go, of forgetting, of blurring these happiness gained. i rushed to keep everything because really, they are just too precious.

last saturday, exactly around this time, i was on the train back to london from paris. it was a five day runaway period for all of us. a trip planned and canceled over a year ago, fulfilled a year later. there was a lot of procedures, calculations, researches, preparations and assignments to past by before the time came when we had to decide what to bring, what to wear and many more meticulous details one has when going away to a place one dreamed of.

we were young, liberated, curious to know and taste the world, excited to spend more time together, to explore, to see, feel and live. we came with many hopes but armed ourselves double the disappointments (just in case, you know) and we dived head on, towards another country, so near to this world we call second home and into yet another foreign culture, foreign language, foreign experience.

5 days was enough. more than enough and yet, it is not. where do i begin to recount the things it did to me? i remember the beginning, the journey to the end but the most memorable, the most precious – the in-betweens- it is so hard to put them in words.

i want so badly to put them into one coherent passage (maybe a page, a chapter, maybe even more) but right now, everything is jumbled up, chaotic; incomprehensible.

i will come back. to honor these gifts. but for now, i am at once, almost, once again, wordless.

pretty babies, please don’t leave me.

curiousee — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 14:48:24 +0000

i have always know what i want to do in life. i always knew where my path will bring me. i always knew what choices and options are available to me.

but what of my sisters? the two that seem to be grasping to find their own place in this world they seem to be repressing them. when did being honest become so hard and complicated in our world?

and then, beauty sleeps.

curiousee — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 03:22:33 +0000

it has been, oh-so-long since i wrote any kind of real entry here. despite the many layers after layers of written words hiding in beneath the surface – covering, protecting (what?) – i have forgotten, what it’s like to write in order to let go.

words.

i love words so much. i used to be able to put ‘writer’ next to my name. i used to be able to grab a pen (or pencil), find one piece of paper and just write. i used to be able to write out words after words after words. i used to be able to close my eyes, opened them within a second and produce pages after pages of writing. but lately, i’ve become more of a reader than a writer. i read so much more than i write.

writing comes quite force now – a bit awkward. like, meeting an old friend (a good good good friend) after quite some time. not sure of the grounds you stand on, where the bond broke off but knew that you wanted the connection to continue. words are becoming more cautious, feelings more guarded and yet chaotic, syntax forced, metaphors grotesque. i have forgotten, the feeling of just letting out, flooding everything.

tonight, i have so much to say. and here i am, still unsure of where to start, where to begin. here i am, contemplating my old friend – testing, questioning, coaxing, teasing – i want to be able to say it all, again.

here i am once again; almost (but only almost), wordless.

25, cutty sark.

where do i even begin to write, say, express, describe each and everyone of you. how can i ever conjure or construct enough words (the correct words) to tell you how much, how hard, how deep, how crucial, how lovely you guys are to me. what is this bond? what is a name for this relationship that is not enough to be called friendship.

…

i am at loss for words.

one day, when i found my voice once again, i will write such beautiful, sincere, heartfelt and truthful words for you. and i hope you guys will accept it. and know.

you.

i have to write away from here. because i know, you are capable of reading betweentheselines.

tonight

i tried to be eloquent but all i have are these fragments. i used to be gifted with the art of expressions but lack of practice, lack of love for it has rust me away. should i come back, these words shall be whole.

i, will be whole.

go.

curiousee — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 22:41:59 +0000

i’ve been holding back on words and truths lately, mostly afraid of being discovered. but i don’t want to do it anymore. withholding words, means withholding me and i cannot be.

i shan’t be afraid. i won’t hold back.

i am letting words flow, burst, glide, appear – freely, again.

because it is right here, right now.

curiousee — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 14:36:03 +0000

shared this by my lovely, rozmaya and stumbled upon tumblr.com.

Date A Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico

(In Response to Charles Warnke’s You Should Date An Illiterate Girl.)

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

oh, little flutters. little heart.