tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55656763672477449702024-03-13T10:11:55.686+08:00anamellie's thoughtsa collection of bits and pieces of my brain splashed with imagination...Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-4084564665631960382020-04-21T14:00:00.000+08:002020-04-22T08:58:58.917+08:00AgainHer once blissful heart<br />
<div>
is now throbbing with pain<br />
I hope I could love her again</div>
<div>
And again, we'll start.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 042120</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-11391897325594865172012-01-08T00:26:00.000+08:002020-04-21T09:05:04.381+08:00CloudsTime flies.<br />
Too many sunrises and sunsets<br />
Have I watched.<br />
Clouds float,<br />
And everyday I say to them,<br />
How I love you and I miss you,<br />
Hoping they would somehow get to you.<br />
Waiting here<br />
In the great sky underneath us,<br />
Seeing birds fly past,<br />
Gives a calming thought<br />
That we're bound to see the same thing<br />
If not at the same time.<br />
Here, the moon is up tonight,<br />
But the sun is shining gloomily where you are.<br />
Clouds- more clouds cover the moon,<br />
As I say to them,<br />
"I'm patiently waiting for you."<br />
Will I grow tired<br />
Of expecting your return?<br />
I will not.<br />
For I'd watch a thousand sunsets more,<br />
Until you come back,<br />
And tell me what the clouds just said.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 010812Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-36583914065147648802010-07-08T00:38:00.000+08:002020-04-21T09:05:52.321+08:00ChangeTwo wrecked strangers,<br />
Brought together:<br />
Two hearts to mend.<br />
<br />
Change, they want to<br />
Dream, they both do<br />
Try, they strive to.<br />
<br />
Patch the same boat,<br />
Cross the vast sea:<br />
Searching for land...<br />
<br />
Cry, weep or wail<br />
Laugh, startling gale<br />
Sing, raise the sail.<br />
<br />
Two wrecked strangers<br />
Are no more:<br />
Newly found souls.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 070810Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-57549869190578463882010-06-04T02:42:00.002+08:002020-04-21T09:06:24.991+08:00RemorseI hope I will not be able to say this again but... I'm sorry. I have wronged you. I have been as selfish as a dream snatcher that I've allowed you to dwell into the world of the past and made you pick up what you can barely get from your failures. You became sorry for some of the decisions you have made for yourself. There were also times when you thought that the events of the present could not have happened if a certain decision in the past branched out to the opposite of what you have picked. There were times when you thought you deserved the path you were treading on yet you were still mumbling to yourself that you could have chosen better. I admit it was all my fault.<br />
<br />
If it weren't for me, you would be happy with wherever and whatever you are right now. If it were not for me, you would not cry yourself to sleep while dousing the feeling of being able to live. You developed a habit of always looking in retrospect and thinking that you badly misunderstood yourself when you thought that that dream would make you whole; or for your supposedly impeccable thinking that that other dream was just a phase and that more things are in store for you. I know that you can never have time back. This is why I am apologizing to you.<br />
<br />
This is just the way I am. The past is my strong comfort for I dwell in it. So don't blame me if I speak more of it than others you know.<br />
<br />
My eyes are filled with tears and my heart is in pain and anguish as I write this. Please believe me when I say that I deeply remorse the things I've done. If I were to turn back time, as you would have (deeply influenced by me), I would have chosen differently. I would have chosen a path that would've put a smile on your face and would forever set you in high spirits.<br />
<br />
Having to decide between two things is a very peculiar thing, because you either choose wrongly or you choose the right decision. Either way, something is lost. And my influence on you made you think that your one decision caused you to lose a dream you deeply cherished! What kind of being am I? I deprived you of your secret longing; the thing I knew most about you. I can never give you anything; I can never undo the wrong. All I can offer is a silent prayer and a desire that deep down, you can somehow find a way to make things right despite of me. A friend of mine said that you are tough, for you have survived loads of adversities and foes. You can still make your life bearable, if not perfect. As for me, I have gone a long way. I have wronged you and it's time for the punishment- my punishment that I would humbly accept and embrace with open arms. I will be forever gone in your life as deep anticipation erases me from your presence. I will become just a memory, a talisman, like a reminder of how you scraped your knee, or of how your mother scolded you when you couldn't get to write a simple circle on your three-lined paper. I will be forever gone. And in my absence, I will ask someone to take my place. Please welcome her as you have welcomed me. Learn from her as you have learned from me. Challenge her, feed your memories of her and you would somehow be close to receiving what you truly deserve. Instead of me, the antagonist in your perfect story.<br />
<br />
Please do not anymore remember me. I opt to be forever out of your life. For good. Really for good.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Regret</span><br />
<br />
PS. Please open your heart for <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Contentment</span> now... before it's too late.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 060410Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-86601271163316683642010-06-01T20:48:00.007+08:002020-04-21T09:07:33.094+08:00Absence of<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was busy surfing the internet, looking at Youtube videos, commenting on my friends’ posts on Facebook and typing some diarrhea of words at my Blogger when it happened. The lights went out all of a sudden and sheer silence and darkness ruled the whole atmosphere at eight twenty-two in the evening. On top of that, I swear I could almost feel my sweat boiling (seriously not exaggerating here). No, we didn’t fail to pay our electric bill. Nor did my brother play his usual prank of switching off our main power supply. It was (insert drum roll here please) the schedule for power saving blackouts!<br /><br />I and my four siblings hate blackouts. For my two younger brothers closest to my age, blackouts mean putting the electric guitar to a rest. My younger sister doesn’t want to miss her favorite TV show either and that I think is reason enough to justify her loathing for not being able to turn on “Panasonic”. The youngest of us, our little brother hates -not fears- the dark; I know this because he explained in detail that he fears ‘what is in the dark’ and not ‘the dark itself’. My six year old brother is like that and sometimes, I wonder if someone switched his kiddie brain with a grown-up owned one. I mean he’s so good with reasoning than other kids close his age.<br /><br />Anyway, the four of us eldest blindly sought the dark to secure our flashlights while my little brother screamed for “Mommy!” who minutes ago was doing her needlework. All of us gathered for supper with only the candles (and the flashlight) to at least make us see the food we were eating hurriedly. After that, we all decided to make time pass by sharing stories with each other which was strange because we usually sleep our way through blackouts. Much to our little brother’s chagrin, I had so much fun telling ghost stories. I would lower my voice and give them an animated narration and with the dramatic use of the flashlight, I would achieve a haunting effect. Similarly, but with different ‘approach’, my seventeen year old brother was so good at telling jokes and lame stories that we ended up laughing our way despite the semi-darkness. My mother told us her childhood experiences and we gained wisdom from her witty and interesting attitude on storytelling. <br /><br />Soon, everyone was playing with the shadows cast from flashlights. It was amazing how all of us could be creative at showcasing our shadow-casting talents using improvised 'materials' (hands). It was so entertaining that each of us almost had the same look on our faces when the electricity surged again at eleven thirty... and that was disappointment. Our dream world may be short-lived but its end created a new bond within us. It wasn't really all thanks to the inventor of flashlight. And it mainly wasn't for the power outage that things have been different. If we chose to sleep our way instead of opening up with each other, none of the surprising things would have happened. We would have experienced none of those thrills and excitement. I felt like a child again as I realized that most importantly, If we didn't welcome each other, none of us would have shared the individual lights burning within us. I would never forget that moment as slowly, each one of us leap to our beds as we said our ‘good nights’.<br /><br />Almost an hour had passed, but I was still unable to sleep.<br /><br />All the lights were turned off. I left them as is, grabbed my flashlight, pen, and notebook, and went out of the house. This was my way of battling my insomnia attacks. In a moment of sudden inspiration, I was about to write a poem about unrequited love. I beamed the light to the notebook I was holding. Then I felt as if someone was looking down at me, and I faced the dark sky and looked upon the glitter of stars scattered like silver dust on a black blank page. Then I knew I was up for a new topic. I mentally crashed out "unrequited love" and the earlier events of the night flashed through my head. I drank in the sight of the twinkling diamonds, muttered to myself, and scribbled on my notebook:<br /><br />“Without the dark, we’ll never see the stars...” <br /><br />I smiled to myself, and I smiled at that someone looking at me from above, because I knew it was true.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />~anamellie, 060110<br /><br />Authors note: Thankfully, this post is a brownout survivor!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-31770827512764486972010-05-28T21:29:00.010+08:002020-04-21T11:36:02.385+08:00An Unusual Summer<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I was a pampered princess.<br />
<br />
My parents may not own a vast kingdom, or it may not be our obligation to feed a whole country, but I was born with people caring for me and giving me the best. We are not rich but my dad earns enough to provide us with our needs and sometimes our wants. But still, being the eldest child of five, I am expected to help my parents when I graduate from college which is, to put it in a cliché way, so near yet so far.<br />
<br />
Near, because I am expected to graduate this March; less than ten months from now. This is to say that I have to qualify for the requirements and comply with the necessary units and credits. Far, because there’s this low self-assurance that I would even be able to graduate at all. Being an Octoberian graduate is not even far from possible in my case. Pessimistic though it may seem, I sometimes doubt about reaching my dreams. If you were in my shoes, you would comparably feel the same feet as mine- cold. You see, I was not an excellent student. You be the judge if I was even an average. Lately, I’ve flunked most exams as often as you can say “Facebook!” and I never made it to the Dean’s list. My grades were a parade of 2’s and sometimes 3’s. Oh, I do get 1’s sometimes. My grades were not really that “balanced” as my mom put it (Haha! Nice Accounting pun). But the greatest shock (or maybe it was an expected reaction after all) was getting my first ever <i>cinco</i>, an ugly 5.0 in my transcripts. Need I say more?<br />
<br />
The greatest heartbreak I experienced, despite Gibo not winning the presidential elections (another story), was having to take summer classes to save myself from academic distress and being able to graduate on time. Imagine, I was in my Advanced Accounting class while dreaming of smelling the salty sea air and looking forward to the summer adventure I am so eager to experience only to find myself on the same class weeks later, studying the first chapters the same course has offered me one semester ago. To experience such a back track was heartbreaking.<br />
<div>
<br />
I and my parents’ discussion led to the finality that I should “balance” my “depreciating” grades and “carry forward” the mistake I had and learn from it. Seriously, learn from it because as it may not permanently burn a hole in the pocket, “it is still an extra expense!” as my dad put it. So there I was, still studying Consolidated Financial Statements, computing for Goodwill, Consolidated Retained Earnings, Net Income etc. while logging on to Facebook once in a while to drool, for lack of an extreme word, at some of my friends’ (the lucky people) photos of their escapades to beach so and so. Don’t get me wrong, having to take summer classes was not really bad in a darkness-engulfing-the-whole-world way. I guess it was because I was not used to engaging myself with academics while the sun blazed its hottest and the temperature warmest. It’s not as if our classrooms are not air conditioned. But still. You get the point.<br />
<br />
We were given a maximum of 9 units to “use wisely” this summer. So in consolation, I was able to take two advance subjects in Law to lessen the burden of my first and second semesters come school year 2010. So going to school for a month where most of your school mates are chilling outside the country or chasing butterflies at the province has its plus side too. My friends and family helped me cope with the pressure and sadness of not having the freedom equating the past summers of my life. I was able to survive the academic whirlwind with my close friends who took up summer lessons too. Usually, after classes, we would play truth or dare games that are challenging, fun and worthwhile. Little though it may be, having to see your crush in the corridor can help in the process too. Well in my case- Waah! I do have the tendency to be off-tangent sometimes. Hahaha… So before I start blabbing something quite in the opposite side of the fence, I guess I'll have to put this one to a close:<br />
<br />
Even though I wasn’t able to have the summer vacation I ultimately anticipated, I get to know so many things about myself. I grew with me a new wisdom not only offered within the vicinity of our classrooms. I learned something from the experience. I don’t take it bitterly now. I do admit I may have brought that failure upon myself. Come to think of it, I can never be sure if I’d call it “failure”. I’d say it’s a stepping stone, a wake-up call that I believe God has given to me. He has His reasons that only in time I would be able to understand. In retrospect, maybe the most heartbreaking thing that has happened in this unusual summer (really) is when my presidential bet didn’t win the elections. But as I have said, that is another story.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 052810</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-35260940224959482532010-05-12T12:20:00.002+08:002020-04-21T09:28:08.378+08:00Four Things<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rain.</span> I never thought there would come a day that I would not mind being drenched by it. As I walked on the slippery steps at the pavement, I brought myself instinctively home- managing to survive with at least five cars almost running over me. Tonight, I'm in my own world; a world where red lights, fast vehicles and big puddles of water do not exist. The dreaded pickpockets are not even on my head where they usually do. This cold rainy night, I never expected to see you again.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Heartbroken.</span> You looked at me and I was reminded of how you broke my heart when you ended your promise. You smiled at me as if nothing happened, and I wasn't able to understand why I still love you after going through the last goodbye. <span style="font-style: italic;">Why can't I understand how my heart is still aching after those years you've left me for good?</span> I asked myself this as I cried the bitterest tears.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Wish.</span> If I had one, I would have wanted not to love someone like you. As my heart is broken, my head is in tatters not knowing why I loved you... still love you. If I could only stop my heart from choosing you, I would have walked away without the painful lump on my throat. Is it really love that can't be explained? or is it just the stubborn idea of still setting my hopes up?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Dispute.</span> My heart and my mind is contradicting with each other. If I could forget you, I would have already done it. But the screaming inside of me still continue to make my body shiver. My silent tears continue flowing, blending-in with the raindrops on my cheek as I look up the dark sky...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 051210<br />
<br />
Author’s Note: “The Loser” (see previous post) from another POV.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-64913860297435039942010-05-10T00:42:00.010+08:002020-04-21T11:37:51.391+08:00The LoserI could never forget the day you stood under the rain. I saw you staring up the sky and almost never blinking. I grabbed your hand but you pushed me aside as easily as if I were a child. I looked at your rain-washed face but still knew you were crying. I wanted to comfort you, as my mind thought "I told you so," but thought better than even hugging you. So I opened my umbrella and sheltered you from the big droplets of water. My brain chided "<span style="font-style: italic;">I hate her! I hate her!</span>"<br />
<br />
She gave you her final words and tainted them with lies. She promised to love you when she accepted your heart. It was all a sham. She left you confused and weak and falling down the sewers. She tricked you with the silly word "forever" and sweet-coated her "I love you's".<br />
<br />
For a certain, I feel like an assassin ready to hunt her down. I want to rage like a lion just to get even with the girl who hurt you. But when I look at your eyes still full of love for her, I <span style="font-style: italic;">almost </span>restrain myself- even control my anger.<br />
<br />
Almost. Because there's still a part of me that wants to give you a serious blow in the head or even a punch on the stomach! Maybe you would be able to know how you have been acting lately- stupid, perhaps even a loser. She was not worth your tears, she was not even worth your time. A girl like her is someone to be avoided "forever". There! I feel for the word in a way she had never gave importance to it.<br />
<br />
When you fake your smile, I still feel your pain because it seems as if I'm the only person who knows the agony you are bearing. You have no idea how much I want to hug you every time someone mentions her name. You don't really have a clue how much I wish I could take away the hurt caused by her. And during those many nights, I cried for you, hoping that you have not left to her the pieces of your broken heart. This girl (I) would have wanted to mend it for you...<br />
<br />
Still, you are staring at the distance, on the farthest reaches of your world. A world where I doubt I even exist. You are with her, dwelling in your memories of the past, wishing on stars, singing happy tunes... while I'm here, giving you the kind of love I think you deserve.<br />
<br />
Who is really the loser? Her, For breaking your heart as she broke her promise? You, For clinging on to a nonexistent string of hope? Or me, For fixing your broken heart that, in the first place, is still in her possession?<br />
<br />
In the game of parity, I will never win against her. You will never learn to love me genuinely. You are stuck in the past, gazing at someone far greater than I am. I am here. You are there. And when you glance at me, I never fail to see how those fragments of your heart will never be mine.<br />
<br />
Now there's no question about it. <span style="font-style: italic;">I am the loser</span>... and it's a matter of time I accept it and get over you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 051010<br />
<br />
Author's Note: Just another fictional prose.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-48496998141145301732009-06-29T02:02:00.000+08:002020-04-21T15:33:02.039+08:00Nobody ElseI was used to you and me,<br />
Walking side by side.<br />
Talking ‘bout our hopes and dreams,<br />
Staring at the skies.<br />
<br />
Like stars, your eyes are shining bright<br />
Emerald green, such a pretty sight<br />
You seem to be walking on the clouds<br />
“Why?” I want to ask aloud.<br />
<br />
But the question inside just bubbled up<br />
And then just brewed like a decease.<br />
I want to know, “Are you in love?”<br />
But my mouth just couldn’t speak.<br />
<br />
I can’t tell "I like you more."<br />
‘Cause to you, I’m just a friend<br />
My emotions will burst into flames!<br />
Hey! Why are you calling me sweet names?<br />
<br />
Here I am, out of control<br />
Of my pent up feelings for you.<br />
And my words just stumbled out about<br />
“I need someone I can’t live without.”<br />
<br />
With those words I want to hit<br />
My own self as you laughed a fit.<br />
I blushed, embarrassed at that slip,<br />
So shocked at your surprising grip.<br />
<br />
You ran your fingers through my hair.<br />
My heart thudded, I gulped some air.<br />
I looked at your face all aglow<br />
With confession that you already know.<br />
<br />
You held my hand, said with a voice<br />
That you’ve never ever put to use<br />
“So you’re looking for somebody else<br />
<div>
To love you? Well, let’s start anew.”<br />
<br />
As I stood there, speechless, you continued:<br />
“I hope that you could see<br />
That the person you love that loves you<br />
Is nobody else but me.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-82991887274474281432009-06-22T22:59:00.004+08:002020-04-21T18:39:18.033+08:00It's Not About ThatMy memories flash to the times when you were always annoyed about me, talking about the slightest change I had done to my once thick hair. The times when you called me stupid and childish.<span style="color: #ccffff; font-weight: bold;"></span><br />
<br />
Last summer, I had my hair cut short. It was shoulder length that it was so difficult in putting it into a tight bun during military formations in my school. You never noticed my short hair because you were too busy to see me that day. One week later, our first meeting after a month, I asked you if you had seen something different about my hair.<br />
<br />
You said you didn’t.<br />
<br />
I was disappointed.<br />
<br />
But despite that, I didn’t tell you that I was angry with you because of the stupid “you didn’t even see my new hair cut” thing. I thought that was the part of me that was too immature enough to freak out if you wouldn’t notice the change in my hairstyle, anyway.<br />
<br />
After that meeting, after that day when you said you didn’t notice anything about my hair, I didn’t know that many days (even weeks) would pass- without you to see me.<br />
<br />
I had my hair grow back to its original length. Just when I conditioned and told my self that I didn’t have any boyfriend at all, you called me and asked me if I was free on that certain day in mid June. We saw each other again, and after long walks in the park while having an ice cream treat, I asked you if you had noticed that my hair was much longer than the last time.<br />
<br />
You just shrugged your shoulders off and told me I was acting foolish again. I was acting like a child while telling you for the hundredth time about my stupid hair.<br />
<br />
The martyr side of me never mind nor cared about what you think about my hair, but the “child-like” (as you have said) side suddenly became irritated and I told you that it’s plainly not about that; it’s not about my “stupid” hair at all. Then, I walked away from you; wiping away all my tears as I turned my back from you.<br />
<br />
Now, three months later, you are always staying with me. Is it because I was suddenly rushed to the hospital with my constant nosebleed and these violet bruises I have on my body? Is it because I have lost all my hair with my constant chemotherapy? Why are you treating me like this? Is it because I have lost the sleek and shiny, black hair that I used to have, having ugly regions in my head that has been hairless?<br />
<br />
After you called me stupid and childish.<br />
<br />
When in fact you were the one stupid enough to not understand what I mean. You didn’t realize that that was my way of telling you that you don’t even get in touch with me, that you don’t even realize subtle changes about me.<br />
<div>
<br />
Obvious changes like the growth of my hair.<br />
<br />
Because you were never with me, anyway.<br />
<br />
And now your eyes fill with tears to see me like this? Oh! How I wished we could just turn back time and you would send me those balloons and chocolates with a grin on your face. Not with looks of… pity.<br />
<br />
<br />
Please don’t do that… Now you could always notice changes about me because you are now staying with me beside my hospital bed. Now you could see the fast shedding of my hair from my head. At least you’ll see the change, at least you’re here with me, but I don’t know if I’m going to stay with you any longer…<br />
<br />
….because I’m in so much pain.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 062209</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
AN: Fictional imaginings of a teenage girl after watching a movie with a protagonist battling cancer. :(</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-7743382851480734382009-06-15T21:50:00.003+08:002020-04-21T15:38:04.790+08:00StarTonight, I see clusters of stars,<br />
And I ignore those past scars<br />
That brought pain into my heart<br />
Like it's been hit with a dart.<br />
<br />
I seek for that special star.<br />
Finding it from afar,<br />
I marvel at it's rarity,<br />
Awestruck at it's familiarity.<br />
<br />
My mind steers clear<br />
To let me dream of my cavalier.<br />
I stare at that twinkling light<br />
"Is he coming tonight?"<br />
<br />
I wish and hope.<br />
As if feeling myself mope,<br />
I wait for the star to fall,<br />
Beg it with a silent call.<br />
<br />
One wish: that's all.<br />
"Please, little star, just fall."<br />
I can't wait forever.<br />
I have only now, however.<br />
<br />
I just want my perfect match<br />
My dream, I want to catch,<br />
But I know it is impossible.<br />
For my star is still unreachable.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 061509Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-28136389501238828732009-06-15T17:40:00.008+08:002020-04-21T09:40:58.078+08:00Reminisce<div style="text-align: center;">
1st Stanza:<br />
<br />
It's 2am<br />
The clock is ticking<br />
And I lie awake thinking<br />
'bout those times you were with me<br />
<br />
<br />
2nd Stanza:<br />
<br />
It's you and me<br />
And our happy memories<br />
Like leaves, they're changing<br />
From green to gold, then fading<br />
<br />
<br />
Refrain:<br />
<br />
I don't want to pull away<br />
To let go of this love gone astray<br />
What could I do to make you come back,<br />
Or make up for the things I lack?<br />
<br />
Because...<br />
<br />
Chorus:<br />
<br />
We used to plan that happy ever after.<br />
Wrapped each other with our laughter,<br />
We wished on stars,<br />
And hoped for every dream to be ours.<br />
And the gazing over the moon<br />
The singing of happy tunes<br />
Do you remember?<br />
<br />
<br />
3rd Stanza:<br />
<br />
It used to be<br />
Until the end you and me<br />
But you walked away<br />
And my world's now gray<br />
<br />
But...<br />
<br />
(Repeat Refrain and Chorus)<br />
<br />
<br />
Bridge:<br />
<br />
The river in your heart just ran dry<br />
And I'll always remember...<br />
<br />
(Repeat Chorus)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
~anamellie, 061509</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-34131563661737293712009-06-03T23:30:00.026+08:002020-04-21T09:39:47.102+08:00BoyWhen I was a child, I often dream of a boy. He's the person who would laugh at my silliness, tease me with his eyes rolling heavenward as I stomp my right foot on the ground during my girly tantrums, cheer me up with anecdotes during my gloomy days, walk me home after school and wrap his arms around my waist as he suggests we run through the hills and head through the meadows- to lie down on the grass and gaze up at the silver stars as we dream of traveling through places we've never been before. We'll hold each other close as we listen to the soft music created by the wind as they rush through the trees' branches; and the melody of hundreds of crickets during summertime.<br />
<br />
On that meadow, on top of that same hill, he'll whisper to me those sweet words declaring his love for me and I'll tell him how much he means to me as well as I wish for that moment not to end.<br />
<br />
On that meadow, we'll both think of building our castle- the house where we would raise our children and shower them with overflowing love we can't just keep between the two of us.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time, I closed my eyes and wished for that moment to come and eventually find myself with this person I'll stay in love forever, and love him with the kind of love I fantasized as a child- the kind of love that made me remember the time I look up with admiration and envy at the woman who raised me... as I dream of becoming like her: an in love, happy, contented, and well-loved princess who is lucky to find her partner. I often wonder when and where I would meet my own prince...<br />
<br />
It is a fantasy... rather, a kind of love I still want right now- neither puppy love nor platonic, not a love that would fade through time... but a love that is true and unconditional...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">A universal love that would make someone's chest burst when not shared with someone whom she feels equates the world.</span><br />
<br />
It's simple right?<br />
<br />
Wrong.<br />
<br />
Because, if love is simple and universal, why is it one of the hardest things to find?<br />
<br />
If love is easily attainable, why is this prince- this boy unwilling to go to the ends of the world with me?<br />
<br />
Because the truth is, I once found him. Or I thought I did. Only that he was nothing like the fantasies I had. He wasn't there to search for falling stars, to talk of dreams, and chase butterflies. He was never there to wipe the tears caused by terribly missing him. Most of the time, he isn't around even to hold my hand... but I loved him still. I loved him despite of his imperfections.<br />
<br />
The real world, I realized, did not focus on wonderful metaphors and allegories. It all contained ironies. Ironic, that my simple dreams were not realized. Ironic, that I could not hold him when I most needed him. Ironic, that despite all he has done, I still found myself loving him, and ironic... that once I thought I found my 'prince', he turned out to be the person who walked out on me- the boy I loved didn't love me back.<br />
<br />
For years, I hoped we would be together again. I was stupid and desperate and hopeful that there would always be a sweet time to wait for him to come back to me. I did that. Days, weeks, months, years... all I did was wait- wait for him to find me while I find a part of myself longing to wake up from this impossible dream and continue living without expecting this boy to return. "No, it's wrong to assume, it's wrong to expect... it's wrong to wait", my brain often chided.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Especially if this boy once made his way to me and decided to walk away in the end.</span><br />
<br />
And my fantasies are all ruined. Boy, you're just a dream. Is... was... and always will be.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
~anamellie, 060309</div>
<span style="color: #ff99ff;"></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-35965792671224515412009-05-30T21:26:00.009+08:002020-04-21T15:39:11.151+08:00Summer<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Farewell, sweet summer;<br />
Memories of your warmness,<br />
I will always remember...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 053009</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-24195630786101403402009-05-20T20:08:00.004+08:002020-04-21T15:40:01.641+08:00My GentlemanShall I forget his raven colored hair, or his full red lips,<br />
Or the warmth I felt on my fingertips as his hands held mine?<br />
How can I not remember his honey brown eyes-<br />
Which sent shivers through me,<br />
As he fixed them on my unbelieving stare?<br />
<br />
He swept me off my feet.<br />
My gentleman, so sweet, so honest.<br />
He gave me his heart, with love- the purest.<br />
A fascinating man, with wit, intelligence, wisdom-<br />
My <span style="font-style: italic;">Prince Charming</span> in his humble little kingdom...<br />
<br />
He's a heavenly being, with a smile so lovely.<br />
He can breathe life into words, a lover of poetry.<br />
He made me laugh- made my gloomy day seem bright.<br />
And I'd never feel lonely in a cold cruel night.<br />
<br />
An almost impeccable man- faithful, responsible even,<br />
A little mysterious, intriguing, handsome, and obedient.<br />
What have I done to deserve someone so fine?<br />
Everything about him is a gift so divine...<br />
<br />
And then I wake up to find this gentleman a dream.<br />
What pity it is for you to say and believe<br />
That this gentleman is my unreachable fantasy,<br />
But I have a feeling he is real and somewhere near.<br />
<br />
Have you ever seen my dream boy- the perfect man for me?<br />
He's the man I wish to be with- forever I believe.<br />
He has black hair, brown eyes... (see everything above)<br />
Please, If you do, kindly lead him back to me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 052009Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-33174723604099740532009-05-04T20:38:00.000+08:002020-04-21T09:44:25.718+08:00Ten CandlesThe sound of my cellphone ringing wakes me up.<br />
"Hello," I say, wiping the sleep from my eyes.<br />
No one replies. I just hear the background of the screaming of the children which annoys me so much.<br />
I end the call. I shiver... as I realize what's happening.<br />
The cellphone rings as I place it on the bedside table...<br />
<i>and rings...</i><br />
I do not pick it up.<br />
It stops ringing. I sigh. Relief washes over me.<br />
I stand up and go towards the shower.<br />
My cellphone beeps.<br />
<i>Twice!</i><br />
Two messages.<br />
I slowly approach the table and check.<br />
<i>This is Mom... Happy birthday, my daughter, </i>it says.<br />
<i>Mom! It isn't my birthday today! </i>I want to shout.<br />
I read the other message:<br />
<i>Please... forgive me, I love you. </i>It came from the same number.<br />
I couldn't ignore it, I have to tell her she's got the wrong number.<br />
I stare into space.<br />
<i>What do I do?</i><br />
I reply, <i>Thanks ma! And I forgive you! I love you too...</i><br />
I'm so happy, I did not hurt her. Again.<br />
I shower and change, I run downstairs and breathe.<br />
<i>Here goes... </i>I inhale a lungful of air.<br />
The children plays around the kitchen, chasing after each other.<br />
My mother smiles at me, her hands outstretched as she holds the cake...<br />
I want to cry.<br />
<i>Ten candles. </i>The usual.<br />
She sings <i>Happy Birthday </i>with her beautiful voice.<br />
Just like yesterday.<br />
And tomorrow.<br />
I blow the candles, wishes there are eleven, or twelve, or... eighteen- my real age...<br />
And my tears starts flowing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 050409<br />
<br />
<b>AN:</b><i> First of all, I want to say that this is entirely FICTIONAL. This is one of the stories wherein I have no idea what happens as I start. The storyline just pops into my head as I write the words... and the idea about '50 first dates' struck me. But this is originally inspired by the anonymous text message I received which greeted me a 'happy birthday’ (Even though it isn’t my birthday) I concentrated from there and end up with this.</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-78271905830053227452009-04-09T20:25:00.006+08:002020-04-22T11:51:56.046+08:00HeartSilence-<br />
So deafening<br />
that I could only hear my own heart.<br />
<br />
<div>
Thud. thud. thud.<br />
A steady beat<br />
heard as blood flowed through my veins.<br />
<br />
<div>
"Are you inside my heart?"<br />
No answer, no whisper, nothing.<br />
Just the sound of the place I want him to be.</div>
<div>
<br />
My heart-</div>
<div>
which pumped the blood-<br />
which traced the soles<br />
of my naked feet.<br />
<br />
Grimy-<br />
For I stepped on the cold, damp earth<br />
as it guarded the roots and trees<br />
of the deep dark forest.<br />
<br />
I ran-<br />
Waiting to see the specks of light-<br />
my hope, my chance<br />
in a canopy of black.<br />
<br />
I cried-<br />
Cried the hardest.<br />
Tears flowed down my tiny stream of tragedy<br />
'cause I'm lost in my own misery.<br />
<br />
Someone please find me.<br />
I'm screaming in agony<br />
for the place I want him to be.<br />
But there was no reply...<br />
<br />
He's never coming back.<br />
And all I heard was<br />
the last few beats of my heart<br />
and then-<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~anamellie, 040909</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-31489169489003458622009-01-27T20:33:00.001+08:002020-04-21T09:47:06.855+08:00Three Roses and a KissMy boyfriend left me two years ago without explanation as to why he broke up with me. We were together for three years and nowadays, three years is a really, really long time to be in a relationship. If you ask me if losing him was painful, I honestly say that it was. But I’m not about crying barrels of tears because of mourning about that loss; anyway, it would be a complete waste of time if I did. I don’t completely hate Valentine’s Day but I don’t expect myself to like it either.<br />
Tonight, the Eve of Valentines, I felt more alone than ever. Well, at least there’s someone to confide with me and to spend the night even if to me it seemed Halloween- my younger sister.<br />
She was pacing at the living room where the two of us usually bonded. I was lucky that I had Sharina for the last seventeen years of my existence. I was twenty-one, older than her by four years. It was completely relieving to know that she really cared.<br />
Sharina looked uneasy as she stared at the clock which showed exactly seven.<br />
The doorbell rang and she begged me to open the door as she hurriedly sat on the sofa and pretended to open a magazine.<br />
I smiled at Sharina and answered the door. I did not expect a small boy which looked a little older than nine. He had brown hair, and freckly face, and he looked neat.<br />
He was wearing a polo shirt, a suspender and matching black slacks. On his other hand was a bowler hat he put on his chest as he greeted me.<br />
“Are you Miss Sabina? Someone wants to give this to you,” he said with a cute voice and a sweet smile.<br />
“Who, Why-" I tried to ask him as I accepted the flower, but he just shook his head and ran away as quickly as he can, ruining the beautiful charade.<br />
I glanced at Sharina. She raised both her shoulders. She was just as puzzled as I am.<br />
The stem of the flower had an attached note which said, “Sorry.” I thought to myself that the person who gave it must have been crazy for he asked to be forgiven, yet he didn’t tell me who he was. But I had a feeling that the person assumed that I knew him.<br />
Anyhow, I stayed at the door, admiring the rose when another boy (with the same “uniform” as the first one) came, holding another rose. A white one. As soon as the rose reached my grip, he ran as fast as he can.<br />
The stem held another message.<br />
“Forgive me”.<br />
The two annoying words displayed in my mind as if I was seeing it with blinking twinkle lights. The flowers must have come from the same person.<br />
I shut (more like slammed) the door. I sat on the living room sofa, and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. There was another door bell and I ignored it. Sharina, sitting just opposite me, managed to walk and get the door. When she came back, she held a note. She handed it to me as she giggled.<br />
“No Valentine… huh!” she teased. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the note from her.<br />
“What’s this?” Someone must have been playing a prank on me, knowing that I was lonely and without a date tomorrow for Valentines. That was it.<br />
I opened the envelope which held my name.<br />
The note contained two lines:<br />
<i>Two for each year I’ve been away…</i><br />
<i>One for the day, we’ll meet again.</i><br />
I stared at the note. Now, I felt my suspicions were correct. After leaving me without an explanation, he was going to reconcile with me and our relationship would be okay as if nothing happened.<br />
<i>The day we’ll meet again</i>. What does he mean?<br />
I placed the two roses on a vase I positioned carefully on a table inside the room. (I couldn’t refuse the lovely flowers.) I was still thinking why he gave them, and I was hyperventilating in the living room, not knowing if I’ll cry or not.<br />
I often let my mind rule over my heart. My heart says I want him back, and let’s just say, my mind wouldn’t want to. Oftentimes, I feel like I’m following a script called <i>what I should feel when this happens</i> and the director was my mind.<br />
The door bell rang for the third time. Again, I did not answer it, but my sister hurried to open it anyway.<br />
She barked at the person outside, “What do you want?”<br />
I turned to look at the person. It was Jeremy, my sister’s best-friend-turned-worst-enemy just because he tried to tell his real feelings towards her, and by the looks of it, hasn’t given up on her yet.<br />
“Sharina, I-“<br />
“I told you, Jeremy. I don’t want to be more than what we are. If you don’t want that, then get lost.”<br />
And she slammed the door and took the seat opposite me.<br />
“Strike three,” she whispered and a grin was forming on her face.<br />
“You know what? I think you should give him a chance,” I told her, sympathizing with the boy I knew so much by the number of hours he has been with my sister.<br />
“Impossible!” she exclaimed, as she smiled at me.<br />
“What?”<br />
“That my only sister would think the same.”<br />
“What?” I said again, completely at a loss.<br />
She just ignored me.<br />
The door bell rang for the fourth -and I hoped the last- time tonight. My sister whirled toward the door and I now understood what she meant.<br />
Of course, she was just giving Jeremy some test. She loves him too and she wants to prove how serious he was by rejecting him… like tonight… and by how many times he would try to win her again. But I just hoped Jeremy wouldn’t give up yet. It might just hurt my sister.<br />
I looked at Sharina and her face said that I was right.<br />
She cheerfully opened the door but her expression changed when she realized it was not Jeremy.<br />
Not Jeremy but…<br />
“Taylor,” I gasped.<br />
“Taylor! Come in! Come in!” my sister shrieked. I never saw her look that excited for days. Not even with the <i>I hate you Jeremy </i>pretenses.<br />
Taylor took a step and was “in” when I shouted, “Stay where you are!”<br />
The sound of my voice made him back away.<br />
My sister was shocked. She pulled my right hand which was useless because I felt my two feet dragging me towards the door anyway.<br />
When I was officially “out”, Sharina closed the door and locked me outside with the man whom I’m not so sure what my heart feels for.<br />
But I’m quite sure with the mind thing. It kept telling me that I should hate Taylor because he hurt me when he left me two years ago, without explanation, and without warning.<br />
I don’t even know if he still treated me as his girlfriend while he was away. For all we know, he may have hundreds of girls while I was left here thinking about him. Though, I don’t love him anymore. To me, he is an ex-boyfriend. A past I don’t want to relive. My mind says so.<br />
“One for the day we meet again,” Taylor quoted, removing me from my trance as he handed me a large, long-stemmed, red, Californian rose.<br />
He smiled his signature smile and his dimples showed on his right cheek. I stared at the floor mat just so he couldn’t see my face redden. I have a feeling it was as red as it was warm.<br />
He held my chin with his hand and looked at me with his smoky green eyes placed on a perfectly chiseled face which took my breath away…<br />
<i>Stop!</i><br />
I’m not supposed to tell that.<br />
“So it was really you, wasn’t it? What made you come back?” I casually asked him, with a streak of sarcasm in my voice.<br />
“Ouch,” he said as he put his balled fist on his chest. He was teasing and it wasn’t funny to me.<br />
“Or better yet, why did you leave?” I wanted this question to be answered first.<br />
“What kind of a lunatic man-“<br />
“Oh, I don’t know. Men like you, perhaps?” I interrupted.<br />
“Yes, I admit I was crazy, by leaving you. But please, let me explain,” he said with pleading eyes.<br />
I remained quiet.<br />
“You know I have amnesia that I couldn’t remember who I was or what I did before I met you. But that night- the night I left, everything came back to me-“<br />
“So that’s why, you seemed different that night. You weren’t my Taylor,” I interrupted again.<br />
“No, I didn’t forget you. I didn’t forget me. But some other memory tampered with my memories of you. I felt confused. I didn’t know if you really existed. I thought you were just a dream. But something told me that you’re more than that. But I didn’t want to hurt you when the time comes I wouldn’t recognize you anymore. It’s coming, Sabina, my condition could get worse. I left without explaining. I was selfish. I’m sorry.<br />
“I know I belong here, with you. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for leaving like that, but I kept battling with myself because part of me still believed that you should live a normal life. I want you to forget me because I don’t know how stable this mind would be. Dream or not, someday, soon, this mind may not recognize you any longer, though my heart really battled to never forget you.” I felt the pain in his voice as it trailed away.<br />
“You want me to forget you? How would forgetting you make me live a normal life?” I felt a lump on my throat.<br />
“Can’t you understand? I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to let me remember time and again that I should love you. I want you to love and be loved in return, normally. I love you, Sabina, this” –he clutched at his heart- “wouldn’t forget that, but I don’t know until when my mind would recognize you. I came here selfishly Sabina because I want to see you, even if it’s the last time I would. Forgive me. Forgive me for this.”<br />
And he crushed his lips against mine. I wanted to pull away from him but I couldn’t. Instead, I just kissed him back as I felt his soft lips I missed for a very long time.<br />
It felt like forever before our lips parted.<br />
I looked at Taylor and cried. “I need you forever, even if it would end today. I forgive you, Taylor. I love you!” I embraced him tightly as tears continued to well down my cheeks.<br />
A realization came over me. I let my mind rule over my heart, a principle I’ve quite developed. Yet here he is in front of me, trying to fight his mind with his heart. - A heart that says that there’s no one else but me. Now I know, that my heart also screamed for him.<br />
“I didn’t know some romantics still existed today,” I smiled at him as I admired the rose. It was the third rose tonight.<br />
We were about to kiss again when Jeremy appeared.<br />
“Oops… Sorry,” he apologized, seeing what his wrong timing had caused.<br />
“Don’t be. Sharina’s inside the house,” I winked at him as I pressed the door bell button, knowing that four hearts would never be the same tonight, at the eve of Valentine’s Day.<br />
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<span style="text-align: right;">~anamellie, 012709</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-21133572061294957072008-11-06T00:17:00.000+08:002020-04-21T09:51:16.318+08:00Facing the Deep Blue<div style="text-align: justify;">
It’s a nervous thought. It’s really scary, looking beyond tomorrow and imagining what would happen to us in the future. I guess we really can’t help it, especially because all of us have that certain fear of the unknown. Here we are in college, preparing ourselves for the big “it” (A great turning point in our lives). Our performance in college would become a boundless basis of what we will be in our premium years.<br />
<br />
When I ponder about it, or sometimes when my mind is at it's idlest state, I often end up with the most unusual but accurate analogy of sea turtles. I don’t know, but the more I think about it, the more I am fascinated by the way I can relate our very lives (as students) to that of the sea turtles’.<br />
<br />
By the time sea turtles are lay by their mothers, deeply buried and hidden beneath the sand, they wait for the time that they are hatched. Mother 'pawikans' (as the natives in Occidental Mindoro call them) dig 4 meter deep holes in the sand- not just one but three holes and lay their eggs on one hole only. Why? As you can infer, digging two extra holes are meant to confuse predators. Neat huh? But sometimes, they can never really be safe from certain predators that eat them while they are still inside their shells… and at that stage; they die, without even having the idea of how great the deep blue is.<br />
<br />
Lucky sea turtles make it to another stage, and they experience the breath of life. Excited, they all crawl and make their way to the greatest adventure of all, to face the deep blue. Rushing through the shore, all one hundred of them are ready to become "Ambassadors of the Sea". They want to explore the ocean so bad that they didn’t notice the arrival of sharp-toothed sharks. They happily enjoy the warm water and then… the next second, they are already being attacked by those cruel predators. A bountiful number of sea turtles would narrow down to ten. It is now such a small number compared to how many they were from the very start.<br />
<br />
Akin to the pawikans' story, our parents carefully prepared us for our individual breakthroughs. Just like the sea turtles, we have been concealed and protected against those certain “predators” in our lives; predators that would cause us to drop school or put an end to our existence. But nowadays, sometimes most of us look for our predators instead of the other way around. For example, when we feel like having that certain urge to stay in bed the whole day instead of preparing for school, or going to the mall with our peers even though we still have huge piles of paperwork or projects on our desks; we place ourselves as very delicious meals for these predators that would hinder our success. And I think the difference between us and sea turtles is that they can’t do anything about their ill fate, while we have control about everything that would happen to us.<br />
<br />
Our story similarities doesn’t end there. What about the ten sea turtles that survived? They would compete against each other as they travel. Some would circle the world, while some would die trying. Some would even stay on safe zones. One way or another they would acquire scars that would teach them that being ambassadors of the sea is not really a piece of cake. Or in their case- a piece of... well, seaweed. They have to work hard to achieve their goals. To flourish our dreams, we will become like these injured sea turtles as we continue our battles after graduation. With God's help, we would be able to pull aside our adversaries as we pray for his guidance and strength in facing the vast ocean. With that, plus our commitment, we would be able to win!<br />
<br />
Facing the deep blue, the surviving sea turtles would have a look of contentment on their faces, and a grin which would say, “I did it!”<br />
<br />
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<br />
~anamellie, 110608<br />
<br />
Author’s Note: I learned the "sea turtle facts" from the tour guide we had when we went to Apo Reef at Sablayan, Occidental Mindoro. So sue him if the facts are wrong. Haha... Kidding!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-15730162619379516902008-10-25T18:51:00.000+08:002020-04-21T18:41:31.120+08:00A Shadow of His PastEven though I keep missing him this much, even though I keep thinking about him a lot, I know our hearts would never be an inch closer to each other, because I know that even though he's seeing me, and he really makes me feel that I'm important to him, I could tell that somewhere in the distance, beyond the warmness of his glance, he's still seeing someone far greater than I am.<br /><br />I know, I cannot be compared with this person, I'll just end up the loser in the game of parity. It's like putting square pegs for round holes. It's stupid and unimaginable to compare myself with someone beyond my reach, that even if I stood at the top of the highest mountain, I still would not be able to touch the clouds.<br /><br />It's really agonizing to think about him, to know that even if I try to forget him through my deep sleep, I would still be haunted by our memories... or at least, my memories, with him.<br /><br />I often cry, and with the tears came another set of familiar pain and loneliness, covering me with doubt and hopelessness. Everything just died, what I thought our love was, his sweet forever's, everything!<br /><br />In the end, I realized that he never loved me anyway, that all he sees when he looks at me is just the memory of the girl he once loved, that he's not ready to let go.<br /><br />I was just a substitute for someone he had lost in the past, someone he greatly wants to hold and keep. I was just that blueprint, existing only for that sole purpose in his life. I was just that shadow of his past, someone who would patch his broken heart but never to mend it, for the pieces had been left with the girl he still loves, and it will be forever hers...<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> ~anamellie, 102508Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-7227621348513709732008-10-17T18:53:00.000+08:002020-04-21T18:42:46.542+08:00The Feeling I want You to Feel<div style="text-align: center;">
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Fifteen minutes to twelve… I toss here and there trying to close my eyes and sleep, but whenever I do, a picture of you and me together goes inside my head. I manage a deep sigh because I couldn’t get you out of my ,mind.<br /><br />Memories… are they the reason why I have this stinging feeling inside my throat? Why am I holding back this possible downpour of tears that would wet my pillow? I’m not supposed to feel this. It is completely unfair for me to cry knowing that hundreds of miles away, you have no care in the world about how I am feeling right now. You may be celebrating that at last, at long last, you are free from me, the annoying and nagging thing you’ve grown to hate…<br /><br />Because I was (at one time) loved by you, I could tell. But what happened after that, I don’t know. It’s as if I’ve woken from my most wonderful dream and seeing reality for the first time- a bittersweet reality.<br /><br />To escape from it, I often dwell on dreams, on what-ifs, on wishes, on memories…<br /><br />But to tell you the truth, there’s more to it than just memories.<br /><br />I just want you to feel how painful it is to look back at the time our growing love declined. Though, looking back on good times was much agonizing than that.<br /><br /> I hope that you’ve figured it out by this time. But in case you wouldn’t be able to… love. This is the feeling I want you to feel towards me as it is also the feeling I’m feeling for you right now. Yes, it never changed.<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /> ~anamellie, 101708Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-17450809096980358372008-10-07T18:55:00.000+08:002020-04-21T18:44:09.611+08:00Twin soul<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
The end of summer brought tears to my eyes.<br /><br />That’s because I knew that it would be completely different without him. I knew from the start that it’s really impossible to be with him forever because we have our separate lives to live. We have different paths to take. Imagining him with me has been too impossible to form even with the dreamiest state of my mind.<br /><br />It was as if I were standing on the shore and longing to see another island in the distance, but seeing only the horizon stretching into infinity. It was like being stranded on a deserted island waiting for nothing, and knowing that it would be like that until I die from the heat and lost of water to drink.<br /><br />I lost hope that day, as I stared at him while controlling my tears from falling. I knew that that was a real goodbye. The goodbye I was most afraid to witness, the goodbye that said, “If we’ll meet, we’ll meet. If we’re not going to, then we’ll just have to forget each other as if nothing happened”. That was it. Goodbye to commitments. There would be no hurts and no tears…<br /><br />But I knew we were wrong.<br /><br />I knew that the real reason why I’m crying right now is because of that promise of no commitments. How I wish, we committed ourselves and just went with the flow, like the water falling from the mountain, with no choice but to go down… But we had our own choices, and choices made us part our ways and never to see each others face, nor smile, nor tears…<br /><br />I guess he was not my twin soul after all. I was most certain from the start that he was. But after that painful experiences of late-night crying, of pondering about things about us, of quarrels, of being friends again, of awkwardness, taught me all about the things and the status we are in right now… Not friends, nor lovers… Not even enemies. We are but strangers, barely two random faces in a crowd, waiting for our twin souls that would eventually be ours forever. We are in the same state of searching, but he’s not mine, and I’m not his.<br /><br />Never.<br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /> ~anamellie, 100708Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-48808041080512971402007-11-15T19:23:00.000+08:002020-04-21T15:45:11.571+08:00Please Let Me Be Me<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Once upon a time, I was born,<br />Born freely, and once strong.<br />You used to be my inspiration when I was small,<br />Even though you don’t seem to bother at all.<br /><br />Everything you did, so much pleased me,<br />As if I was seeing a person so saintly.<br />I imitated you and I dream of being you.<br />When that time happens? I don’t have a clue.<br /><br />You told me to follow everything you stated,<br />Even though my young mind knew, I would be different.<br />I was challenged by the things you’ve done,<br />And greeted my own dreams gone.<br /><br />But all you did was put me down,<br />And my eyes are my only weapon against your painful words.<br />I cried lots of tears, when I started to realize<br />I couldn’t be like you.<br /><br />I followed a road with a marked path<br />To be on the same end you have right now.<br />Then, it was too late to discover that<br />I couldn’t be like you.<br /><br />In my struggles to follow you,<br />I didn’t know how it was to be true.<br />I became seriously misled,<br />And the wide path is now narrow instead.<br /><br />Please, let me be me.<br />Let me choose the path I wish to take.<br />Don’t give me markers on the winding path of life.<br />Make me discover the consequences it has.<br /><br />You already had your turn in this journey,<br />Now it must end.<br />Please, don’t control my own.<br />Let me start anew…<br /><br />And make me learn from my mistakes.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />~anamellie, 111507Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-22114327321545021632007-09-24T19:20:00.002+08:002020-04-22T09:04:34.532+08:00The Melancholic PriceIt was years since<span style="color: rgb(128 , 128 , 128);"></span><br />
<div>
I last laid eyes on her.<br />
<div>
<div>
Now the dreams visit me</div>
<div>
In this dark and ruthless chamber.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Memories of her love</div>
<div>
whirl in my mind.<br />
Dreams of when she was mine, </div>
<div>
but to her I was unkind.</div>
<div>
<br />
<div>
<div>
Time died and flew me by</div>
<div>
and the tears fill my eyes-</div>
<div>
Remembering</div>
<div>
I was the one who said goodbye.</div>
<div>
<br />
But now she’s gone</div>
<div>
and it’s only now,<br />
I realize that</div>
<div>
I love her still, somehow.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've acted so dumb.</div>
<div>
I've been so foolish.</div>
<div>
I am so stupid.</div>
<div>
I'm even boorish.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I hope one day she'll forgive me, she'll stay.</div>
<div>
But for now,</div>
<div>
this is the melancholic price</div>
<div>
I have to pay.</div>
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~anamellie, 092407</div>
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AN (042120): Rewritten and looks nothing like the original version.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5565676367247744970.post-25604260957467957592006-11-28T19:25:00.001+08:002020-04-21T17:05:50.329+08:00Where Are You?<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Why can't we have that perfect love story we deserve? <br />We've been through so much...sacrificed a lot, suffered more than enough,<br />Can't we be happy for once? <br />And get what is rightfully ours? <br />Or are we just not allowed to? <br />Why do we have to suffer a lot of pain, cry lots of bitter tears? <br />Is it meant to teach us, to let us know that life's not so fair? <br />We’re tired of waiting... <br />Coz we've spent forever waiting and hoping.... <br />Hoping for that day, for our happy fairytale ending... <br />For the joys and laughter that they say true love would bring <br />But where is it now? <br />Has it gone? Or was it ever there to begin with? <br />Is it going to be late and short-lived like everything else that's good in this life? <br />Where are you? <br />That guy God made for me! <br />Show yourself.... <br />I’m tired of waiting...and I won’t be here forever...and I know you won’t be too. <br />Do you really exist? <br />Would I still wait for that day you would hold me in your arms? <br />Would I still long for you, the guy who's meant to say to me "I love you?" <br />And mean it with all his heart and soul? <br />The guy who would tell me the kind of “I love you” that tells me... “You are my life”, <br />“You make my heart beat” <br />And “I will take care of you...” <br />The kind of “I love you” that will mean, "I’m not perfect but please, accept me...I am yours...” <br />Where are you? The guy, they said was destined for me? <br />Or are they just lying...? <br />Do I still have to wait for you? <br />To wait for the time fate would give you to me? <br />Or is fate playing tricks on us...? <br />Tell me, give me a sign that you are there <br />And I’ll survive every trick fate plays, every pain waiting could bring <br />Show yourself... Oh! I beg you to...Please... <br />Before I lose grip and let go... <br />Don’t let me give up <br />And don’t give up on me <br />Coz I love you <br />You make my heart beat <br />Make me survive this hell without you <br />I’m not perfect...but please, I’m yours and waiting <br />Claim me...accept me <br />My heart...my love... <br />All of me...<div>
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<br />~anamellie and heavenceres~</div>
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AN(042120): This is an exchange of fun, freestyle attempt in making a poem by sharing our thoughts. Just two teenage girls sending lines back and forth in Yahoo messenger chat. Good times.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0