That Night.

I am very confused. I was afraid to look at you. I wanted to take a look at you. But I know then you would be looking at me too. I didnt want you to. I was afraid that it could stir my emotions. And it did. I feel the need to look at you. The need to be with you. The need to know pleasures. The need of burning desires. The need for sweet love. The need to know how and why. The need to understand why. The need to give it a second chance. The need to know how it would make things better. The need to turn it around.

Please. The mistakes that you did. The cold treatment that you gave me. Was it worth another try?

I feel so hurt.

Even when I went to sleep yesterday I thought of you. Eventually I did deam of you. We were just crusing around town. With the clear dark sky filled with stars and the slow changing clouds in the sky. We were happy. Singing and listening to songs from your collection. The stars were blinking and shinning so brightly in the sky. I remembered how you were just driving around aimlessly. We would occasionally kiss under the skylight while cruising along the lonely highway. I noticed how the clouds were changing its shapes. There were so many patterns! and I exclaimed in delight and you were happy to see me smile.

I woke up after that.

Lying on my bed while I daydreamed about you. Then I remembered how you used to tickle my belly button with your wet tongue. Slowly and in circular motion to tickle my senses. I felt it moving around and I feel sensual about it. I reacted with pleasures. Your hands holding my hips and my waist gave me an even more pleasure and joy. I moaned in delight.

Please let me have a reason to close that chapter once and for all.

[musicology]
The Vines - Homesick

Ride Me Babeh!

I got a date. He's so close to home. Just a bridge away. He rides. He rides good. Biker boy. Big big biceps. Cunning tattoos. Matured mind. Big yet generous heart. Direct talk. Best of all, lonely.

My kill! Hahahahahahahaha.

And guess what?

I'm gonna ride!

Wicked. ;)

[musicology]
Missy Elliott - Can't Stop

Vitamin B Energy.

I should think that talking less helps me to get better.

To know less would make me feel more comfortable.

And that you should be reading less to feel less agitated.

Muacks. I miss you though I hate you.

This blog is alive.

Deepresionshites.

some old shites i dug out.

Some catastrophic situations invite clarity, explode in split moments: You smash your hand through a windowpane and then there is blood and shattered glass stained with red all over the place; you fall out a window and break some bones and scrape some skin. Stitches and casts and bandages and antiseptic solve and salve the wounds. But depression is not a sudden disaster. It is more like cancer: At first its tumorous mass is not even noticeable to the careful eye, and then one day - wham! - there is a huge, deadly seven-pound lump lodged in your brain or your stomach or your shoulder blade, and this thing that your own body has produced is actually trying to kill you.

Depression is a lot like that: Slowly, over the years, the data will accumulate in your heart and mind, a computer program for total negativity will build into your system, making life feel more and more unbearable. But you won't even notice it coming on, thinking that it is somehow normal, something about getting older, about turning eight or turning twelve or turning fifteen, and then one day you realize that your entire life is just awful, not worth living, a horror and a black blot on the white terrain of human existence. One morning you wake up afraid that you are going to live.