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The Worlds Inside People

What appeals pretty for me is almost non-physical.

I distant myself from people. I never go where the crowd goes. Not because I’m shy or insecure about the possibility of being out of place, but because what I long for is usually never found in the crowd.

I don’t like small talk. It usually drains me, making me charge myself back through introversion. I long for a real conversation. A deep one. An intellectual sort of talk. For me, socializing involves just one person and me, a cup of coffee, make that extra large if not refillable, a good ambiance, and long hours of just sitting there around the table.

What appeals pretty for me is almost non-physical. I’m more interested on what lies beneath the surface. I’m more on how a person speaks his mind, and on how he expresses his hidden self out.

I am fascinated by human behaviour. I am fascinated by the massive submerged part of human iceberg. I am fascinated by the strange patterns that differentiate every single person.

Every single person has an untold short story. Every single person has Moons, rivers and unfinished chapters. Every single person has a past that built his present. Every single person has a little nook filled with dreams and regrets.

I want to know what’s on someone’s subconscious. Someone’s makes and breaks; and, the reason why someone’s doing the shit he’s doing. I want to know someone’s overt and covert behaviour. Those that are known and unknown to the self. I want to know where someone’s mind goes when it wanders; and, which part of the world attracts him once I hand over a globe.

Surfacing through humanity wouldn’t take me any further. Yet, diving through someone’s ocean of hidden worlds takes a lot courage. I guess, I’d rather have a share of the latter than just by simply asking, “Hi! How are you?” Then get nothing at all after he replies, “Good!”

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Posted by on May 2, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

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Priceless Little Things

Introversion guaranteed (INFP)

Priceless little things that I’m pretty much always up for:

The first sip of coffee in the morning.

The ray of morning sunlight drawing through my pushed-off curtain.

A good music to pump my mood up.

A good breakfast whether be day or night.

Sleeping early and waking up late.

Chocolates, nuts and sunnyside-up.

The elastic rubbers that produce a quick pulling sound as soon as they hit each other everytime I push to close the door fridge.

The soft hum of the air conditioner.

That moment when I get to have a sudden burst of inspiration for creativity.

That moment when I start dashing my pen to write all my emotions on paper.

That feeling of being lost in the fantastic world of books; perhaps, being found.

That moment when I can no longer hear the world as the book completely captures me for the climax grows near;

And, when I happen to fall in love with the character in the story.

That moment when someone asks me about a topic that I happen to be so interested about, in which I wouldn’t stop talking for days.

Long and weird intellectual conversations that build a real connection.

That moment when I raise my head up in the clouds, and think about the world.

That time when I get to have a knack of seeing things in ways other can’t.

Being on the road with no destination just for the sake of moving.

That strange feeling of sadness that reminds me that I’m human.

To sit under the Moon with all the time in the world.

That awkward moment when someone catches me talking to the Moon, and wonder why I do so.

A trip to a bookstore.

A ridiculously oversized mug.

A nerdy wardrobe.

Being different while others are all the same.

Silence.

Space.

And lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of SOLITUDE!

 
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Posted by on April 17, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

Redamancy

Redamancy


A writer’s soul could paint Autumn in Summer.

Fall in love with someone who dives into the depths of your mind, and measures how deep your oceans of intelligence are.

Fall in love with someone who gets amazed about your intellectual capacity.

Fall in love with someone whose hand could write all the emotions in the world, and whose mind could shrink the whole universe in.

Fall in love with someone who puts his love into writing as he acts upon it.

Fall in love with someone whose imagination is as wide as the universe, but not a dreamer.

Fall in love with a writer, not an actor.

Fall in love with someone who appreciates the sunrise as much as the stars at night.

Fall in love with someone who loved to be alone just right before he met you.

Fall in love with someone who loves watching you from afar.

Fall in love with someone who could hardly tell you, “You are beautiful.”  Yet, stares at you like you are the most amazing canvass.

Fall in love with someone who never tells you, “I want to know you more.”  Yet, it’s obvious through the rhythm of the words he utters.

Fall in love with someone who keeps his composure yet, whose smiles show how deeply interested he is in you.

Fall in love with someone who calmly approaches you as he let’s you be who you are.

Fall in love with someone who gives you all the space in the world yet, assures you of his presence.

Fall in love with someone who is silent but not timid.

Fall in love with someone who is reserved but not shy.

And, when he speaks, he’s wordy but not cocky.

Fall in love with someone who is bold but not bully.

Fall in love with someone who is confident but not boastful.

Fall in love with someone who holds you because he’s interested in you, but doesn’t take advantage of you.

Fall in love with someone who pushes you to your limit, but doesn’t change you.

Fall in love with someone who fights for you but doesn’t fight with you.

Fall in love with someone who’s strong enough to love a strong woman.

 
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Posted by on March 29, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

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Jouska

Jouska

Jouska

I like cancelled plans and missed trips.

I like the idea that not getting what you want is another stroke of luck.

I like finding something nice while looking for something else.

I like the flipping of the page to start a new chapter.

I like being awestruck in the moment.

I like the paling of the sky promising a new beginning.

I like watching the rain skittering down the window.

And feel the chrysalism I gain out of it.

I like walking on damped sideroads.

I like the astrophe I feel as I walk along.

And the petrichor I smell arousing from the wet grass.

I like bookshops’ vellichor.

And quiet coffee shops’ anemoic atmosphere.

I like this hypothetical conversation that I keep rolling in my mind.

I like being lost in ambedoic trancé as images from a distant past slowly yet, undeniably surface back in my mind.

I like having flight of thoughts.

I like the unsettling awareness of my own heartbeat.

I like to gambol on the staircase.

And to lilt in the kitchen.

I like my unkempt hair with over-worn pajamas.

I like empty boxes and scattered pens.

I like words and writing them.

I like silence.

I like space.

I like simplicity.

I don’t know why but I like not knowing why.

 
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Posted by on March 26, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

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Sehnsucht

Sehnsucht

“The inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what.” — Anonymous

If the Moon was an egg, when will it hatch?

If Andromeda were to hit the Milky Way, will planet Earth be thrown out onto one of its tails so we could comfortably watch the greatest Cosmic Cannibalism in the Universe? Or, will it be sucked up by Andromeda’s massive black hole?

If the Sun were to run out of Hydrogen to produce Helium and bloat up to 30%, will humans be transported to planet Mars, which is now on the process of Terra formation? Or, are we gonna pull a good-size asteroid close enough to oust planet Earth from its orbit and happily wander in the wide Cosmo?

If the Universe is really expanding as caused by the invisible force of dark energy, where is it expanding to? Is there still a space beyond the outer space?

And, if it is indeed expanding, drifting every single galaxy away from each other, one night, when we look up the sky, will it be dark by then because the stars are not there anymore?

If ER=EPR is the missing piece of the puzzle of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, then blackholes are interconnected through wormholes, defying Physics, sewing the whole massive Universe together.

If we were to travel back in time just right after the Big Bang when the whole cosmic creation was just 5 minutes old, how do you think it would look like?

 
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Posted by on March 25, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

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Lumos Solem: A Child’s Game

Lumos Solem: A Child’s Game

Lumos Solem: A Child’s Game

I used to raise a hand towards the tiny openings of an old wooden platform, face my palm straight towards the ray of 7:30 AM sunlight, and watch the back of my hand luminously glow in crimsoned red as I feel the warm wave of heat where morning dust particles arouse in the air.

I used to listen to the most silent form of silence and get amazed by the awkward monotonous buzz that I hear drilling through the inner lobe of my ears.

I used to get amazed by my own heartbeat, and would suddenly remember that I just forgot that I was breathing.  Then it amazed me once again.

I used to step out in the patio right after the rain and enjoy the smell of petrichor arousing in the air.

I used to stare at thin air, and question why I cannot see the air.

I used to watch flowers very closely and imagine Thumbelina tucked up among the buds.

I used to look for tiny little mushrooms that grow on damped woods where orchids used to flourish, look for dwarfs, and pretend that I was Snow White.

I used to wonder how worms hide beneath the soil and still can breathe.

I used to believe that if I hide my face behind a wall, the rest of my body would be invisible.

I used to wish to have superpowers as I used to play pretend that I could move objects and start a fire through mental telepathy.

I used to run as fast as I can towards my bed upon switching the lights off in the fear that demons will run after me.

I used to believe that the scariest task a child was ever obliged to do was to go upstairs alone in the night.  Watching the stairs itself used to freak me out.

I used to believe that the scariest part in my room was underneath my bed where nighttime crawlies awaken after midnight.

I used to imagine that my whole family was being killed and that I was next everytime I hear thumps while I was taking a shower.

At times I used to wake up late and that the hallways and stairs were silent, I used to believe that I was already dead and that I was walking in the ghost realm.  Then I would start looking for my own dead body as I try to remember as much as I can on how I possibly died.

I used to own a Jane doll, a big walking porcelain doll, the prettiest among my dolls yet, which face I used to place down flat on a pillow and cover with used clothes before going to bed for her eyes used to freak me out everytime I get awaken in the middle of night.

I used to play with Donald and Mickey, and never realized that one day, they will become leaders in the US.

 
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Posted by on March 24, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

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Its Loneliest Tick

Its Loneliest Tick

“There is loneliness in this world, so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of the clock.” — Charles Bukowski

It’s the intangible sensation that creeps beneath your skin, surfacing out, thrilling your nerves with unbearable chill.  It’s the undefined emotion that sculls your fear through the waves of your mind.  It’s the unsolicited presentiment that rooms into your thought, clearing all your mind’s furniture of sanity.  It’s that moment when hope abandons you, as fear torments you.

It’s dark.  Night-dark.  Casket-dark.  Darkest dark your vision could ever recognize.  It fuels the forever restless engine, sitting, rusting down the pit of the unmapped space of your heart.  It unlocks your forced-lock fear like vampires disturbed and awakened from their deep sleep down the deepest part of the dungeon by a single drop of fresh blood.  It skulls into your mind picture after picture of fangs, claws and misshapened shadows.  It shrinks your heart into an impossible fold where you cringe yourself in fear and sorrow.  You cower yourself exceedingly small as you keep watching over crawlies underneath your bed.  It feeds from your loneliest memory of the past.

It ticks, and it never stops.

 
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Posted by on March 24, 2017 in The Avenue

 

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