Friday, September 21, 2012
Australia... See you soon!
No photos. No nothing ... Just webinars on maps marketing. I love you my dear soulmate. But like Hancock., we are weak when together. Ask will smith.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
just like this morning Part2
My love to me is not the same as love to him. My idea of it does not necessarily mean the same in every person's head anyway but I do look back at those text messages he sent me through the years and I definitely think that the first sentence I wrote here has started to become a little too confusing. If my Love did not mean the same to him, I wouldn't be reading these words from him over and over again and still understand it in the same manner as I did understand them when I first got them into my phone.
Yes I have over 800 text messages from him in my phone. I have copied them safe into my diary and I have also been reading them over and over again. How exhausting this might seem but this is all that I am left to do especially when nothing makes me happier than the thought of him still being there in my life. I don't look farther into the future of what I am currently in now because the future of the love I once had with him is now past and does hurt over and over again no matter how much I try to forget.
I am reading that message when he wanted a massage from me as he was tired from working all day long in the field. He was dehydrated and he was suffering from migraines. He always did, my poor love. He always had migraines and I remember how his spine was a bit misaligned so that he must have been feeling more tired than anyone who would have a straighter one.
" you dont love me na :(( huhuhu" -- Oh but I do my love. In, fact I am still loving you now even when you have long forgotten how you even joked this way to me. I do remember how your laughter sounded and how you would even say these lines over the phone to me. I remember how it was to dial your number in Cambodia and I do still get tempted to dial it so I'd hear again that usual recording whenever you were out of reach. But that's lame am sure. I won't do that anymore. I won't even try to dial the first digits as I would feel that same pain I have suffered way back. Nope, it wasn't nice at all. I could not even believe how everyday unfolded with events that were drastically the opposite of what I have expected since I made a mistake of putting my trust on someone else.
Lord, why is it that this particular love I have is something that will always prove wrong in the eyes of anybody including him? I have realized how my yearnings for him have become so improper in anybody's opinion in this world. How much harder can it be to know very well that my prayers are taking me nowhere? I dream of a man I cannot have because when he starts to want me in return, everyone around him will stop understanding him. How much more difficult can it be when everything I pray for no matter how good it sounds for any of us, still is being refuted by someone else "more rightful" in a form of a prayer as well?
I can't help but wonder and cry now that I have come to this text message where he says: Someday my love, my soulmate. We shall be together po, you'll see. Sleep now my love, dream of me po and I shall come to you tonight. Sarangheyo.
... I must stop writing now. It is raining outside...but that cannot conceal the tears I am crying now.
Yes I have over 800 text messages from him in my phone. I have copied them safe into my diary and I have also been reading them over and over again. How exhausting this might seem but this is all that I am left to do especially when nothing makes me happier than the thought of him still being there in my life. I don't look farther into the future of what I am currently in now because the future of the love I once had with him is now past and does hurt over and over again no matter how much I try to forget.
I am reading that message when he wanted a massage from me as he was tired from working all day long in the field. He was dehydrated and he was suffering from migraines. He always did, my poor love. He always had migraines and I remember how his spine was a bit misaligned so that he must have been feeling more tired than anyone who would have a straighter one.
" you dont love me na :(( huhuhu" -- Oh but I do my love. In, fact I am still loving you now even when you have long forgotten how you even joked this way to me. I do remember how your laughter sounded and how you would even say these lines over the phone to me. I remember how it was to dial your number in Cambodia and I do still get tempted to dial it so I'd hear again that usual recording whenever you were out of reach. But that's lame am sure. I won't do that anymore. I won't even try to dial the first digits as I would feel that same pain I have suffered way back. Nope, it wasn't nice at all. I could not even believe how everyday unfolded with events that were drastically the opposite of what I have expected since I made a mistake of putting my trust on someone else.
Lord, why is it that this particular love I have is something that will always prove wrong in the eyes of anybody including him? I have realized how my yearnings for him have become so improper in anybody's opinion in this world. How much harder can it be to know very well that my prayers are taking me nowhere? I dream of a man I cannot have because when he starts to want me in return, everyone around him will stop understanding him. How much more difficult can it be when everything I pray for no matter how good it sounds for any of us, still is being refuted by someone else "more rightful" in a form of a prayer as well?
I can't help but wonder and cry now that I have come to this text message where he says: Someday my love, my soulmate. We shall be together po, you'll see. Sleep now my love, dream of me po and I shall come to you tonight. Sarangheyo.
... I must stop writing now. It is raining outside...but that cannot conceal the tears I am crying now.
just like this morning
I can't forget that little saying I've read about Love - that the sweetest and the most romantic one is that which was never fulfilled. How true can that be? What makes it so if ever?
My heart is again reaching for those moments that are sealed in the canvass of the past - those moments when I am able to etch every single detail of your lashes into it. Those times when I could count them one by one and run my fingers on each and every strand of them. Those times when I have the time to even notice that they beautifully lined your eyes and contoured the most expressive sight of me inside them. Those moments when I could feel the warmth of your breath on my forehead as you snored the darkness away. Those sweet times when I could secretly smile while I could smell the remnants of Hugo in your skin...those wonderful times when I could freely and flirtatiously rub my toes up and down your legs.
And ooh those unforgettable times when I'd wake up to you passionately kissing every bit of me and making love to me uncontrollably through the night.
I see myself staring at an imaginary canvass in front of me and I get lost in time while listening to the most melancholic piano in my ears. I get lost somewhere within my canvass while I try to search for every remnant of the past...those physical bits I could hold on to to remind me that everything that I have painted are not just off my pure imagination but reality.
You are real and we were real as it all happened.
You are the subject of a very beautiful painting that only gains value as it ages. Yes you have seemingly drifted away into the realms of the forgotten yesterdays...but I love thee just as I have loved you this morning.
Everyday... I make love to you.
From here I have realized that LOVE is not at all what I thought it would be. Nothing confines it to one particular understanding. My love to me is not the same as love to him. My idea of it does not necessar
My heart is again reaching for those moments that are sealed in the canvass of the past - those moments when I am able to etch every single detail of your lashes into it. Those times when I could count them one by one and run my fingers on each and every strand of them. Those times when I have the time to even notice that they beautifully lined your eyes and contoured the most expressive sight of me inside them. Those moments when I could feel the warmth of your breath on my forehead as you snored the darkness away. Those sweet times when I could secretly smile while I could smell the remnants of Hugo in your skin...those wonderful times when I could freely and flirtatiously rub my toes up and down your legs.
And ooh those unforgettable times when I'd wake up to you passionately kissing every bit of me and making love to me uncontrollably through the night.
I see myself staring at an imaginary canvass in front of me and I get lost in time while listening to the most melancholic piano in my ears. I get lost somewhere within my canvass while I try to search for every remnant of the past...those physical bits I could hold on to to remind me that everything that I have painted are not just off my pure imagination but reality.
You are real and we were real as it all happened.
You are the subject of a very beautiful painting that only gains value as it ages. Yes you have seemingly drifted away into the realms of the forgotten yesterdays...but I love thee just as I have loved you this morning.
Everyday... I make love to you.
From here I have realized that LOVE is not at all what I thought it would be. Nothing confines it to one particular understanding. My love to me is not the same as love to him. My idea of it does not necessar
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