Wings might have been more happy

Eyes may have been more desolate

Love is unstopabble

It indeed is everywhere

Yet I can’t find it anywhere

Dreams are oblique

Surrounding our heavenly spirits

I will take you down

Down to where humans truly exist

Warm, warm, swarm me into your arms

Cold, cold, cold as ice slicing through me

I can understand their pleas

Can you hear them call for you?

Here’s Where The Story Ends

These are the following bands I’ve missed in the past centuries

1.) The Sundays

Hit Songs: Here’s where the story ends; Wild Horses; Summertime; Gone

2.) The Cardigans

The last time I heard about these folks was about their vocalist, Nina Persson who’s now a jetsetter

Another Idea

There are things that we can be totally afraid of, like for me it would be people cutting their nails in front of me which is understandable due to a minor childhood trauma. But there are several kinds of fear that we can’t immediately put to rest.

Like the fear of seeing this face.

Who would want to be looked like that in the face?

This is me, by the way. Wearing a green shirt from highschool, a photograph I took of myself a couple of weeks ago. My hair is totally inspired by the bed. I look a bit okay. But I couldn’t remember if I was okay that day.

I’m wearing the same shirt today, except that today the shirt is covered with grime and sweat. I just came from a badminton game with a couple of friends from work. They’re these people by the way.

I’ve informed these people that I’ve posted this picture in this site for the sake of their privacy (or whatever compulsary thing that should be).  Anyway, I just had the chance to think it over and ponder on things like, well, fear. Death comes close by two points but then again, whenever I’m asked to do like a sample draft of some journalistic “thing”, death seems to be a favorite topic. Hence, I’m giving fear a chance.

I’ve realized that the fear of swimming into a pool of sweaty people comes in second after the nail cutting/bitting fear. I mean, who would want to go diving into a pool of sweaty people (no matter how naked they seem to be)? I’m not sure about you but I’d rather eat a bucket of chicken smudged into several sauces.

Well, what are you afraid of anyway? (this blog? :P)