time: 4:30pm
music: none.
mood: restless.
the she who stands alone in the corner,
only an audience for the world's tragedies as they happen.
i am sophocles penning his thoughts.
i am aristotle n' darwin combined.
i stand alone with my words frozen in my mouth.
a pen in my hand posed over blankness.
today i woke up wanting n' needing to make today the day to do something.
yesterday i woke up feeling the same way too.
but tomorrow? yes. tomorrow is THE-DAY.
dear friend,
life never lets us choose.
life never gives us options.
n' love? hah!. u know whats ironical?
we have the power to choose who we love. i swear! we can choose.
tt bullshit? about cant help but to fall in love? no. dont exist.
what about tt "i love u the very second i saw u" BULL.
i apologise for my anti philosophies, but life is such.
sometimes a love story have gaping holes which IF ONLY were cemented, would be a perfect love story.
IF ONLY it was this instead of that, then, it'll be perfect n' we can live happily ever after.
dear friend, but remember,
take life as it happens. take whatever happens as blessings.
no love story can be perfect.
romeo n juliet ended up dead. remember?
random.
what is greater than time?
no other, for the only available, logical alliance between infinity and transience is time alone.
nothing surpasses time.
not love nor death nor life nor any other thing that has a beginning.
time has no past, present or future.
time needs no distinction nor titles,
it is one long line which we break up into simple comprehensible abbreviations
we call these breakups, seconds, days, months, eons.
doesnt it scare you?
that we are always living our past and future in the present?
after the Taj was completed, each of the builders, all twenty-two thousand men, had his thumbs cut off so that the structure could never be built again. a legend. yet, i never thought that love's ultimate portrayal would be as powerful as a tombstone built entirely of marble. i'd say, this is a tango of two worlds: the greatest expression of divinity and obsession questioning the sort of lover mumtaz was.. the extent of the love,
if beauty and death equals love, i am forced to concede that all lovers never die
only because death is omnipresent whilst beauty is subjectivce
{{hence allowing it to be the only constant}}
a cross between this world and the next, I see beauty and death in this gravemarker - a transcendent equation that parallels only the other..
the taj mahal. the epitome of the eternal-love stands today, to mock at us contemporaries n' the games we play with love. about a whole year ago, i lost my faith in fervent love so now im in desperate need for romeo's resurrection. a male friend advised me recently for us girls to "not fall in love easily"...
i think tt might be the best advise i've heard in a long while..
p/s: my brother's a dodo-head. he spent the whole afternoon complaining about being too lazy/tired/unmotivated to work. but well, he went anyways. and now, an hr since he left the hse, he calls to say! he HAS NO WORK. uh!.. there's tt thing called the telephone to check?!.. duh-uh! =/
