Dear stars,

Tonight when I saw you smile, knowing I wont return it, I ached with melancholy &I felt like screaming I needed you. But when we started walking &when our breaths synchronized with our feet, I commanded myself to not conform. Th real reason was that I cheated my way. I created you to become th man i want, whom you're not. Every man I could resist, except one. One whom I havent seen in ages, god knows where he is. One whom I desperately want to see &admire, but who'll always be closer to my soul from a distant. My first taste of love was undefeatable &th uprising couldn't be th same again. But oh how I wish!

Th theme here is disillusionment, I foresee alot of things impossible but its a habit I breathe each day. Still alot of things have afford me to be happy. That would be a share of pure joy from others, &th tiny piece of them where they saved to contain a little piece of me. Yet that confrontation of abandonment &vulnerability is music to my ears. For a start, I long to be otherwise.

Love (or lack of it),

Naf.

I'm lazy nowadays, even lazy to write, &that is th most outrageous sin; tingling to lock myself into a county locker &find back my courage with words. I have very little strength to bulldoze away fears from my sight, but I'm sure, th real me is crouching back there somewhere, clasping a wet blanket but steering herself into light soon. We lose these things occasionally, determined to succumb to failure, &offer ourselves a jumble of stupid logic in order to raise th white flag &rest th worries away by selling our dreams. Cant believe we did those so many times before. We should build a memorial for our dreams that died along th way as we intune our brains with school huh. So sometimes we need devotees to slap th keys back to our faces, but we didnt know that in solitude is where our mind gains strength &learns to lean upon itself. Sometimes we know we just need to be alone, but we come up with excuses that we need ppl to comfort us just because we're afraid to be lonely. Its selfish, but we work that way. &Sometimes nature isn't so comforting.

My dad told me that however I want th latter things to be charmed, I cannot hide &delude myself away from what I do not want, because they are more real than th things in my head. He's a difficult ass, th very man who have th capability to alter my immaculate innocence into an unnecessary repulsion. I inherited many visions from him though; all through our stubbornness, or what I would like call it an unyielding personality. We hate th pins &needles of society, but from an extent, we're one too. He taught me to speak the lingo of crap &I hate him for that cause dammit, I'm good at it! But out of th virgin soil of scarcity of a baby's mind, his lingo of crap developed my perspective. I can't hate him cause he made me value both noise &sound.

I'm one.

I sleep cocooned in milky light, floating amongst the lost hopes &fantasies of children that have somehow slipped through the atmosphere to haunt me here. When I sleep, I dream of people dying, sometimes I dream I'm alice, sometimes susie. On very rare occasions, I dream of him; his face a watercolor blur, but his pulse overtook every of my breath, his fingertips shaping every contour of my body. I dream of all that he is &everything i can never hold on to. Then I see girls with loose plaits, torn clothes &wounded skin, running away from me, their blue eyes tempered like broken glass. I thought I was a vampire- my veins loosening into shimmers of light, but as i look down, I only notice a a pale shade air of invisibility; no feet, no clothes. My, I cried so hard! I cry jewel-bright tears above the ocean &stared at my reflection. I didn't know whether I still exist or not. Send me your well-wishes &help tell the sun to not vanish me when he comes out to work. I'll try to live.

You might think 18 might draw me closer to find myself, with no witness but the moon, but I came to the world less valiant each day, assembled by desperate bones seeking to meet kind souls through eyes of an inexhaustible hero. My wishful life is losing itself in the cracks &crannies of oblivions from the new century, weakened by temporary happiness and deceiving truths.

But I was savaged by indecent perspectives that lacked of depth &forgot that being transformed is to know that there are no truths &allowing that to be the only truth. The power of depression is stronger than the technicality of triumphs which usually lasts about a minute for me, &my somber had lead me crying infront of a stranger who promises to take my resistance down &make things right for me. As she begged me to layout my puzzled confessions for her to decipher, there wasn't a moment I had trusted her, but as I obeyed with vague intensity, I started cursing out loud in my head.

I was brought up to believe love was the only infallible remedy, but I felt no precise excitement and promise. People claimed that I am my own pain, that I knew nuts about capitalizing circumstances &look beyond sadness, but who do you tell when you feel empty? Cause everyone claimed they are so &i have no returned empathy.

When you dont want to be sad anymore, thats when you try so hard to transform. It was quite difficult in contrast, to swallow all your past down &find people whom you trust to fascinate you, then proceed to trample all over your heart. But i'm not here standing in precaution or to seek refuge in somebody's arms blahblah; i'm a state of danger &all I need is to feel like i'm living. To be run down by smth horrible &survive. To love &be hurt. To be rich &then be poor again. I need a proportionate difference where I could be thrilled. I need help.

A few rounds of this &I cant trust he's not troubled.

I appreciate silence on some occasions, but this is absurd.

If I were to allow myself, I would miss you.

You should have seen the war that found its way of revealing its minimal overdose of inevitable suicide in front of my unfortunate destiny. My eyes were burning, watching people I know offer themselves to a sacrifice that had them believe that they are doing it for the country, with an intend to invoke peace. I didnt remember whether I was a journalist or a lover, but either way, I was scouring the land for news, though the stained confusion of much gusto, &pain that I came to a point to want to surrender myself, just like those brave guys; chop my hair, wrap my chest- infuse a little bit of mulan feel. My say is, i think we're unlucky enough to receive everything in pure luxury, only second hand emotions from other people who had suffered. I mean c'mon, still not admitting we're a developed country for sake to save ourselves from helping the less-developed ones? How to encourage the citizens to not be selfish themselves? Hence, I still don't know who are the children in black pajamas, really, it might be linked, might not be.

I didnt know what really strike me when I was asleep, but I was pretty sure I was Susie running around in the meadows, capturing indefinite pictures, instantaneously, with innocent-like intensity. And then I remembered being wrapped up in a chaste &suspicion. Running all the time, alone. But nothing likely near the murder.

All I wish I was blessed to be gifted with a permanent fixture of Saoirse distinct features &wit.

Its even more enchanting that her name meant freedom in Irish.

Anw, I haven't read the book yet, so am gonna soon before I catch the movie!