So close, but so far.
I’m sure that if God wanted us to be together, he will make us meet again. (: Or not.
Since fate is what brought us together in the first place.
I miss you.
She crashed and burned from the sky. The phoenix did.
I use to fall in love with guys with blue, and green eyes.
Love is sweet,
It colors life.
Anyone can love.
Love is a lie,
It never lasts.
Love is material,
It slips through your fingers like sand.
Why do people act
like love is the final number?
Searchers of love will never find it
But maybe if you take care
You will find its shadows.
Love is entertainment
It is precious
Love is fun
Love is a trap that few escape from.
Originally written on 12/24/2012:
The dream. Today I had a dream that can only be described as a psychic experience. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to know what death was like and wished that I, of all people, would find or be given the answer to this most elusive question.
As I was sleeping I heard the sound of what seemed like a bomb dropping. As I waited what would come next I wondered about the fate of the people helplessly entangled in this catastrophe. Then a curious effect started to take place. I could feel the heat of the explosion, which wasn’t painful, but felt more like an invisible force exerting a pressure over me. A bright, blinding, yellowish-white light poured into the room. I saw myself becoming nothing, and as I tried to process the mystery I began to wake up.
I read this for the first time a couple weeks after I had that dream (on 1/20/2013). “If we could see ahead into the future we would finally see a killer blow delivered by the growing pulsating brain to the magnet, and the palintropos dialectic would end. Only the brain, incorporating every living human (as well as the physically dead) would exist. Even the landscape would disappear. Just a sheet of white light would extend everywhere. It would be as if the brain had reached critical mass and detonated. The magnet is well aware of the direction of this process; it has reason to regard the brain as “dangerous”, “foreign” (“Fremd”), etc,; i.e., as an invader The brain is its pursuer, and it has caught up with it.”
–Exegesis, Philip K. Dick
I met my true love on a bus ride one day. It was a normal day like any other. The yellow rays of the hot sun shined uncomfortably through the bus windows as the bus roared through the dreary, gray toned streets. The windows shook and rattled violently as to not let the poor, tired, sleep-deprived looking student that always seems to be on a bus, from getting even a little rest. The bus came to an abrupt stop and let out a loud shriek in protest like it did for the thousandth time and probably would for another thousand or more. That’s when I saw him. He had just gotten on the bus and was walking through the aisle when our eyes met. Something was different this time.
To be cont’d….
Should love only follow money? No, love is more beautiful when it is separate from money.