{ Oborozukiyo~inori | [Mika Nakashima] }
I wonder what mum has against this song. It's beautiful. It fully captures the sorrow and regret of one...utterly brilliant. The violinist is godly. If you ever can, download it, or I'll be glad to send you a crappy .wma of it. I'll be online.
Now; I'd like to get to more serious business.
Love, in my opinion, has a similarity to Jenga blocks. However easy one thinks it is to build up and flourish, to perfect so all the pieces are sitting one on top of the other, stationary, it is always a million times easier to draw one's hand, and with a sudden movement, strike the whole once-standing structure down back into its scattered, initial pieces. This very process is usually repeated throughout our lives; two lovers pick up the pieces and start developing a very intimate relationship between themselves. Maybe somehow someone has superglue in his pocket, or she's got a roll of spellotape hidden in the security pockets of her handbag...well, you never know. Then the pieces cannot be simply knocked away with a swat of one's hand - they have to be forced apart, and that's when everything works out, and everyone lives happily ever after.
Unfortunately, we live in a world in which Pandora's Box has already exposed its contents to. So not everyone has that adhesive object by their side, and yet again the cut-up wood comes crashing down to the floor again. Sometimes the structure built has been so forcefully kicked away, that the pieces fall and dent themselves on the cold, concrete floor; for wood is a soft substance, when compared to that hard, grey mixture.
What is grey often interpreted as? Blandness. No life. A matt color, never varying in hue, it's not black nor is it white.
Anyway. Because the pieces are dented, it may be harder to build a steady structure again. Like I said, it's just like love; once you're hurt, you may never recover. Those wounds that your ex inflicted upon you, whether with a hint of black joy and malice, or sobbing and unwilling, may never heal. Often when these very wounds are deep, they leave a scar, and with every failed relationship that follows afterwards, those wounds are sliced open again, and salt sprinkled generously across them.
What a labyrinthine thing, love is. Of such deathly beauty, it can bring you happiness, or it can bring you the death of your inner self, so you become nothing but a cold, outer shell. You choose how you want to define it. After all, who's in charge of your relationships? You. Duh.
After that long-winded hopefully philosophical lecture on the subject of love, I'd just like to say one thing to one, or even two people, you know who on Earth you are; even if it lasted for the shortest time ever, remember - yes, relationships now are just for fun, and in that short period you two had each other to lean onto, at least you enjoyed it. Smile again; I know you can do it. :)
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Wasn't that a long blog entry. Oh I'm sorry. You've still got a bit more to read. Enjoy my little brief short story I wrote recently, to practice for that creative piece coming up in English class. Listen to "walking proud" by Ayumi Hamasaki as you listen to this...it seems to just interlace in the most wonderful way ever, just as I'd like this story to be expressed. A song of such unbelievable beauty. Or maybe even "Kimi ni aitakute" by Gackt. You pick.
Or not.
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She took a sharp intake of breath as she let him take a step towards him, and carry her in his arms. It was an oddly solacing sensation to be in his warm embrace; in every waking moment of her paradoxical existence she had played this over and over again in her head. And now that it was happening right before her shimmering eyes, she was at a loss for words.
A denied love, wasn't it? What the...
He put his hand on the pale curve of her porcelain cheek. The mild touch sent a tingle of sensation that ran down her spine, and warmth rippled through her minute form like waves would across a vast ocean. She had never experienced what love truly was, and this was utterly foreign to her; she felt insecure. She started to resist, she wanted to tear herself from his grasp and hide in the darkest corner she could find.
No; he let go of her, pleading. His cries shook her to the very bottom of her desolate heart - to put it simply, she merely found she couldn't just turn her back and pretend he wasn't there. No one was ever that heartless. Plus...her eyes had lingered on him once too many times; her eyes had traced his complexion too often. Her own heart had betrayed her true intentions.
When he saw her walk back, his mouth curled up half-heartedly, in a smile that seemed to imply everything at once. It signified happiness of her return to his side, but it also seemed preoccupied with some thought or another, and there was a hint of melancholy to it. How eager she felt to rid him of his inner sadness, and pull him out of that pit of misery!
She'd pull him out, and in turn, he'd fill her everyday with color and the sounds of laughter and joy. She clasped her milky arms around his slender neck; never to fall in the bottomless angst she felt repeatedly. Someone was all willing to be there for her, to help her up whenever she tripped over her own two leather-clad feet, to wipe the tears rolling down her cheeks whenever she was feeling blue.
His waiting hands brushed the ebony locks away from her face. He breathed out slowly, both savoring the brief spell that had bewitched their very souls. His palm gently heating her cheek yet again, he tilted his head very slightly, and with a childlike timidness his face edged closer to hers.
The kiss he gave her was nothing like she'd dreamed it to be. Everything he had wanted to give to her from his very heart, all the things he dearly wanted to express to her...everything he said through this one single gesture of intimacy. His lips were gentle and yielding, wanting nothing more than just her simple love in return. She had nothing to lose; she returned his gesture, cherishing him and everything in that time. A love so strong. She never once fantasized that it genuinely occurred in the very same world she lived in.
How ignorant she had been. She chuckled quietly to herself, as he broke it off.
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Your thoughts, please. | 
