Skip to main content

Bake me a cake.

Search This Blog

Thunderstorm Thoughts

Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

There are no monsters in my closet, no monsters under my bed.
Because all of the monsters, they live in my head.

life ungodly hours

Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts

2:00 AM

It is nearly two in the morning and I am awake, so naturally I deemed it best to write. Tonight has been a "feels-filled" night for the most part, full of reminders of heartbreak, of sadness, of the past. It's a different kind of sadness, this. It's not a loneliness, not even a melancholia. It is merely a shadow of a feeling I used to have, a memory of a misery that had long been kept at bay. It's a sort of nostalgia for what was and a painful longing for what wasn't. At this moment, at two in the morning, my brain is on overdrive and my heart is struggling to keep up. My brain is recalling moments that my heart feels nothing for anymore. My heart is reaching for emotions my brain refuses to remember. It is that age-old struggle that renders my body fatigued as result. It is two in the morning and my soul needs rest.

To The Boy Who Lived (published July 31, 2010)

You and your wonderful, magical world have been as much a part of my life as breathing. I cannot imagine growing up without knowing any of those spells, or how many Knuts there are to make a Sickle. I could never imagine not wishing I could play REAL Quidditch or how much I wanted to learn Transfiguration, or ride a Hippogriff. My life would not be as awesome had I never known Dumbledore’s Army, or thought about what I would see in the Mirror of Erised. My existence would have been utterly boring had I not known what a Dark Mark in the sky meant, or be in possession of the knowledge of every hidden passageway at Hogwarts. Like all the others, I wished--nay, I prayed for a letter when I was 11 years old. And I am still in unconscious denial: my owl simply got lost in the Manila smog. My heart went out for you when you found out how your parents died, when you thought their best friend had betrayed them, when you lost those others you loved, when you visited Godric’s Hol...

Thor and Maring: A Stormy Love Story

She was crying again. She didn't know why; she expected this to happen. Still, it did not lessen the blow. Thor had walked out on her, as she knew he would. It was inevitable. The Norse god of thunder was not only known for his temper, but also for his fickle mind. Maring knew she was temporary, in more ways than one. She was the new storm, a tropical one at that. She was exotic and spontaneous, and that caught Thor's fancy immediately. She was only supposed to stay awhile, but the inescapable fight had come. Thor raged and roared and lit up the sky above the mortal ground, possibly frightening the land dwellers into hiding in their homes. And Maring? Maring cried. She cried as she had never done before. She weeped and bawled and watched helplessly as he left, flying into the night. It was a silly fight, of course. Maring was too unpredictable, he said, too unstable. And worse of all, Maring was clingy. Thor called her clingy. Possessive, he told her, didn't know how to...

Powered by Blogger