the writer
a writer, eh? not really. but why? because i'm a hopeless romantic. taunt me. laugh like the hyena. do the hokey-pokey. pounce on me. tell me how hopeless i am... real hopeless. go ahead. that's fine with me...
or share some pity and feel my pain. isn't that him, the dying martyr? oh, the poor chap. look at his frail limbs and fragile soul. but no, no. you'd never say that.
because i'm just a freakin' writer who no one cares about.. do tell me if i'm wrong, huh. not that i care.

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speak up...



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7.02.2005

those days...

take me as you are.. push me on the road..
the silence, i need this time to be with you...

but where's the silence, when i desperately need it the most?

i'm sorry if it doesn't seem like this... but.. i need to be next to you. or this might be clearer; so to make things real short....

i miss you. badly.

i know you don't feel it that way. but reality is, every moment i've had with you, every single laughter and word, every smile... all is vividly pictured in my mind. like a filmstrip which would never stop reeling...

and when things shift back to reality, a blank thought fills the empty void inside me. because nothing's happened.

so i'm sorry. my fault anyway.

maybe, those memories, i just should keep to myself... i can't really tell if you care. not that you need me...

but i do.

the silent spoke up on 19:36

_______

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DEAR READER,

This blog site is no more used by the writer.

Please proceed to his NEW SITE if you're still interested at what's happening to him.

However, if you persist...

click on this icon.

THANKS. If you want to dig deeper into his past... Click here.



gee... thanks guys...
(gee, thanks guys...)