I'm pacing around my room right now, hoping to receive any sign, any word from him. Angry, bitter, sad, upset, joyful, solemn.


Just to know he's okay.

Nuovo Cinema Paradiso

Having posted the Amélie clip up, I've received something lovely in return from a fellow Decathlete and friend.

And I must confess that I find the ending rather charming with a touch of nostalgia provided by the music composed by Ennio Morricone. All of this while I attempt to finish my final paper for my World Literature class. But as I try to concentrate on the concepts of identity, independence, and ever changing gender roles, my thoughts drift back to the moving harmony of piano, violin, clarinet, and flute. With that, mental images form into the montage of old Hollywood romances. So I recall the recurring actions and ask myself this: What is in a kiss?

I will confess that this scene never ceases to make me melt like the damned girl I am.

Coddamn Insecurities

The title explains it all.

I was fine. I just hope I've accumulated enough confidence to realize that he does, in fact, love me for who I am.

... I hope who I am is enough for him. Enough for me.

I've been lacking in titles lately. I don't know why.

Onto my main reason.

There exists this sinking feeling within me that prods at my mind and my heartstrings: we rarely speak as we used to.

I called a friend selfish for certain reasons.


What I don't want to realize is that I am selfish, too.