Truths can

be stumbled upon, on rides to 7/11. Woohoo for Mountain Dew Slurpee cravings.

Sometimes our hearts want something badly enough to cultivate feelings strong enough to take hold of Fate's strings and weave our own Tomorrows. Who is she, anyway? Little more than a personification of wishes and events..though, interesting, nonetheless.

I rode a jeepney for the first time ever, today. Boom snap clap. I relearned how to jumprope, tonight. Boom boom snap shh!
| {7:47 PM}

Where in

the world, are you? Come back..be you, with me; my you, maybe. I need to see you..someone should tell you. I should tell you

..and; don't let it get to your head.

Oh geezus, where are my words..somebody save me.
| {8:39 AM}

The void-filled days

left a longing for words. Impatience with the Rain led to frustration at the many quantities and coincidences fueling Distance, dousing emotion, and rekindling doubt.

On second thought; a rekindling of both emotion and doubt. As Time teased, a name grew in quality and sparks, unraveling between lips that beg to drop..secrets, and a name, at the snap of your fingers onto the color on your cheeks.

My mind raced and fingers fumbled as needless words bound themselves to the curve of my smiles, waiting to remeet yours..words that denounce Fate and defy currents, with outstretched arms and paddles.
| {7:15 PM}

Who agrees

with; girls who look good will catch your eye, girls who can think will torture minds, but girls who can write will capture souls?

To re-capture my own..in all maturity. The babaw blog is good for something, after all.
| {8:56 AM}

Would you

die to keep my secrets? Would you lie to hear me say "I love you, too"?

I think you are unbelievably pompous..or at the very least, the you we seem to be getting to know (despite the distance you perceive), is. You are similar to a Math teacher with a poker face, after arriving ten minutes late to administer a particularly long test, and a group of boys who turn left and left and left around and around a rotonda. I suggest you hold on tight to whatever friends you have left, but please don't assume I'm willing to be one of them, especially not now.

But after all is said and done, December one plans, Pep Squad, great friends, hilarious pictures, Honey Stars, balloons, dancing, and those conversations..put "honey I love you, please.." smiles on my face.

I tied some balloon string around my finger, and let it bob a little closer to Home..the selfish kid in me refused to give it reason to find Home, in the Sky. The Sky is..similar to the Darkness; she escapes with a million balloons, after sunset, as the Darkness takes a night shift. A friend told me that sometimes the balloons set with the sun, til they fall onto trees (and unfortunate people's faces), and Home is alone with the Darkness, again.
| {6:19 AM}

The stories

I weave are growing down..or up, too fast to be savored. I want to write about nothings that mean Worlds..as opposed to making worlds out of Nothing.

What tha madrepakeeng kinda sheet are you trying to pull off, btw?
| {6:46 PM}

I write

like I have something to write about..or for. It's pretty dang funny.

You fill every inch of this sorry skin.
You leave no room for doubt.
To nothing else do I, my soul, commend.
The sunkissed Sky of mine that
plays as courted by the Moons.
Does Night hold you, love?
Or do the stars lay themselves out,
onto nothings,
that I might keep you after sunset?
To escape with my Sky, after sunset.

SCREW 'DAT SHET haha
| {5:55 PM}

How gullible

the high school heart; how fleeting the sane mindset. Too many lies in so short a span of Time.

Hit the road, hard, and go.

And so you fly..and do so without the need for wings to clip. How should One keep a balloon with no string, with enough helium to disregard the Wind? How does One chase a continuously falling star? Or capture an all too immaculate Sky with paper and pen?

The mystery lies in the ways beauty keeps Worlds beyond our reach; those that we admire are too much to be held.

Thank God you were only one of my three happy crushes..and if you think you know who exactly this is about, shutupyousodon't.
| {4:49 PM}

Give me

reason to run away; with my secret for a day. Give me lips to kiss the Sky; to disprove it hangs too high. Wings to love, a heart to give; borne above a life to live. Who are you?

I'm pretty sure I'd like to know.

Whatever it is you're up to, this color on my skin is better than new..is this your doing? I'd like to believe so..

I'm beginning to recall the emotion brought about when One spins in complete accordance with the cosmos. Let's pray I don't ruin the handful I seem to keep safe. These are chances the Sky changes old pearl strings, for. Worlds she explodes into sparks and fireworks, for.

Yours is a smile I could ignite into an encore of New Year's eve.

The Time I lack to strengthen grip and feel..the Time I lack to suppress need.
| {5:27 PM}

A little

courtesy, please..the way people flaunt such inept discretion, just might provoke words I try not to allow these smiles to give way to.

To anyone whose pompous subconscious this may strike; apologies and disclaimers..if I could train these hands to write any vaguer testimony, I would. For now, do note that I group people into entries..claiming an entire rant is very vain, very useless, self frustration.

As for you..I could teach you a thing or two.

I am the secret keeper, the truth seeker, the rose reaper, the butterfly speaker..what then are these wings doing loose, out on my skin? What am I doing, being caught daydreaming and getting away with doing so, so much more than once or twice? Do you know their language? Have you kept contact with the Sky?

Things I need to know..til the alcohol drags us off the dancefloor, keep me spinning.
| {7:50 PM}

You, you,

you are the smile I seek to steal. You are the moments I hope to leave lipstick stains on. You could very well be everything, very soon.

You mince my words. You make me blush. You get me to stare. And, this time, I'm more than ready..to finally give enough of me..to finally, finally give all of me. I'm a little bit more polished, now..I promise I am. I can show you the world; shining, shimmering, splendid. Tell me, *uhm* now when did you last let your heart decide?

You, you, you shine brighter than anyone.

If I could've sang to you, I would've. If you'd let me..y'know, you should've. You should. It's frustrating to have so much more to write..but no such right, as of yet, to fully express.

I want to see you tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the days after that.

Because I like who I am, when I'm with you.

And all this is completely general, and unstructured, and perfectly frucked up..and I promise I could write so many more butterflies into your skin, if you'd let me. Proper butterflies, conversations with the Sky.

I helped salvage a pretty big bit of love, today..enough of it to keep me believing.
| {9:29 PM}

The stupidity

of one to interpret another often results in belittlement, though not out of spite..a lack of comprehension merely leaves very little to be admired. However, the intelligence of another to surpass content brings about rightful critique..a superior understanding views too much, worth nothing, in retrospect.
| {9:17 PM}

You've apparently

misunderstood those minutes I'd spend staring blankly at my keys. They were not spent backspacing and click click clicking away edits and thesaurus-bound words. My fingers lay on my lap, rearranging words and fragments I'd stored, in my head. Memory took and tacked and skimmed through emotion scattered across; it sat and waited til my veins drove floods of nothings onto my fingertips, and burst onto paper and moniter in a flow of consitency, and ambiguity. In a strange filtered sort of raw..the kind that felt, in place of deciphering. The sort that played as it spun itself..and refused to be done over in any way other than technicality.

These are not lies. These truths are polished, yet whole..passing through, but no less for the touch of organization. The conversation I feel most myself with, uninhibited; and, though reviewed, lacking in structure. Read once, twice, thrice over, and held highest when the purest of feeling made very little sense of it all.

What is it to be honest? It is not in the carelessness of being, doing, thought, or words..it is in the expression held in simple lines and times. Who am I to judge? No one of much value..who are you to compare? One of very little value, in all kindness. Convince yourself these are words worth disregarding. Conviction is vital in the belittlement of my nothings.

It's funny how you must've hardly known me, at all.
| {3:24 PM}

I actually

like who I am, when I'm with you. As nursery, and blunt as that is..coming from someone like me, that means a shitload.

I hope I didn't waste any more wishing dust.
| {2:23 PM}

When he

asks you where it is you want to go, do not shrug and say "the riverbanks of dreaming"; for there are rivers that bend and wind across the stars and moons. Insist instead that Liana, the newest of the faerie nymph, wing across the Northern winds on her whispy dragon voice. And request that her sister Aria plant rose secrets across the milky intersection, between the contellations and streams.

And his smirk will suffice for the reasons his sand does not need.
| {6:16 PM}

For the writer's

sake, I'm going to keep spinning colors,
and words, and fragments of Forever, together.
And try as you might, you'll never catch me there.

I'll put together skies you can't see
with wings your shirts weren't made for.

To encompass all you understand,
to further the little you know;
with all you should have found out.

I'll rewrite all those old lines you've picked up
and make worlds of paper and pen.

To dance, and smile, and heal;
til the lights flicker onto the face
of stable rooftops, blankets, and tangled

tangoes?
| {3:58 PM}

Another

good conversation, with an old friend.

0915: where do you wanna go? Ethiopia? Niger?
0927: I wanna get out..of everywhere. Anywhere but here. Nowhere in particular, with someone to make it something.
0915: well, I may not be someone to make it something but I'll keep you company =) Haha
0927: where do you go to forget?
0915: never never land?
0927: seems pretty far off
0915: well where do you feel like going?
0927: a rooftop..on a clear night. Sorry, you get weird conversation when you decide to talk to a friend that begins with an E :-P
0915: then a rooftop it is =) Nah, I kinda missed these convos. Haha
//
0927: slowly waking up, but still in bed haha. Blame it on the weather :-P
0915: blame everything on the weather =P
0927: everything? Not everything :-) Some stuff you blame on Time
0915: most stuff you can blame on change though. Don't you think?
0927: some stuff you can thank Change for, though :-) But, yeah..he can be an ass. He plays tricks, along with Distance
0915: distance. The biggest bitch in my life. Changes in gas prices can either help things or make things worse.
0927: so we turn to blaming the Economy, now? :-) Haha. That's why rooftops are important..Change and Time and Distance don't stay on rooftops..there's only Sky. All you can blame is the Weather :-)

Goodluck in Indo. Rooftop, soon :-)
| {10:04 AM}

What are you

scared of? We'd have nothing to worry about, if you'd let me make days like today into secrets..even strangers must know I have a thing for secrets. Secrets, and so many other things that I've had stolen from my lips. Secrets, and so many other things I could keep you up at night, with.

You do know that you send people off, don't you?

You walk with easier soles, and talk of more. Do I come as a shock, to you? I could keep you up at night for better reasons. For better reason. I could let you in on the secrets the Wind's kept, to herself..and the feeling she's refused to give. That one marked with old lace, and red felt.

I could write Todays across your footprints and walk alongside..or I could erase Tomorrows and leave. I could worry you..whatever you want, kid.
| {8:04 PM}

She glances,

as though things are far and away; off in God knows who knows where. Her hair is the sort of mess that's been pulled at and run through, with half willing fingers that trace her half open lips; and that striking poker face she keeps on, so flawlessly.

But her eyes stay soft, if you look closely enough..or if she does..that's the mystery, of her.

| {8:25 PM}

These words are

meant to be felt, not heard; experienced, not read. They tie themselves, like beads, to your ankles. They fall like silver and stardust; meant to be caught, in place of gasps and breaths. Meant to capture emotion as we talk of the last petals falling to the cold concrete of the room..the emptiness of the fading Moon gracefully excusing herself..the Wind carrying the petals off into the Sky. Meant to exclaim as we talk of Sun bursting clear through raindrops as they fall, and cloth hanging by your windows. The warmth on a side of your skin, the kind that makes your eyes half close and your cheeks glow.

Meant to inspire as we talk of two hands, to create, to renew. Two hands and strings of endless, endless words meant to be felt, not heard; a feeling meant to be experienced, not read. One hand, one that grabs onto another, and falls like silver and stardust. A chance meant to be caught, in place of gasps and breaths; and breathes.

My promises are small but certain; we will capture the last few petals as the Moon shines on, and ride the Wind off into the Sky. We will exclaim as the Sun lights your skin, bursting through raindrops and window cloth. But most certainly; your eyes will half close, and cheeks will glow, as two hands meet, create, renew..all I ask is for the right to pen words much more endearing, for you, but not nearly as you.
| {6:44 AM}

This is stupid, but

I can imagine taking you out to talk, one night..that night, and sitting you down beside me on a curb, and telling you everything. Telling you that, just maybe, I can fly you right out of here. Right out of anywhere, to everywhere. I can imagine hoping that the bit of alcohol I can take in doesn't meddle with my words all too much; and hoping that the bit of tolerance I have can keep me looking at you, and keep you listening to me. I can imagine taking your hand in mine and hoping that the butterflies I send to your skin are enough to fly my promises right back to me. If you could keep my secrets, would you?

I think I might just end up dying to know yours.
| {8:58 PM}

Because you said that

you wanted me to keep the fact that you talk about these things, a secret. And because I couldn't help but need to type this all down..a compromise of codes.

0927: I haven't hidden under my blanket, and told her, in a while..I used to say it cause I liked hearing she'd pull me out. And make me "turn the lights back on", in a way
0916: Aww..that's ok. Don't worry. Someone'll pull you out again :)
0927: Soon, I hope. I'm not too fond of the dark :-{ Haha.
0916: It reminds you of how much you need the light :)
0927: Or makes you wonder if the light needs you, back
0916: Or realize that the darkness does..or maybe you need to stay under the blanket for now
0927: Because the light has an infinite amount of things to shine on..and, more often than not, does so for itself..what does the darkness think of this?
0916: "The light doesn't shine on me, I'm here for those it pushes to hide under the blankets"
0927: I've misunderstood it all along, then :-) It has a very interesting mind :-) I'd like to get to know the darkness
0916: Stay under the blanket :)
0927: :-) Yknow, I didn't think conversation with you would be like this
0916: Like what? Hahah did you think I was shallow? :)
0927: I didn't mean it like that! Haha. It's just that..even people who are deep don't usually fit thoughts of the dark, light, and elves properly into casual sms.
0916: Hahah I was kidding. Yea, I don't usually talk to people about my elves :)
0927: Some would think you were a little bit crazy,. Or a little bit high. But I might just be a little of both, too, so no worries :-)
0916: Hahah, I'm sure :) Keep it a secret?
0927: Dang, so no posting bits of our conversations onto my blog? Haha :-) Would you like a codename?
0916: Hahah you can :) Codename? Like what? :)
0927: I think 0916 would be safe :-) Haha. Since Globe makes up such a big part of our weird talks :-)
0916: Aryt :D
0927: Haha, text you later..life and homework makes people get out from under the blanket, every now and then :-/
| {11:30 AM}