The Blogger


Pinky. 18. PH.
An Architecture junior.
former : utakbiha
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    i once described myself as a flower,
    a fragile flower with bruised petals
    that poisoned her whole being,
    and whenever i try to wilt
    someone will always fill me up,
    someone will always stop my petals from wilting,

    there are days i wished that i can be the autumn leaves
    that fall to the dirt and still be adored
    from people who watched it danced in the air,
    but i could never be an autumn leaf,
    it falls to the ground, 
    graceful and beautiful
    while i'm here in the dirt,
    stepped on and wilting.

    i was once strong like the thorns of the roses
    but i got poisoned, i bled and now,
    i suffer. 

    weak like the fallen autumn leaves
    but poisonous like the calla lilies
    that grows in our backyard,
    once i wilt and my petals fall
    i will never be the same crimson face girl
    you once loved.
          

    (Source: inksandwords, via inksandwords)

    Detach. Don’t feel. Be happy.

    As the year 2014 starts I’ am determined to be a better person. The past year has been a one hell roller coaster ride for me. There were a lot of ups and downs and a lot of tears had been shed. I spent a lot of time with the wrong people & I ended up losing myself, losing my own identity as an individual. I let them hurt me, control me & judge me. I will try to be not the same person anymore.

    (Source: nicholasmax)

    (Source: makemestfu.net, via makemestfu)

    somewhere inside of me
    i know i’m not really sad
    I was a mix of so many emotions
    i can’t name them all
    so i just say i’m sad.

    (Source: theroomofsecrethoughts)

    And if
    I’m going to leave
    this world soon and
    leave the
    people I love behind.
    I want them to
    remember the short conversation
    i have uttered to them,
    the laughters and smiles
    I gave them.

    I want them to remember
    the silence, pain
    and struggles
    I have shared with them,
    the pauses and breaths
    between unending
    conversations.

    I want them to remember
    my moles and crates
    on my face,
    the contour of my face
    and the sound of my voice
    for I know that’s
    the only thing that
    I will remember to them.

    (Source: inksandwords, via inksandwords)

    (Source: makemestfu)