Excerpt from a book I'll never write #5

I remember the first time I leaned my head on your shoulder or the first time you held my hand so tight. I remember how you would text me everyday just to make sure I was okay. And now here I am, leaning on the wall of my 2 bedrooms apartment and holding a cheap bottle of beer with tears running down my cheeks. I don't even know what enters my mouth anymore, my tears or the beer? All I know is my throat burns like hell and that I've been sending you a lot of drunken texts and calls saying how much I miss you but all I get is a distant sound of you and some other girl.

He is a raging fire and I am a blown out candle. He lits me up, but in the end, his fire will burn out the candle until it completely disappears.

Excerpt from a book I'll never write #4

"Forever." He says confidently.

And her minds is a chaos. She never believes in a concept of forever. How can someone promise a forever when no one knows about tomorrow? We never know about what's going to happen tomorrow or next year, let alone forever.

He might meet a beautiful girl tomorrow in a cafe and instantly falls in love with her. He might talk with a girl in a bus and falls in love with the way she thinks. He might fall in love with someone else's eyes, someone else's laughter and smile and then he'd completely forget all about me and my dull eyes. He'd forget why he fell in love with me in the first place and everything would be gone.

No, forever is a very very long time and no one can promise a forever.

"The happiest people don't have the best of everything, they just make the best of everything"

The question is,
How do you make the best of everything?

It's funny how a year ago you wished to end up with him and now you wish to end up with another one and there is a chance that a year from now on, you'll wish to end up with someone you don't even know, now.

It's funny how feelings can jump from a person to another person and to another person just because of the time.

excerpt from a book I'll never write #3

"How much in love were you that night?" I finally said, "when you first kissed me on our third date,"

"So much. I was so in love with you that night and it was that kind of love that consumed every inch of my body."

"And how much in love are you now?"

"So much," He paused, "But, it's not you anymore... things did change, didn't it?" He continued, "And besides, you never really believe in love, anyway."

"Things changed, didn't it? I changed my mind about love and you changed your mind about loving me," She let out a bitter laugh, "yeah, things really did change."

Blank Canvas

You would never be able to paint her. She's a picture of thousand birds soaring and dancing through the evening sky, a picture of freedom. She's a picture of black and white and yet a picture of a colorful rainbow you wish to see after a heavy rain. She's a picture of thousand shining stars on the night sky. A picture of light and gold. She's a picture of green forest you'd have no problem getting lost in. A picture of deep blue ocean where you'd like to drown yourself in. A picture of perfection.

She's an art, and like other arts, not everyone can understand her. She's an art with so many hidden meanings.

And yet, she's also a white blank canvas, waiting for someone to paint her smile. Waiting for someone to unwhite the canvas. Waiting for someone to put emotions on her.