| when i am without you |
[26 Jan 2006|01:40pm] |

i wake up in the darkness but without you beside me i have no will to wonder anymore
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| 若我們可以這樣就好了 |
[18 Jan 2006|11:30pm] |
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how do you swallow a confession you're dying to spit;
prevent yourself from falling into the arms of a bottomless pit;
and deny the voice of your heart; that is screaming so out loud.
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| 我還記得 |
[03 Jan 2006|06:40pm] |
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i'll never forget that i used to wake up for you; that i used to live everyday just so to see you again
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| giving in to love |
[16 Dec 2005|08:20pm] |
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preparation is always the best part of christmas ♡ it'll be better this year because having a holiday job means i can splurge more on christmas gifts! even though everybody say it's really the thought that counts, giving something cheap and useless during the christmas season doesn't feel right. and i found some ( really pretty things ) over here (:
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| slashed; giving up on you |
[11 Dec 2005|12:19am] |
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silence and quiet, again in my life far from these moments, i wish i was passion and truth, we were about before these shadows, stole the beat of our hearts
looking at you, through the eyes you lied to after all if there is no way out if we cannot stand side by side if there isn't love there is only pride
where do we go where did it all crash when did it start to fall apart
silence and quiet passion and the truth shadows, and only shadows
*
so hurt. how do people ever cope with the feeling of betrayal?
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| growth of a bud |
[23 Nov 2005|10:54pm] |
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you know that he has grown, when he unconsciously prepares to hide the very thin, yet very visible, link that had joined the energetic display of whirring blades to the worn old switchboard; filled with dusty fingerprints.
you know that he has grown, when he no longer persuades you to allow him to drill a hole into that freshly painted piece of wall for him to show off that precious masterpiece of childishly vibrant hanger he had painted.
that no more.
now, he uses blu-tack to adhere plain, wooden knobs to the back of his bedroom door. it is for him to hang his designer cloths. no crayon-marked drawings; nor fresh roses for you no more;
that no more.
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