I am writing in my livejournal.....its some lotho i know I've been for quite sometime, there is a kid at heart in here, and its cute...

Dear LiveJournal,

Today I saw this:

“Victory is won not in miles but in inches. Win a little now, hold your ground, and later, win a little more.”

Its a nice thought from some author.

but you know what,
things do get destroyed,
hearts broken,
souls empty.
we are sometimes just too exhausted,
we try to bake cupcakes,
we listen to your friends aches and joys,
we light incenses...
outdoing yourself in some ways you think you could,
maybe even faster.

We all really kind of just don't know what to do with ourselves.
With, maybe, even our lives...
These are times when even the cocktails don't work.

I'm pouring in a little bit of love for myself for now,
kept still in my silence.
and just try to go with the puzzle of life,
sometimes, you ask why, and then you get an answer,
and there are times you don't.

And you know how they say that Love indeed is the greatest?
It can bend a steel.
How sadly Delight became Delirium
yet how glorious,
Dream became Daniel...

We die of too much exhaustion,
and the greatest of pains of passion.

But you know what?
we keep on going.
just keep on going.
and maybe at one time you accidentally just stare at a gleam of sun,
you will just feel like closing your eyes,
things just feel a little bit more fine.

To you, kid at heart livejournal self, take good care ok?
this is this phase when you grow some leaves again
keep steady with the rains.
flowers will blossom soon,
and you're gonna see them one nice day,
and then you're gonna smile,
like how you used to?
that smile with the weird eye gesture. yes, that one.
and there would be nothing else to say...
nothing else to say...



  1. how lovely passionate people render themselves..

    how majestic they pour their emotions out..

    how heroic we still breathe and do what we do..

    cheers to life..cheers to love..cheers to redemption..cheers to you rolando..

    you will live forever in the fiery heart's heart as a saint in our most sordid lives