kikis-diary-service-blog

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une moitié

Si j’avais rempli

juste une des

deux moitiés de ton

beau cœur,

juste la moitié

de la moitié

de la moitié

de ton âme,

j’aurais été

contente

d’avoir te faire heureux.

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Laissez-moi pas

Sortir

Partir

Quitter

Abandonner

Laissez-moi pas,

S’il vous plaît.

J’implore

Et je prie

Que vous ne partirez pas

 Mais je sais

Que quitter

C’est un évènement naturel

Inévitable

Et inéluctable.

Je prie qu’il se passera pas,

Mais prier

Ne fera rien.

 Rien,

C’est rien.

Partir, c’est rien.

Ces émotions et

Ces mémoires

Sont rien.

Car s’ils signifient

Quelque chose très grande,

Je doute que

Je pourrais supporter la

Blessure émotionnelle.

 Laissez-moi pas,

Je prie.

Je crie, j’hurle,

J’écris ici.

Peut-être si je crois

Que je vous verrai

Encore,

Je le croirai vraiment

Bientôt,

Eventuellement.

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Un amour facile

Un sourire

Très facile,

Des yeux amusants,

Un rire

Surréel

 Je me sens un amour

Très facile,

Expérience des moments

Surréels

Que je me souviens,

Que je retiens,

Comme des photographies

Douces

 Mais je ne trouve pas

Un amour

Je cherche seulement

Mes propres émotions,

Ne trouve pas ceux des autres.

Si, un jour,

Tu peux trouver

Un amour pour moi,

Est-ce que tu pourrais

Me dire ?

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me on a date: so... haha... when did you realise your standards were this low? :)

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How well do you see color?

I’m cry I scored 60, I feel blind

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i guess i should've realized this sooner or i guess i just didn't want to/wouldn't have wanted to realize or accept it: i'm not a particularly liked person. people don't look for my face in a crowd. ever. no one wants to really take pictures with me, except maybe one or two. no one really.. cares. i get i'm not the most charming person. and i get that sometimes i tend to look too much for familiar faces and often i see them but not vice versa. maybe i need to chill and realize that i have to deal with this and be mature and simply stuff it in. i realize not everyone would ever like me, and that maybe very few like me at all. i am not an amazing person. i possess flaws, i possess issues and faults and terrible things and i've got a bad personality. i am an idiot and a selfish brat. which is likely why i can't hold any of this in. i kept myself enclosed and chill to offset my internal turmoil. people just never look for me. i think it's a problem within myself.

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I Photograph Parisian Storefronts To Reveal The Story Of Paris Rarely Seen By Tourists (15+ Pics)

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Life question from a favorite book.

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i dont feel like myself lately

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She knocked over a box of recyclables and loafed in it.

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I think [Period] is probably one of, if not my favourite out of the opening sequences of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood; and I realized a few days ago that it’s because I feel like this opening is the only one that directly pits Edward and Alphonse side by side together for most of the opening. I’ve noticed some of the openings (e.g. Golden Time) are more Edward-oriented, and, as much as I give him credit for attention as he is the main character, I can’t help but long for more brother-with-brother significance in the openings. I feel like Alphonse is pretty much just as significant a character in the story as Edward is, and the importance of each brother to the other one is so strong throughout the story; the opening sequence should do well to reflect that crucial aspect of the series. The Period opening, I found, was also great because of the animation quality with Pride/Selim Bradley (and I personally really liked the busting of the Doors of Truth towards the end) as well as the featuring of Winry and May Chang as sort of pivotal supportive characters for the Elric brothers, as well as showing the vastness of all the lives with whom they’ve traveled or the lives they’ve helped or have helped them; their friends, their homes, their families. I figure this opening was very bond-oriented and I really appreciate that. ((Although it could’ve used some more Mustang and Hawkeye and such because I’m a sucker for the military squads.)

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some words on graduation and parting friends

Sometimes I think you don’t realize the vast gaping feeling of missing someone for a while. I did not realize the extent of the space in my heart and my life that would be left from an older friend graduating my school. I did not realize it until the first day we returned from vacation. Did not think I would miss him too much if I saw my friends my age and I would be quite thrilled to see them. The second statement was very true; I was thrilled when I saw my friends, now grade eleven, all of us. The first hypothetical statement turned out to be a terrible misconception. I miss him. I miss him very much. I knew he would be missed, but I did not realize how much. How often. How frighteningly saddening it would be, how obvious of a space there would be in my life where he used to be; a void. A constant presence, a broad back in a red plaid long-sleeve, seated on a chair in the foyer for hours after school. The occasional comforting, dampened music of a violin throughout the cafeteria once the tables have been folded away and a lone artist practicing that night’s rehearsal piece. The warm hands crafting a new piece in the art room where I had been too afraid to venture alone before.

With this friend, boy, potential.. nah, I sat in the front foyer, backs resting at a column, handing him a fine purple pen and my planner – no, I couldn’t afford to have gotten a yearbook that year. It was only grade ten. I wouldn’t have too many memorable moments, people, friends, would I? “A year in a book,” I said. An agenda. That was what it was, essentially, literally, wasn’t it? So I had gotten the majority of my close friends or even not-so-close art class pals to sign it, on any date they liked – maybe their birthday, or just some unoccupied week. He flipped it open – October 29th to the 31st. at first reluctant, he began to write. Initially he refused to jot down more than little inside jokes, some nicknames, some humourous little remarks – “practice viola kiddo” or “HAGS” in big, bold letters. Then I persisted. “Come on!” A little disappointed look, and eventually he began to write some more. He spoke his words aloud as he wrote them, so that I wasn’t sure which he did first. He spoke and wrote slowly, and my eyes began to water with each passing word or sentence slowly.

“Don’t cry,” he said numerous times as he wrote. But if there was any advice he could have given me, that may have been the least effective. We sat there for a while, pretty much the entire fifth block – he had an off-block or his classes were over by then, I presumed. It was June. We sat there, in the foyer by the column. In those moments we were two friends, fairly alone and fairly sentimental. In that moment I was skipping class for the first time, to sit with a friend who would be parting instead, not knowing whether I would be in trouble or if my teacher wouldn’t really notice, or mind. Not knowing whether this would be the first and last time I’d do this, or just the first.

In that moment, I swear, I experienced the most heartfelt exchange in my life thus far. I cried like at the airport when my sister departed for university. And I cried because graduation may be optimistically called a beginning, but sometimes, it’s also so tragically an end.

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Katatsumori (Naomi Kawase, 1994)

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rewatching fmab ((sorta forgot how much I love this series))

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i love baby's breath flowers