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1
Creative Corner / Re: GRADE two, CRUSH! ♥
« Last post by TINEPOTTER on Today at 12:12:17 PM »
hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii :)
please have time to read my story :)
2
Lovelife / Re: If your heart could sing, what song would it sing?
« Last post by superjeanelle on October 21, 2014, 11:58:14 PM »
"When he was mine, everything was easy. Everything was simple. Never felt so good, when he was mine. I wanted to remember. Never missed a second, now I wish I could forget."
3
Trendspotting / Re: Bags [Merged]
« Last post by marielledmendoza on October 21, 2014, 11:26:55 AM »
For trendy and classy bags at affordable prices please visit https://www.facebook.com/labellavitaph:-*
4
Who's Who? / Re: Hi Guys! Sherine here. Need a friend. :))
« Last post by IAmSherineJoyce on October 20, 2014, 08:09:39 PM »
hi  ;D I'm a accountancy student in Holy Angel University in Pampanga. Hope we can be friends :)

Hi there!!! Sure. Friends na tayo. :) Buti ka pa pinansin mo ko. :( Hahaha. :))
5
Creative Corner / Re: Memories [English short]
« Last post by ThatPotatoGirl on October 20, 2014, 06:02:10 PM »
This is very touching to read.
OMG! MY FEELS.  :'(
6
Creative Corner / Memories [English short]
« Last post by esowtoo on October 20, 2014, 01:15:23 PM »
Memories

People tell me that grief is a straight line, as if it can be represented in some mathematical form. They tell me that the tangibility of my sorrow should decrease over time like a house loan or my black hair. But it doesn’t. Grieving does not have a definite start, middle, or an end –it cannot be represented with numbers or lines. Grief is neither science nor maths. It is fragmented, divided into different seasons like the earth. Some days, the world seems like it can do no wrong: my hair is not dishevelled in such a way that I want to cut it all off, my socks actually match, and I enjoy being under the rays of the fiery sun. But then there are days when I hear a song, smell something, or sometimes, it’s just the colour of the milky sky that heaves me back into a well of memories and sorrow. There are days when all of a sudden, the palpability of the ache is at its greatest.

I was twenty nine then, strapped in my seat as the train rushed around the suburbs, stopping to pick up the passengers that weren’t there. The memory came to me with absolute clarity: the sky was still dark; the lingering petrichor was an evidence of the cold July rains that just drenched the earth. Soft music began to flow from the speakers: a soft rendition of the Sara Barielles’ “Gravity”. The delicate music and soft strumming of the guitar never failed to send shudders through me but that time, I was more mesmerised than ever.

It’s times like those when I remember her with such lucidity I can almost touch her. I have never figured out why but every time that the sky meets the break of dawn, nostalgia takes over me. There’s a uniqueness about the wintry zephyr and the tranquillity of the artic daybreak that just makes me remember her; when I can actually feel her. She was a part of me after all and when she died, she took a part of me too.

It has been five years since I last saw her—her crooked smile, her soft black hair and dark bright eyes. It feels like an eternity since I last heard her voice after waking up from a deep slumber; since I felt her soft lips, nauseating, exhilarating, taking everything that I was and ever will be. Five years has gone by since she left and there are still times when moments of my past seep into my present, her memories filling every crevice of my being with insanity-inducing melancholy.

It’s unbelievable how I didn’t notice it back when it mattered; how I didn’t recognise what she was telling me when we were sitting under the night sky, breathing the darkness in with our corrupted lungs, her burnt skin against mine; I heard the unforgiving crackle of the bonfire, smelled the lingering muskiness in the air.

What I didn’t know was that she would soon also fade into the dancing embers.



Her hair swayed with the winter breeze as she held the stubbed out butt of a cigarette. God damn, she was so beautiful as the wind howled against her winter-chapped lips.

“I’m falling into it again.” She said as she held my hand with her chilly fingers, exhaling her warm breath into my palms: breathing life into it.

“Falling into what?”

“Depression.”

And that’s when she told me everything. From how she lost the ability to string together flowing lines of coherent sentences, the physical difficulty of opening her mouth and making the words come out. She told me how every time she tried to spit what she wanted to say, they didn’t come out as smoothly as they used to—that they came out in chunks; she stumbled upon them and they clogged up behind her lower lip so she just kept quiet.

She told me how her come-downs never meet their fall. She revealed her hatred for her own self; how people imprinted her uselessness in her brain and no matter how much she tries to wash it all away with the good things: the crashing of the waves, the crows of seagulls, the sound of the rain pattering against an old tin roof, nothing happens. The world is stained with so much madness that no good could ever fix it.

And do you know what I said? “I love you.”

As if my love was a solution to her brokenness. As if I could make everything better with just three words.

The thing is: I don’t think that I could have said anything that would have changed her mind that night. I think her mind was made up and that was her way of telling me.

That was the last night that I spent with her.



My memories of her are still the best ones I have ever had and probably ever will have. I feel like a camera, focusing on them in all of their clarity and haziness. I put them in queues like dominoes, peer inside them, scrutinise them pixel by pixel, gaze at their own brevities and minuteness. I would have liked to have a bit more time with her but I have learnt to accept that she’s gone and all I can do is appreciate the moments that we had –their beauties and their pains, their would haves, could haves, and should haves.

Because that’s all I can ever do.

Now let me tell you something about my wife: she wasn’t perfect. She was better than perfect. She was a flower in the middle of the rain. She was filled with wit and warmth and elegance and kindness. She loved life as much as it loved her. She loved it in a way only she did and her love still lingers in everything she left behind: in me, in her friends, her work, even her books and movies and TV shows. Her food and music. Our house, our neighbourhood. Our evening walks. Her now empty shoes. Her expired passport which took her everywhere. Her razor which brought her to rest.

She loved. She is loved, and oh god I miss her.
7
Who's Who? / i was lost bUT IM BACK
« Last post by esowtoo on October 20, 2014, 01:06:30 PM »
Hi friends! My name is Liane and I'm from Australia. I haven't been on this site fore 3 years, haaaay memories. I feel like I missed out on a lot but I'm back and yay to making new friends!!!!! (pls be my friend I'm desperate) (I'm kidding I'm not desperate but i will luv u a lot)

AND THIS IS A PHOTO OF ME IF UR CURIOUS <3

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BzZ-Z6NCQAEpgAf.jpg
8
Creative Corner / Re: Wattpad Addicts Here??
« Last post by ancan1987 on October 20, 2014, 09:46:13 AM »
i love he's into her, all jonaxx' stories, paper sky & coffee cath by baka usagi, MPMMN & all its side stories, boyfriend corp, you can check my wattpad acct @ ancan18   :)
btw newbie here  ;)
9
Creative Corner / Re: Confessions of a Good Girl
« Last post by ThatPotatoGirl on October 19, 2014, 11:27:07 PM »
This story is interesting. I'll stay tune for this. If I may ask, do you write in a site called wattpad?
10
Creative Corner / Dawn here...
« Last post by ThatPotatoGirl on October 19, 2014, 11:23:25 PM »
Hi, my name is Dawn.
I don't collect Candy mag but I collect PopFic books, which is also part of summit media.
I'm a newbie. I write at wattpad under the username ThatPotatoGirl.
I'll be honest, I'm not friendly but I'll always do my best to be affable. I'm nice if you're nice  ;)

My introduction is very frank but please don't be intimidated to approach me. I'd also like to meet my fellow wattpad author (if you got an account there please PM me)
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ˇHola! Thinking of a great place to treat your friends and family? We were invited to the launch of Alqueria Restaurante Y Chocolateria, and with its soothing house music, cozy interiors,...

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