oh my gosh!

hmm..akala q d aq mkkpg-online..T_T

haixt..axsar.. ;p

well..here’s a fact..someone’s backstabbing me..oh yeah..but it’s okey cause i don’t need someone who can’t be true to his/herself..you know someone can’t be true to others unless he/she doesn’t lie to his/herself..i’ve been always true to them..but what did i got? something that shocks me..ow that’s exage xo maybe i just do’nt expect it..listen..you know who you are so don’t hide on your grandma’s skirt YOU COWARD!..okey!..this is not for only one person but for all the!..so c’mon honey,show yourself and give me what i deserve..you know what i mean?..apologize..hmmmm?!..

what if i tell all those things i’ve said was a freakin joke?!..

it’s not!..

it is!..

it’s not/it is..

haha.. ;p   

oh ‘cmon..i really want to join..so pls..i’m begging you lady ish..i think it’s great to ride on the train..the profile of fdr amazed me..yeah..hmm..it’s kinda late now but i’m still awake..i’m an insomia ghurl..wakokok..ouch the lights,the tv,the laptop,the electric fans are on..haha..i’m the only one awake here..haha..dunno but i’m pissed off..i’m so paranoid..haha..i miss my papa..huhu..anywayzz luv yah all..gonna end this blog now..

Sophie’s face faded into the gray winter light of the sitting room. She dozed in the armchair that Joe had bought for her on their fortieth anniversary. The room was warm and quiet. Outside it was snowing lightly.

At a quarter past one the mailman turned the corner onto Allen Street. He was behind on his route, not because of the snow, but because it was Valentine’s Day and there was more mail than usual. He passed Sophie’s house without looking up. Twenty minutes later he climbed back into his truck and drove off.

Sophie stirred when she heard the mail truck pull away, then took off her glasses and wipe her mouth and eyes with the handkerchief she always carried in her sleeve. She pushed herself up using the arm of the chair for support, straightened slowly and smoothed the lap of her dark green housedress.

Her slippers made a soft, shuffling sound on the bare floor as she walked to the kitchen. She stopped at the sink to wah the two dishes she had left on the counter after lunch. Then she filled a plastic cup halfway with water and took her pills. It was one forty-five.

There was a rocker in the sitting room by the front window. Sophie eased herself into it. In a half-hour the children would be passing by on their way home from school. Sophie waited, rocking and watching the snow.

The boys came first, as always, runnng and calling out things Sophie could not hear. Today they were making snowball as they went, throwing them at one another. One snowball missed and smackd hard into Sophie’s window. She jerked backward, and the rocker slipped off the edge of her oval rag rug.

The girl dilly-dallied after the boys, in twos and threes, cupping their mittened hands over their mouths and giggling. Sophie wonder if they were telling each other about the valentines they had received at school. One pretty girl with long brown hair stopped and pointed to her face behind the drapes, suddenly self-consious. When she looked out again, the boys and girls were gone. It was cold by the window, but she stayed there watching the snow conver the children’s footprints

A florist’s truck turned onto Allen Street. Sophie followed it with her eyes. It was moving slowly. Twice it stopped and started again. Then the driver pulled up in front of Mrs. Mason’s house next door and parked.Who would be sending Mrs. Mason flowers? Sophie wondered. Her daughter in Wisconsin? Or her brother? No, her brother was very ill. It was probably her daughter. How nice of her.

Flowers made Sophie think of Joe and, for a moment, she let the aching memory fill her. Tomorrow was the fifteenth. Eight months since his death.

The flower mans was knocking at Mrs. Mason’s front door. He carried a long white and green box and a clipboard. No one seemed to be answering. Of course! It was Friday - Mrs. Mason quilted at the church on Friday afternoons. the delivery man looked around, then started toward Sophie’s house.

Sophie shoved herself out of the rocker and stood close to the drapes. The man knocked. Her hands trembled as she straightened her hair. She reached her front hall on the third knock.

"Yes?" she said, peering around a slightly opened door. "Good afternoon, ma’am," the man said loudly. "Would you take a delivery for your neighbor?"

"Yes," Sophie answered, pulling the door wide open. "Where would you like me to put them?" the man asked politely as he strode in.

"In the kitchen, please. On the table." The man looked big to Sophie. She could hardly see his face between his green cap and full beard. Sophie was glad he left quickly, and she locked the door after him.

The box was as long as the kitchen table. Sophie drew near to it and bent over to read the lettering: "NATALIE’S Flowers for Every Occasion." The rich smell of roses engulfed her. She closed her eyes and took slower breaths, imagining yellow roses. Joe had always chosen yellow. "To my sunshine," he would say, presenting the extravagant bouquet. He would laugh delightedly, kiss her on the forehead, then take her hands in his and sing to her "You Are My Sunshine."

It’s was five o’clock when Mrs. Mason knocked at Sophie’s front door. Sophie was still at the kitchen table. The flower box was now open though, and she held the roses on her lap, swaying slightly and stroking the delicate yellow petals. Mrs. Mason knocked again, but Sophie did not hear her, and after several minutes the neighbour left.

Sophie rose a little while later, laying the flowers on the kitchen table. Her cheeks were flushed. She dragged a stepstool across the kitchen floor and lifted a white porcelain vase from the top corner cabinet. Using a drinking glass, she filled the vase with water, then tenderly arranged the roses and greens, and carried them into the sitting room.

She was smiling as she reached the middle of the room. She turned slightly and began to dip and twirl in small slow circles. She stepped lightly, gracefully, around the sitting room, into the kitchen, down the hall, back again. She danced till her knees grew weak, and then she dropped into the armchair and slept.

At a quarter past six, Sophie awoke with a start. Someone was knocking on the back door this time. It was Mrs. Mason.

"Hello, Sophie," Mrs. Mason said. "How are you? I knocked at five and was a little worried when you didn’t come. Were you napping?" She chattered as she wiped her snowy boots on the welcome mat and stepped inside. "I just hate snow, don’t you? The radio says we might have six inches by midnight, but you can never trust them, you know. Do you remember last winter when they predicted four inches, and we hand twenty-one? Twenty-one! And they said we’d have a mild winter this year. Ha! I don’t think it’s been over zero in weeks. Do you know my oil bill was $263 last month? For my little house!"

Sophie was only half-listening. She had remembered the roses suddenly and was turning hot with shame. The empty flower box was behind her on the kitchen table. What would she say to Mrs. Mason?

"I don’t know how much longer I can keep paying the bills. If only Alfred, God bless him, had been as careful with money as your Joseph. Joseph! Oh, good heavens! I almost forgot about the roses."
Sophie’s cheeks burned. She began to stammer an apology, stepping aside to reveal the empty box.

"Oh, good," Mrs. Mason interrupted. "You put the roses in water. Then you saw the card. I hope it didn’t startle your to see Joseph’s handwriting. Joseph had asked me to bring you the roses the first year, so I could explain for him. He didn’t want to alarm you. His ‘Rose Trust,’ I think he called it. He arranged it with the florist last Apirl. Such a good man, your Joseph…"

But Sophie had stopped listening. Her heart was pounding as she picked up the small white envelope she had missed earlier. It had been lying beside the flower box all this time. With trembling hands, she removed the card.

"To my sunshine," it said. "I love you with all my heart. Try to be happy when you think of me. Love, Joe."

ui! sorry d man lang aq nkpg-thank you sa ibnigay moh na xmas card..niwey..thank you tlga..hmm..kakahiya..naun lan kc aq nkareceive ng xmas card eh..happy nq..thank..

_ ____ ___..but ____ is not enough..all i want is the best for u..it’s been a year that we’ve been together..but we don’t even talk..we’re not free to do what we want coz it’s forbidden and we’re too young.."your broken heart can lead to you and me..2gether 4ever for better or worst baby trust when i say..i can heal your heal your broken heart.."

first time that I saw you I knewthat to you my heart would bthee truewe can’t be together nowbut I know we will somehowsomeway and someday, there’s gonna be a wayand I’ll wait forever for that day

e2 naiicp q..sna d 22o..alm moh,thankful aq bf kta..pnaparmdam moh nmn mhal moh q eh..c ano..ah pra kcng lagi cnasabi ng icp q na panakip butas lan aq..bka ndi kpa nkpgmove-on kay ano..hmm..dpat ndi moh nlan aq hinintay,dba xa din niaantay moh..sbi moh d kna namamncn ng iba,pg tinetext k nia imposibleng d moh xa papancnin..ok lan un..langya,mhal kta eh,and wula aq mggwa kun xa ang mhal moh,panakip butas lan nmn aq eh..T.T mskt,kala nio ba! an skit2 kea..hmf..kun pde lan wak na 2mgl kakaiyak..cno b nmn kc aq mgnda at sexy xa,tangna wulang wula aq..dpat d moh na kinomment sken ung video,pra sa knya nmn tlga un dba..ung knta ng milk2shed na fave nio?sa inyo na..an gagu q tlga amf..mhal kc kta eh..sna mkalimutan moh xa which is malabong manyari hay..T_T amf mhal n mhal moh xa,an skit nmn nun..karma cguro 2..langya durog heart q ah jejeje!..bkit gnto kasakit!

..the first duty of love is to listen..

emo music really fits my entire soul..

the perfect tune of sadness,

the growl of a bleedin heart,

the angst of the empty lyrics..

and the band itself,

that tries to be numb as they play their instruments..

just like those who listen to their masterpiece..

it’s the sweetest melody of a dying heart..