I like to wander aimlessly through crowded streets in foreign cities, searching for that one face in the sea of people.
I like to sleep just when the sun is peeking over the horizon, when I’m the first to greet the day before I fall into my endless slumber.
I want to feel the touch of a newborn’s fingers against my cheek, tightly holding on to my pinky, and the joy of witnessing new life.
I’ve often thought how simple life would be if we were all kindergartners once again, running around the playground without a care in the world.
My best friend said to live by faith and not by sight, to know that in the midst of chaos, God has a plan, and sometimes all we can do is let go and let God.
My dreams are of underprivileged children and young women, oppressed, without a voice, yearning for the chance to escape.
My favorite sound is the pitter-patter of rain as it falls on the rooftops, the splat of each drop as it strikes the sidewalk, and my little brother’s giggle as it hits his face.
A memorable smell is the waft of cologne as he walks by – the boy whom I so deeply cared about, the man who taught me so much – a waft which can take me back four years ago to that fated day.
I’ve never been to the land of fairy tales Prince Charmings, and damsels in distress, that world of make-believe, a bubble others choose to hide within.
I sometimes feel completely amazed at how perfect everything has become, how every piece of the puzzle is finally in its place, and how life does work out in the long run.
The worst thing is settling for less than you deserve, choosing the easy road because you fear failure when your standards should be limitless and your potential overflowing.
Dramatic is my little sister and I when we’re imitating the beautiful people of Lord of the Ring and their glorious mane.
My mother’s voice holds memories that words cannot describe, the good, the bad, the laughter, and the tears of these past 18 years, only one person has been there through it all.
I cry when I saw how beautiful she is, how happy and carefree you are when you’re with her, and when I finally accept that we can never be.
Time is a thing of the past, a mirage of the future, but mine for the taking now, in the present, in this very moment. The question now becomes – what will I do?
I long for a soul who can understand mine on a level beyond spoken or written words, with an intimacy that forces me to be vulnerable, by a mere chance of fate.
I never will become a mere stop along the way for I am the destination.