Since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ's body, let's just go ahead and be what we were made to be.
I'm a war, of head versus heart. Patchwork quilt for a girl, the name is Jasmine. But you picked me, yeah you picked me.
As for now, we will suffer silently in the cold, together, until dawn breaks.
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Tagged.
Analysis:
You desire a love that will last forever. You are quite serious about finding this type of love, and that's why you think carefully about the men that you meet before deciding whether you could really love them. You don't just develop a crush on someone overnight: you look at a person's personality and other aspects of their life before deciding to form an attachment. If a guy doesn't meet your expectations, you would rather be alone. Your love has to be perfect. Be careful though, you could be missing out on some worthy relationships because your standards are so high.
My mind’s still asleep. Yet, there’s so much noise coming in, stagnating and broiling and fermenting. No room for silence. Silence is music.
I want to pick out all the little grey and black dots from the composite image and just be left with the blank sheet of paper.
No voices. Not even my own. Then maybe I’ll hear my own heart again.
We fight till we're free,
We dance inside this tragedy.
She was the kind of girl who loved him so much that she kept duplicates of the only song he ever wrote spread throughout her playlist so that his voice would never stop surprising her.
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It's never quiet anymore. Can we sort lies, and put them under the seven different rainbow colors, or place them under titles like so and such. "I lied cus it's for your own good"/"You don't deserve me at my best. And truths, from me".
I'm baffled by Louis' decision. Keep up with the fervent prayers, cellgroup's gonna move from strength to strength, glory to glory. And I'm worried, I'm afraid I'll have no friends for Easter service. :(
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Because when I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away.
A LOT OF THINGS DON'T MATTER, JASMINE.
My problem is with anybody who just vanishes and then waltzes back in and expects to be instantly forgiven. And you. You always do this to me.
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Sunday like yesterday: Coffee Bean, Taxi stand, church, mango matcha, drama people, fellowship, punjabi, kongbapao, mantouyingying, slugsex, french fries, airport, orange julius, buses, little gay tunes.
I'm poppin' by at the hospital later to visit the babe, pray hope I don't get lost?
SWEET JESUS OF MINE, YOU'RE MY SOUL SATELLITE, I'D BE VERY LOST IN SPACE WITHOUT YOU.
& Ahem.
jũś†ƒŕЄЄĐθм15™: Above all else, guard your heart, for it affects everything you do. says (12:30 AM):
aiya you blur blur one... i tmr then tell you, just keep your phone on and contactable can le.
(...)
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I'm still a little drunk. But. Angel of mercy, how did you find me?
Tie your heart at night to mine, love,
and both will defeat the darkness
like twin drums beating in the forest
against the heavy wall of wet leaves.
Night crossing: black coal of dream
that cuts the thread of earthly orbs
with the punctuality of a headlong train
that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly.
Love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement,
to the grip on life that beats in your breast,
with the wings of a submerged swan,
So that our dream might reply
to the sky’s questioning stars
with one key, one door closed to shadow.
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Not saying anything doesn't mean I haven't make a decision.
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Breakfast in the morning sun, with the dancing breezes caressing our cheeks. It’s the kind of physical, dirt-under-your-nails satisfaction that you can only get by turning off the computer, going outdoors and re-connecting with the real world. That feeling, getting my feet wet and dirty when I stepped on puddles of rainwater, can't be matched to whatever the Internet could offer. This morning I wasn't at all reluctant to part with you, "go" really means go this time.