Wednesday, May 20, 2009

it's like living in monotony where everything comes in all shades of grey, there's no color and there would never be. and then there's the person who has everything. the only one colored amongst the crowd, the one that stands out, and the only who's lips costantly curve upwards, which we often call a smile. even though she's the only one colored, she would always live in a world of grey and as much as she wants to believe it doesn't exist, grey is inevitable, it'll always be there.

when we're happy there's a world out there that's crying. and when we're crying, the world is still crying, nevertheless. it's like the things we see as big are nothing to them, and when we start living in grey we discover that all we did before was cry over nothingness, and the unexisting.

the colors cry over love, not being able to get the perfect boyfriend, the perfect date, the perfect valentine. but the grey also cries about love, which to them means, not having a family, seeing their mother die in front of their faces, the obligation to leave her alone and move on. moving on never promises their entitled happily ever after and then everything suddenly becomes nothing, when they realize that perhaps what is infront of them is their fate, they're confined to do the same.

they don't need to have colors, because to them colors is not what life is all about, all they need is love. because to them, love doesn't exist, and it hurts too much just to think about it. and to the colors, love is one thing and another, they will never run out of love, because there's always that one person, if not somebody who promises to stay. but the grey lives alone, yearning constantly for love, one thing that they wish to have, but seldom receives- and yet when have we ever tried to share?

19. "I shall take a heart," returned the Tin Woodman, "for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world."- the wizard of oz

i love you most ardently, 9:33 PM.