[3-23-2015]

[3-23-2015]

Dear Reader,

I seriously suck for not updating in a long while again. I feel like every single time I’ll update I’m going to have to catch up with everyone. It seriously sucks how I’m not consistent all the time [paradox intended]. Nonetheless, I was really prompted to write something new; something I’ve never done before…because why the heck not.

Anyway, check out “Halle and the Godmother.” If you have a thing for all those princessy¬†thing, you should try and read it. I want to hear from you guys too. I’m sure that’ll be fun. Talk to you soon~

–Annie Sparkle

PS: It’s summer break. Yay.

Turning page

Turning page

The recurring sadness sinks deep within
Even when the moon forbids it to move
It returns uninvited, unwanted
To she who yearns it not; delights it not
Shadows haunt and heats the target spot
Even when she’s frozen by the undead
Souls which drift yet exist not
She knows nothing of darkness but
It abruptly comes much to her dismay
Along with the price she could not pay
Whatever did she do to the life she chose?
When Time promised her wounds won’t grow?
Whatever happened to what love did propose?
Perchance she may or may never know.

How to love the broken

How to love the broken

Love her and her scars altogether.
Every ripe bruise and cranny;
kiss them. Love them hard.
Healing them is impossible.
Stitching back the cuts and wounds
won’t ever do. Medicines cannot
cure what you cannot view.
And I humbly ask; knees on the floor,
don’t lie to her to cure her because
that won’t do. Lovely words that
are empty don’t say that you love.
They only speak of living death.
You’re not a murderer, aren’t you?
If you want to stab her hard,
you can always wound her with
words you utter; you need not tie
your tongue to hers just prove yours
to be sharper than any blade created.

Don’t fix her; build her.
Love her broken bones.
That is what she is made of
Cobwebs and dust; cuts and bruises;
pain and anguish; bravery and fearlessness
and all that is magical in between.

Dreams

Dreams

“Whatever happened to all the dreams you’ve always thought before you slept every night. Whatever happened to the dreams that you wished to see when you close your eyes and drift in solitude under the moonlit sky. Whatever happened¬†to that teddy bear that you kept hugging in the dark; the one that pretended to be the man who would wake you up every morning…,” asked my Fairy Godmother. She traced my hair and caressed each strand she could reach. Her voice sounded so worried internally that I felt her hand shaking as she stroked my hair; lovingly in each move. “The sunshine would gleam in his eyes and the rays of sunlight gave the honey glow in his cheeks.”

“What dreams?” I asked. I looked at her straight in the eye with my face showing no sign of feeling at all. “I have never slept in a long while.”

FOLA E-mail Blasts

FOLA E-mail Blasts

Huh. I actually just realized that I got lots of emails because I signed up for that Chinese Lessons. Well it’s for free. And I think it just might help a lot with my Mandarin lessons in the university. I mean DUUUUUUUDE; I know my uni isn’t that up for the whole “Mandarin shebang” to be extra awesome in teaching the language but I believe one day, it’s going to be fruitful.

Maybe today it sucks. Maybe tomorrow it won’t.

In the mean time, I’m going to catch up. Hey. Are you interested for that thing tho? Well then here’s a link to YOYO Chinese. They effectively teach Chinese. It’s actually pretty cool. Might be fun right?

Alright. I think I gotta go.

[3-8-2015]

[3-8-2015]

Dear Reader,

Been a while. Basically, I’ve been tied tightly down to my studies. I did not have the opportunity to post new stuff. But here’s good news! I have found in my archive that I have lots of stuff in store for you, readers [which I cannot actually call my fans]. I think I’m going to bombard my blog with some pieces.

Oh and by the way… Most of these pieces were written a long time ago. This might be a good time for me to peer through time and check out what used to be. I actually this is going to be fun as we all get to realize how amazing the joy of learning is. Tell then.

— Annie Sparkle

PS: I’ll prolly be exposing stuff more using this “Dear Reader” section. These posts will be short. I’m sure no one would even dare check this part out but hey. I tried.

What Kicks-in Can Kill

What Kicks-in Can Kill

Pep talk after pep talk and you believe words can put you up just as it’s capable of bringing you down. For once, screw that and you know you’re going to make it. And you can.

But what you call nightmares aren’t nightmares. What call ghosts aren’t ghosts either. They’re not monsters that hide under your bed and haunts you at 2AM. They’re not bad dreams that would eat up your rest in the middle of the night and frustrate you for wanting to sleep so bad; no matter what you do, you just can’t do anything about it.

The stress, the pressure, the drama…all of them, they’re real. Suffice to say that they could not hence be your fears either. But they’re you.

Basically it’s you.

You are the stress. You are the pressure. You are the drama. You are what haunts you so long as you fail to control yourself. You become the nightmare, the monster… You become them if you keep letting it kick in over and over until you lose the drive to keep going.

Imagine that. Perhaps suicide might not sift in your mind but it doesn’t salvage you from the dark side, the realm were all the impossible and possible don’t happen. And it’s not a great place. It’s like getting trapped in an eternal swamp that would keep eating you whole. But is that what you would keep choosing? Shit getting into you and pull you away from everything that’s important, from everything that matters?

I remember someone saying that even the darkest hour only lasts for sixty minutes. You know, she was right. And you know deep down that you should not let that last any longer than it should.

Otherwise, it could kill you. It could kill the real you. You don’t want that. “YOU” got to live.