GEORGE BEDFORD DANIEL

I don’t know why, I don’t know when. But right now, you are the sole reason why my trance and I wouldn’t meet at 3:17am. May the gods hear my prayer, let me hold you in my arms. Even for 30 seconds. Please, please, please, heal that broken shoulder.

Photo credits to Google

Photo credits to Google

I love you, giant.

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Paris – The 1975

Listening to that song right now. Since last week.

Is there a danger in daydreaming? My sense of reality is starting to crush. I am starting to believe that I am a lost daughter of a French Royale who they want to get connected to again after 21 years of suffering from life and its void. And here I am getting instant rich with money to use to replenish what my “foster” family miss – a prospered house, head-turning cars, good business, and a high sense of comfort and security.

I am also starting to get lost in thoughts that I am happy with a lover who accepts me for who I am – possibly my present boyfriend or my present crush, George Daniel of The 1975. We’re happy wandering in Paris, getting baked in Amsterdam, trespassing in the secret areas of Vatican, and probably enjoying the nights in London filled with booze and good smoke. I’ll wake up in the arms of my lover, unaware of the time. It will stay for a while before I go back and run the business I have created for me.

I. AM. GETTING. CRAZIER. Help mee ee.

05/28/16

The Million Dollar Question

And here’s to ask the million dollar question:

What’s the point really? Of living our everyday lives? I don’t think we wake up every morning because of your god, or your lord, or your messiah, or whatever prophet or deity you are ought to believe.

Tell me, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind as you open your eyes the first time you wake up. I don’t remember my dreams well, and the only thing that is clear to me is the ceiling. I wake up, take a bath, brush my teeth, dress up, then go directly to my 10-7 routine at work. The longer this is happening, the more I am questioning this – what’s the point really?

Why? Why can’t we just go away from these people who don’t have anything in their minds but fame and social stability? Why can’t we just go as far as the pacific and drown ourselves with thoughts that, we, ourselves, can only understand? Tell me, why can’t I just simply run away faster than the north breeze and be whenever I want with green fields and never-ending sunset? I know, I know life isn’t fair, and things aren’t easy, but do we have to experience bad times all the time? If we have no rights to see the good in ourselves then where’s the “unfair” in that consistency? I’m in constant demise.

You see, we just want to be know the feeling of having a freedom to experience what our soul seek to find. We just want to make peace between with the amends of our inner self – or selves. Never worry. Once we taste the ecstasy in this nirvana, a small dose is enough to bring us back to reality. No, we’re not ambitious to stay that way. We know that life is unfair. We know our limits. And for so long while living in this despair, we’ve managed to build our own homes within our sorrow where we find our box of comfort. Trust me, without these, we are nothing. Masochistic? I think not. We are just used to it. Tell me, how hard is it for you to leave home?

04/05/2016 | 12:18am

Jealousy – it is what eats me at every 9 o’clock in the morning. It is what runs in my veins when dawn comes, and there is nothing but emptiness on my side. It is when I see people with a genuine smile, knowing how their bliss is so unadulterated. Jealousy is what runs in me along with the RBC and WBC. It is an illness that one has yet to unfold, with various theories, and make-belief medicines. Jealousy is when I see you and your amazing feed. It’s when I know that you are happy with what you have since my happiness has been destroyed a thousand times. Broken into pieces, shattered on the floor. Your god knows what I am talking about as it hears me most of the night before I go to sleep

To the best ones..

To the real best ones, my Mama and Daddy,

I love you. I hope you know how my heart would crush whenever I would leave home on Sundays to spend the rest of the weekdays at work. I miss spending time with you. And despite the arguing and inappropriate gestures, I hope you know how you mean to me. I owe you my life. So I will try my best to give you the everything that I know you’ve been wanted to have. I love you. I will always do.

 

Imported from my previous blog. Originally written last January 1, 2016