stardustpubs

[stardustpubs]

Hangover

I want to set myself free, but it feels like I can’t. One way or another, thoughts of you keep popping in my mind. It’s only something trivial, something about feeling guilty to say that I love you.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. 

Source: Pinterest

What do I really know about you? 

You know, it's funny, 

I can't seem to name one thing, 

Did my memories fade over two years? 

Or did I know nothing from the start? 

Besides that pretty little smile of yours, 

I wonder, 

My emotions probably weren't even real, 

It was petty, it was dull, 

There was no reason, I just fell hard,

 All the things I said,

They were only indulged fantasies, 

But enough about that,

I have already put my heart to rest, 

Though, these thoughts will still linger in my mind, 

Always reminding me, 

That I may have sinned, 

To throw my heart out all too blindly.

[stardustpubs]

Kawaii! More works from my friend PenGwen! This time, it’s us. Amazing! More importantly, I look good with a hoodie. uwu

[stardustpubs]

False Hue

An artist who shapes reality and a writer who only dreams of reality cannot exist together. There must be a reason why their worlds are so much apart...at least, in our case.  

My first attempt in poetry! (Is it really a poem though?).

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you.  Source: Pinterest

Despite the sizzle of oil, the searing of meat,

 I smelled fresh daisies, 

A complete stranger asked for my  name,

Seemingly gaudy, seemingly innocent, 

Probably lovely, probably sweet, 

Angel-looking as bespectacled, 

A paper crown veiled, 

Head over heels I went for the joker. 

No, never, 

Not a liar, not a villain either, 

The stranger was just a lost boy, 

With walls built too high, 

With a heart sunken too deep, 

Always wandering between the familiar and the unknown, 

Always selflessly selfishly deciding. 

Remember the bus ride home? 

The view outside our window was a blur, 

But I swear I could see the stars floating above us, 

You'd say you can feel the soft lump of fabric that night,

But I'd say I can feel your warmth pressing gently, 

Pretending to listen to the beat of your heart. 

I might as well be giddy, 

Dreams of euphoria don't come too often, 

May be once in a lifetime, 

May be once in my lifetime. 

Obviously clearly forgetting, but now realizing I was,

Dreaming blindly, reckless empathy I did, 

Half-meant sweets still lingering in aftertaste,

Now I have these scars, 

Abruptly, 

Suddenly, 

Intentionally. 

 All I have left, 

All I can keep, 

Is a dull and blue portrait of myself, 

In a cheap smile, with wings not meant to fly, 

Not broken, not fixed, only weak, 

"I did not make the best of it, 

I just wanted to get it over with," 

Said to me. 

I'm  sorry, 

I must have been an inconvenience to you, 

I'm sorry, 

You have gotten to know me, 

I'm sorry, 

To have seen colors that weren’t really there.

[stardustpubs]

From Neverland

     What does it mean to love someone? Do you have to sacrifice everything for the sake of their happiness? Will it come naturally over time? Are there things you have to change about yourself? How does it last forever? May be these are all the wrong questions to ask. May be it's the wrong perception of love. People often stereotypes love; but in actuality; love is diverse, a different case for everyone. Written in these pages is the final journal entry of a man who struggled to keep his love going, but instead, witnessed the death of his high school sweetheart from  a deadly disease that had torn apart many. Being in love with someone for years until you are forced to move on whether you like it or not is no easy task. I guess forever is not enough to measure how one can love. A lifetime? May be. Probably. We might never know. These things should just be left aside as a superficial distant future. For all we know, love is boundless.

A dashing first attempt of a bittersweet love story that is relatable in some way or another.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

November 21, 2017

Huxley Lofts Apartments, Room 208

478 Railroad Street, Groton, NY

      A month has passed since tragedy struck this apartment. It's been an entire month of wistfulness and wander. The incident almost seems like a dream by now, slowly sinking to memory, scar emerging. But echoes and memoirs of my past deeds, whether in bliss or in woe, still haunts me to my very being.

    Me. Her. Us. And everything in between.

    It all begs me to remember when I try my best to forget. But maybe I don't need to forget. May be what I need is to learn from it. Sounds cliché doesn't it? That's because it is. And it's pitiful enough for me to advise myself some sappy life lesson that I'm sure will not even pursue. Sigh.

    'If only I'd ran faster.'

    'If only I had kept my mouth shut.'  

    'May be only then, I wouldn't feel so empty right now.'

    'And broken.'

    'And alone.'

    'And lost.'

    These were the thoughts I had on that cold winter night. I still do feel the same, yes, only lighter. The wound is still there but not as deep anymore because I do not intend to be held back by these thoughts forever. Regretting the things I failed to do or what I could have done will not and will never change what had already happened. I have to keep moving forward. I need to let her be the doves and sing among the stars in Neverland. At least, that is what she want me to do and I have to keep my word close to my heart at all times.

    What a horrible way to start an entry, I know. I was never really good a writing introductions. Let's just hope I can write the ending better. Anyway, like I said before, I need to keep moving forward, and I'll start by narrating the events that took the life of one (MY) Wendy 'Darling'.

    Welp, here goes nothing.

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    It was hours afterwards when I found myself weaving hastily through the crowded streets of the city: through the loud chatters of passersby, the constant ringing of phones, and the bickering of cards and buses; an irritating cacophony of the city's night life. I mean, it's the same for the day, but still, irritating. Not to mention the invasive contact of skin and the quick warm breath of the people made it difficult to breathe. Or was it just me? I'm not so sure anymore. What's worse though is that it was so freaking cold. I had nothing but a jacket, a plain shirt, a pair of sweat pants, and sandals on in the middle of November. It was such an embarrassment to be seen in such thin clothing.

    To be honest, I just sort of ran out the door and didn't bother to put on anything else since getting the medicine for Wendy was my top priority at that moment. Besides, it doesn't really matter now, does it? It was always my fault anyway. I got carried away by the heat of the moment and overreacted. We had another argument, well, the same argument actually. It's all she has been saying about over these past few months.

    "Arthur, I don't want to take my medications anymore," she said in a weak frail voice.

    I stood by the bedside table measuring her prescriptions with mouth agape but not entirely. Shell shocked, sure, but seemingly - ok, may be it was obvious- annoyed by the consistency of her pleas.

    "Yet you never do," I replied.

    "I'm sure of it this time," she responded with great confidence.

    "Sigh. Why even what that, Sunshine? If that happens, I'll be lonely for the rest of my days."

    I flashed her a soft wavering smile before she mumbled, "But you don't have to be," her eyes wet with tears. At that moment, I dove in to the edge of the bed and caressed her cheeks as I attempt to stop her from crying.

    With my heart rumbling, my stomach churning, and my smile faltering, I asked, "What's wrong, Darling?"

    "I am! I've caused you nothing but trouble this past year. I'm a burden to you, Arthur. I always have been."

    "What are you saying? No you're not. Never have I thought of you like that," I argued in return.

    "Just look at you. You work 4 hours a days at 3 part-time jobs each and for what? 3 bottles of 'booze' a month that doesn't even seem to work while you struggle to pay the rent. No sleep, no eat, all work; you're basically as dead as me."

    "So, what are you implying?"

    "Forget about me. Think about yourself for once."

    'But we decided this would only be temporary until we can afford for your surgery."

    "Yeah, well, I'm deciding something else now."

    "And I decided we will never speak of this again!" I said with a raised voice.

    Silence enveloped the room. Not one of us dared to utter a word for the moment. But the presence of it was foreboding, and so I spoke, "It's time for your medicine". I grabbed the tray littered with bottle sand cups from the table and placed it between ourselves like a boundary before guiding one of the cups towards her mouth.

    "I don't want to," she pouted.

    Irritated, I said, "Enough is enough, honey. Drink the medicine."

    "No."

    "Drink-"

    "I said no!"

    "Just drink the god-medicine, Wendy," I exclaimed as I shoved her the medicine.

    "NO!"

    Next thing I knew, there was a slap at my wrist and a thump in my lap alongside the clattering of plastic and shattering of glass. It took me a second staring at the pool of chemical splattered on the floor before I processed what had just happened: She shattered her one chance of survival I so desperately worked hard to give her. And then, I broke down into fits...

    "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH I SPENT ON THAT? FOR YOU AND FOR THAT CAD SHIT?"

    "Arthur, I'm-" she stammered.

    "NO, YOU'RE NOT! ALL THIS TIME, YOU'VE ONLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT! WHAT ABOUT WHAT I WANT? ALL I WANTED WAS TO SEE YOU GET BETTER. I WANTED YOU TO LIVE. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, I WANTED TO KEEP LOVING YOU!"

    "WE'RE NOT LIVING IN A FAIRY TALE, ARTHUR. WE'RE NOT IN NEVERLAND LIKE WE ALWAYS BELIEVED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS HAPPILY EVER AND THERE WILL NEVER WILL BE. THERE ARE SOME THINGS THAT ARE JUST MEANT TO BE BROKEN. AND I'M ONE OF THEM. IF YOU TRULY LOVE ME, THEN LET ME GO. WE'RE BOTH SUFFERING IF WE CONTINUE TO LIVE LIKE THIS."

    The thought of such deed struck a chord in my heart which left me speechless once again. But knowing myself, I refuse to accept such fate, and I decided to make sure of it.

    "Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes," I ordered in the most calming voice I could muster at that time.

    "Where do you plan on going?"

    "The pharmacy."

    "In the middle of the night? That's 4 blocks away! You can't be serious!"

    I ignored her nevertheless as I reached for my jacket in the closet, but she held onto my arm before I could do so and pleaded, "Please, Arthur, just stop it already. It's not worth it. It’ll be too late. Please!” However, I just shook her off and went anyway and said, "For you, anything is worth it," because apparently, apathetic is what I am.

    The mere lights of each lamppost illuminated a small portion of the darkened setting against the bright fluorescent lights; guiding me and leading me home. A sudden burst of rain made everything dreamy and hazy. While others went to seek refuge, I dashed across the crosswalk with a bag of necessities, passing door after door. I was completely soaked, but I couldn't care less. I was desperate to return to the apartment. And when I did, she was right. It was too late...I was too late. "Wendy, I'm back," I called out. What I expected to be the woman of my dreams to welcome me home, instead, I found a pale figure drowned in blankets sleeping soundly in our bed, a single piece of paper rested over her hand:

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    And that was the end of it, the end of our supposed to be never-ending story. When the paramedics came, they informed me that she died shortly after I left her from a heart attack due to high blood pressure. It was my fault. Everything was fault. I was the one who ruined everything. But that's beside the point. What matters right now is how I shall move on from such a tragedy.

    Do I call myself a widower now? We haven't actually gotten engaged or anything, I guess not. Would I even learn to love again? It depends on how I see it now. If I would have guess, I once believed wholeheartedly on the concept of forever, yet, I never really understood any of it. But I think I do now; it's a lie. Forever is a beautiful you wished to believe with someone and cherished it together against all odds.

    You know what, may be Wendy and I aren't meant to be forever. May be it was only meant for a lifetime, at least, Wendy's. I still have all the time in world that I can spend loving her. May be I won't end it just yet - or maybe I won't. We'll never know. But when I do, I'm going to tell her all about it in another life.

Signing off,

James Arthur Celestine, Her Peter Pan.

PS. What do you know, I did write a better ending!

[stardustpubs]

A Letter to My Pretense

    Following the events of an unrequited confession, a boy was left devastated to deal with his own heartbreak and idealism. But terms were established shortly afterwards and the pair agreed to remain friends. However, the problem for such scenario is that one must learn to move on as soon as possible while the other must consistently ignore and strike down the former's feelings if they ever wish to close their one-sided chapter or else everything will fall apart. At first, things were going smoothly as the boy had hoped, but months had gone by and the two met once again through fate...and their friends. Even if it was just for a moment or two, memories and emotions immediately came rushing in a deafening blow. It was awkward for sure. It was too hard to act normal when a single memory lingers. Yet, deciding to write a letter to his past love, the boy finally confronted his underlying thoughts and doubts in hopes of rekindling their lost friendship and to finish what he selfishly started. Writing it might not help much, but it's a stepping stone nevertheless.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

Greetings!

Salutations!

To whom it may concern:

Hello, (Yeah, let's just go with that.)

     It's been a while. How long has it been exactly? I'm not so sure anymore. Was it days since we last talked? Weeks since we last seen each other? Or was it 7 months since I confessed to you? I really don't remember anymo- nope, I can't do this. Of course I still remember. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Why would I? I mean, how could I? Everything is so damn complicated; yet; for some odd reason, I just don't know when to quit. I'll admit, this thing between us, or rather with me, I know it should stop because I know it would jeopardize the very foundations of our - shall we, umm- 'amicability' that we've established even before this little mishap. No need to worry though. The blame is all on me. So I should be the one to one to 'fix' whatever it is that need fixing...if it's even possible.

    I guess I have to take back my heart now, not that you actually stole, but more like I threw it at you.

    But still, I don't know. I don't know why I still cling to an elusive dream of you and me. A never-ending story of butterflies and repercussions. It's getting ridiculous. Fantasy, reality, or whatever black magic books have to offer, none of it will procure the heart of the one I desperately desire. The end of the equation will never be 'us'.

    But then again, I am that foolish. I'm a joke hiding behind an ace of spades.

    And to think, with all this knowledge people say I possess and I believe so, I fell victim to the world's most treacherous and simplest of tricks, love.

    Ok, ok, ok. We're getting sidetracked here. This is not the point I wanted to make when I wrote this letter. You know me, I tend to be so melodramatic and sensational at such times. Sorry. Anyway, the point is I'm letting you go...fine, I'm letting you go, slowly. At a pace where I could feel every pain and guilt flushed and ripped apart from my heart, only to come back more in shattered pieces over and over again. Some did managed to be expelled, though, I cannot fathom the amount that weighs less in my heart.

    May be I envy you that's why I just couldn't set myself free from the burden. You accomplished so many things, experiences new adventures, and met countless of people. I was afraid you'll leave and forget me as well. One by one, we marched towards different horizons. I longed for our return, yet, what I found was nothing.

    I know it's for you ask me to do so, for all of you, but please bear in mind I my best here. No need to worry though. I am fine the very least. But fine is a rather simple term, don't you think so? I'm not happy nor content. I am simply surviving every day to see how my future unfolds in an alternative timeline without you. May be then I would be happy at the end. Alone or accompanied, I would be happy nevertheless. May be that's why I couldn't let you go yet. May be it's because I still cling to these emotions to remind me of what I lost and what I found: my happiness.

Sincerely,

Me.

[stardustpubs]

A Game of Anxiety

     Every person has these tiny little voices in their heads that control their sense of direction. Similar to the angel and the devil of one's shoulder which both often fought over the concept of what is right and what is wrong, the heart and the mind experience a similar war everyday: to decide. An entirely differently story about a battle between two polar opposites that can only be settled through a little game called Anxiety. The rules of the game is simple. One, winner takes all. Two, any tactics are allowed. And three, there will be no justice, only dominance and consequences. Don't you wonder who actually wins in the end? Truth or Ideals? Facts or Illusions? Visions or Imagination? Either way, both parties must fight for what they believe is their best next course of action of the person.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

   My heart is a prison and my mind is a fool to play the prisoner. They would always play a little game with blasphemy and doubt. Anxiety as they would call it.

    A game of debate.

    A play on words.

    A match between speeches in which the heart will always appear victorious, but at the same time, utterly defeated.

    The heart has always been selfish and stubborn, unknowingly manipulating other to comply with its impulses. Always repeating the same argument, "We must wait a little longer," or, "We should not give up hope". But hope is what always drove them to insanity. On the other corner, the mind has always been toyed with by the heart. It always refused and it always opposed any words that came from the heart. But that's just it, they were only objections. They weren't actions or decisions; and thus; even after concluding its own logic, it will always oblige to the heart's wishes eventually. In other words, it will always let itself be toyed with.

    Waiting and waiting they did. Sitting patiently under the rule of the day in a shade where only gusts and breezes came to greet them. Minutes had turned to hours and still no one came to meet them; there was nothing waiting for them and nothing to wait but themselves. At this point blasphemy and doubt will join the game. The latter will speak on the mind's behalf to make its thoughts be known to the others while the former, like the heart, believes on the same illusions as forms of their reality.

    'They're not coming.'

    'Yes, they will! They promised months ago.'

    'What are you to them?'

    'A friend.'

    'Do you really think they'll care if you're alone?'

    ‘I-I'm sure of it. They'll be here for me.'

   'What if they don't even want you?'

   ‘I'll do my best to make myself belong.'

   'You do realize you're just forcing yourself into other people's group, right?'

   'No, it's not like that.'

   'It's not when you beg and cling to them like a freaking sloth?'

   'I do not! I am just being...umm.'

   'You're what? Can't think of anything? That's because what I said is true! You're desperate enough to talk as much as possible and always change the subject if you don't like it so that people won't notice your self-proclaimed 'Athazagoraphobia'.'

   'That doesn't matter!'

   'It does matter! It's proof that you are incapable of socializing!'

   'I am capable of such trivial thing!'

   'Stop lying to yourself! Don't you feel sorry for yourself? Don't you feel pathetic to keep forcing yourself into people's lives?'

   They will bicker and wail until they are satisfied with themselves, until they always reach the point to agree to disagree. The game ends with no such winner and both parties will disperse until the next game. Here's the catch though: the concept of time has no value, it is distorted and disoriented in their little world. A single game can last for hours, days, months, or years even. And to think, it will start all over again in just a matter of minutes. It's a viscous cycle of cacophony.

   But it's no big deal. You'll learn to live with it if that ever happens to you...unlike me. I believe for a fact that I will never will. It's one of the things I'm so useless about. Am I really useless? I have no idea. No really did come to save me from these thoughts, so I guess I am.

   But.

   But...umm...if there is some miraculous chance that there will be someone, save me when I say, "I'm fine".

[stardustpubs]

Through Enemy Lines

    You are the newest recruit of one of the most powerful mafia famiglia in the city and somehow, unfortunately for you, your very first mission is to raid and infiltrate an enemy base in accordance to the famiglia’s elaborate plot to maintain power, wreak havoc, seize victory, create order, and probably lead you to your certain doom. It’s not even a week yet and you are already thrown into something big and catastrophic! Lucky you! During this assignment, you tasked to cooperate with your teammates in racing around the facility, taking down the “bad guys” of the bad guys, and blowing things up. That is until it’s not. The table has turned. The hunter now becomes the hunted. It’s not fun to be in the losing side does it? But for certainty, you now must follow and improvise a new plan: kill, survive, escape. It’s not much, but hey, you don’t have much of a choice at the point nor do you have a much better plan. The only question is will it prevail or forsaken you? There’s only one way to find out and you’re not going to like it: through enemy lines.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

    BOOM! CLASH! BANG! CLANG!

   That's all you could hear from the battlefield. You are unfortunately in the middle of a bloody bloody bloodbath. Bullets ricocheting the metallic walls, clouds of smoke waft the air in intoxication, and ashes and dust brims the lungs with adrenaline and exhaustion. With each passing second, countless bodies flood the floor. Large pools of crimson paint the ground and splatter the walls. Collapsed infrastructures of the factory can be seen littered as well along with wrecked machineries and burning rubbles.

   Being the new recruit of one of the most powerful mafia famiglia in the city, The Arcadia Famiglia, this is an entirely new experience for you.  Sure having great marksmanship, agility, and fast reflexes makes the boss deem you as some worth of interest given that your specific set of skills is most impressive, but now you are not so exactly sure if getting yourself killed on your first day on the  job is really worth the money. You agreed to it, obviously; because why not? Being jobless doesn't pay the bills nor does it bring food on the table but at least crime does.

   So here you are now, partially bruised on the shoulder and limping. Armed with just your wits and weapons of choice, you and your group plan to infiltrate an enemy's base of operations like a simple game of capture the flag. Simple, right? WRONG! It requires "disabling" the opposing boss all the while "disarming" the goons and managing to stay alive, IT'S A GRUESOME AND LETHAL GAME!

   BANG! BANG!

   Another volley of bullets fired. You immediately took behind cover just as multiple shots barraged in your direction.

   BANG! BANG! SWOOSH! BOOM!

   A guy beside you, Khesley was his name, dropped dead and now lies on his own pool; bloodshot eyes barely awake and cheek burned. You turned your gaze to elsewhere less gore. 'Just stay alive. Just stay alive. Just stay alive!' you reminded yourself, waiting for the perfect moment to strike a counterblow. As the shots began to slowly cease, you aimed at the enemies and struck them down hard. The few remaining forces retreated to regroup. You and your teammates are left to celebrate this small triumphant victory you have made. And before you proceed any further, you scavenge through the corpses of both sides in search for anything useful. Besides extra bullets and grenades, there were none.

   Down the hallway you go, trying on every door desperately looking for an escape from the footsteps right behind you. Getting louder, getting closer. But somehow, even with fear in control, you couldn't help but notice the figure drooped around the corner. Deciding to inspect further, you creep closer. You are trembling as you do so, each step heavier than the last with gun ready for any surprise; though it serves no purpose.

   To your horror, it was the carcass of your raid leader! He and the other members - who all must be dead at this point - were separated from yours when the plan had been compromised and you were suddenly forced to act out of the shadows. Bullet holes can be seen on his upper torso. Deep cuts all over his now ripped clothes and flesh. Dark blemishes cover his wrist and neck. Limbs twisted in unimaginable angles.  And his face was disoriented to charcoal. It looked like he was he was severely tortured to an untimely death.

   "Quick, through here!" said your ally.

   "NO! WAIT" you warned back.

   But it was too late. In an instant, a surge of flame burst through the door and engulfs your comrade's entire being, screaming in agony and pain before flickering. A second figure emerges. By then, knives were thrown and shots were fired followed by the sounds of bones and metal cracking and denting. Your numbers dwindles little by little until only you remain. The attacker halts and stares at you intently, silently waiting for your next move. As response, you took out your gun and shoot aimlessly because of your trembling state in the face of impending demise. He dodges your assault with ease and smirked similar to the Cheshire cat. 'Easy kill,' you perceived. You attempted to flee, your heart pounding in desperation. But before you could go any further, in one swift movement, your assailant took out his gun and shot your through the brain.    “Tough luck, kiddo,” he snickered.

   Your vision begins to blur as the words briskly replace the world around:

[stardustpubs]

"Stars don't shine, unless they find themselves in gloom"

S.S.K

[stardustpubs]

Believe me when I say I’m surrounded by talented artists yet all I can do is a stickman. This masterpiece is done by my other good friend, Ucchii. It clearly shows how me and our friends - he’s not in the picture, idk why - enjoyed our senior high school days until our last moments together. So many memories and so many emotions in just one picture. This truly is a masterpiece like no other! Ps. I’m the one with Pikachu <3 Pps. Here’s his account, please support him as well  https://www.deviantart.com/ucchiii

[stardustpubs]

They did good. Both Game Freak and the animator. 

baaaah!

[stardustpubs]

My friend, PenGwen is really talented. Lookie! It’s Finn Mertens from Adventure Time! It looks real and 3-dimensional! 

[stardustpubs]

A little low-quality in the pictures but you can clearly see the high quality of talent perfectly fine. Aside from Todoroki and Norman, both are original character designs made by my on-and-off good friend, PenGwen

[stardustpubs]

Sky High

     Dream big, aim high! Dreams don't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination, and hard work to achieve so. Your future ahead will be bright. Failure is not an option and will never will be...it is an outcome. A possible result from a pool of limitless possibilities. You can try anything you can, you can believe anything you want, but success can never be guaranteed. Life is only one big game of chance. Dreams will be crushed, pointless attempts will be made, doubts will surely arise; the portrayal of a fool in the end. But then, you must wonder and ponder - realize: where do you go from now? I mean, there are still yet a lot to choose from. You truly are a fool if you keep living in the past, continuously grieving for the same "mistake” you can never amend. Come and witness my story, my tragedy, as I come in to terms with I lost and what I have found. And maybe you could be the same. Because from what I can see from here, life is also like a question full of different answers from and for different people.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

    A thousand-mile journey starts with a single step. At least, that is all what it takes to reach the end, to reach the peak. To reach your place amongst the stars where society's brightest minds gather, nurture, and dwell. It all seems too easy. But surely, life is nothing what it seems. Nothing is truly easy. It is both unfair and just. The path in which you seek does not wait for you or does it guarantees you. There are others behind you, crowding and impatient.

    Competition begins to arise.

    A race.

    A battlefield...

    …All for the sake of limited slots.

    Whatever it takes; all for himself.

    It's a selfish deed but it was the only way. Everyone here will do anything in order to succeed. Nothing and no one else matters. And there is no other choice but to oblige to the rules.  It is a selfish deed indeed. But can you really blame them?

    This is the starting point!

    The stepping stone!

    This is where everyone can finally make their dream a reality!

    Only the winners can achieve such prize for such ambitions.

    You can stand tall, utterly confident in your abilities with only the slightest hint of anxiety and doubt. You can believe that you are at least more than capable to grasp that chance than anyone else in the room. That is because you had trained for this for months. You can't just give up now and admit defeat. It wouldn't hurt to do so. I mean, you might actually succeed anyway.

   Alack, to your dismay, you finally realize things do not always go to what you had hoped for.  Blinded by the illusion of achievement, you had failed to reach the top. Others had trampled over your spirits and had already surpassed you by a long shot. The confidence you had held on to so dear has crumbled and had fallen back to start along with the countless of others.

    Alike are depressed and frustrated. It hurts that's for sure.

    It feels like the stars have been struck down in your own paradise.

    Burned out.

    Flickering in and out of existence.

    Your golden medallion taken away.

    Snatch.

    Crushed.

    Your fears and doubts were right; may be you aren't just good enough to reach a milestone...at least for the time being. You can be so much more and you just have to realize it. You are a limitless possibility. It's pointless to cry over such a silly game, over a silly phrase! They wasted their chance on you and your potential and so you have to prove it.

    It's a shame really.

    But maybe, just maybe, you belong somewhere else. Somewhere far better.

    With that said, can’t you just turn your back away and walk towards your new found light? A new pavement of your now awakening dream. And until that very day, you must continue to grow and learn and keep moving forward.

[stardustpubs]

Picture Perfect

     Love is an uncanny emotion. Its beauty derives in its complexity. We do not understand it nor do we try to. We don't know. We don't know how. We just know that it is there and feel it thrive underneath; the surge of warmth and the swarm of butterflies. Everything just magically comes into place. You do not get to choose. It happens in the most unexpected time at the most unexpected place to the most unexpected person. But even so, love can either make or break you. Not everything has to be about rainbows and happiness. There will always be the darker side of things. And for someone who had just happened to realized his first love will come to know that as he plans to confessed on graduation night; their last moments, his last chance. Will he break? Will he fall apart? Or will he be someone better worth loving and being loved? Because why not? In the end, you must admit, even tragedies are bound to have some sort of make-shift happy ending.

A/N: Picture does not belong to me and if the original artist is identified, please credit and cite accordingly. Thank you. Source: Pinterest

     There must be some kind of magic at work here because when I looked up, I think I might have seen an angel casted by a halo of light. Gasped by the sight of your maroon-ish attire, your ever-so captivating smile had me enthralled. Enchanted even! But to be honest, meeting you was enchanting enough.

    You let out a heartfelt laugh.

    It almost made my knees fall down from such charisma. Why do you have to be so cute without even trying? Is that even possible? Down here, I can clearly see the way how your eyes flash, how they spark a beam of happiness while you chatter.

    That is until your gaze met mine.

    Now they taunt me to come closer under the mask of confusion. I trembled and I lingered. But I made haste. Snatching the opportunity, I came.

    I sweep you off your feet and lead you to the dance floor. From there, I would intertwine your hand with mine. We would dance underneath the soothing colors, moving in sync to the slow rhythmic melody. You would wrap your arm around me and hold me close, leaving no room for space. Your tender touch makes my heart flutter with delight as we dance our way through the night; starting into each other's eyes, forgetting the fact that this could be our final moments together.

    Everyone would be looking at us with either confusion or disgust. But that won't matter. I will not be fazed.  Because I am only looking at you and you are only looking at me. And as the curtain falls, you would whisper into my ear the words I have been longing to hear.

    But alas, I can only dream.

    The reigns of fate are the ones that hold me by, down to earth when I could have been able to soar. It was pointless for me to ask for such hope. I was never an option. Your eyes longed for somebody else. Your hands crave for another's touch.

    I will never be good enough. That's the reality of it.

    It was a selfish dream and I deeply regret it. But some part of me still wishes to hold onto it even for just a little bit longer.

    Yes, it hurts what happened that night, but I'll be fine.

    Somehow.

    Hopefully.

    Eventually.

    Trust me.

    I just need a little bit of time.

    For now, the stars are falling right in front of me.

    But you know what's funny? In the end, I was finally able to answer the question that had always kept me awake so late at night. I didn't know it back then but now I am sure of it. I am not attracted to nor admire you. It was not some petty crush that soon I could be over with you.

    No.

    Unfortunately fortunate for me, it was already young love blossoming from my brain-wrecking dysfunctional life. You are my first love and I thank you for letting me down slowly. You were not meant to be mine and I was not meant to be yours.

    And that's ok.