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allmylovin
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Name: Stephu
Birthday: 2/3/1988
Interests: Hong Kong, Austin, Tokyo. Skirts, shoes. Food. Movies. Friends. Anthropologie & Marc by Marc Jacobs. Mango & Zara. Instrumentals, Indie, and Trip hop. Piano. Family. Summer & Autumn. Yogurt smoothies, Smiles.
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/1/2003
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| I graduated a while ago!
Kim came to visit me for a few days. :)
I'm listening to Younha right now. Not bad. Supposedly she's Korean, even though she sings Japanese?
I'm leaving for Hong Kong on Thursday.
I bought the most adorable skirt at luxe apothetique. It has a petticoat! I love full skirts.
I'm going to visit my brother tomorrow in Dallas for the weekend.
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| Something tramples on my conscience.
I'm always the one who lets it in, of course. It's my own mistake.
I should learn from it and keep my mouth shut to aim for sainthood, but
for now I only feel guilt. Even if it was just a small thing as causing
discomfort out of my own discomfort.
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| When you're feeling semi-worthless, find someone who loves you.
"You think you're not worth anything? Well you're the only one who decides your
worth. No one can say anyone else is worthless but themselves. And what
defines worth anyway? It's definitely not achievement, and if it was, then
you'd be worth a million bucks. "
Life could be more beautiful if you just opened your eyes.
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Something feels urgent.
All day I worked under this pretense.
Even
as summer looms, I felt as if something else was pushing me on. As if
something inside me urged, "Hurry and do this. Hurry and flood it all
on the canvas." As if there was some urgent need for me to pour my
heart, all of it. To spill it and drown it in the picture, so that I
alone could read it and see myself reflected back in those colors and
and those lines. So that when I was through, and broke out of this
hypnotic trance that you can only find when you have entered your own
world, I would be able to step back and see only myself on the canvas.
We leave our bodies and senses behind in that trance: we abandon
everything in this world to step inside our hearts. But we step in it
blind, and dip our brushes in the source of everything. We let our
hearts paint for us: that's the secret. That's the source of everything.
I
was hoping to find myself. I was hoping that I could trick my heart
into telling me what I'm missing, what I can't get past. What I need.
And something inside was crying out: "You can't stop until you've finished!"
So I went on for three hours,
but I still haven't finished. | | |
| Let's just be dreamers again. ?_?
But I know I would regret it.
It's so hard to tell the difference between
what is real and
what is not.
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