aloha!
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 adriana a. © 2009 There's not a good poet I know who has not at the beck and call of his memory a vast quantity of poetry that composes his mental library. -Anthony Hecht |
profile
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 My name's Adriana. I don't exactly have a nickname. I'm very variable, sensitive , experience one embarassing event every day, and yet surprisingly mature. Heh. I, along with 186 million other girls in the world, suffer from an inferiority complex. For me, I like to see the beauty in things. I like art. But I'm not all obsessed over it. I like the beauty of it. I have this insane fixation that I will meet my soulmate by chance. Guess I'm not a big believer in slow development. I'm in PRCS's Modern Dance, 3/5. Profiles: Facebook | friendster | |
affiliates
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eemah pavi li atiqah aisyah elly |
hidayat hidayat2 hizan atiyya maliah nadia |
tracy wei chuen zaf priya sally |
qinny mus atin isabel nabila natasha |
dearest friends
links
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blogskinner 2/6♥ 6w♥ site site |
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thanks to:
memories
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Monday, November 9, 2009 @ 11/09/2009 03:12:00 PM
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(SYTYCD season 3 is still the best. Lacey and Kameron's Contemporary to Elisa's "Dancing" is still my fave) (0:43 takes a lot of trust....) You know what? I'm not upset that we decided to cancel the dance. Really, I'm not. If that's the way you're going to treat us, then there's no point putting my friends through the emotional trauma you're oppressing on us. I mean, really, whatever. I'll wait. I'll wait for someone who'll appreciate it. I'll wait for someone who'll say Ohmygod, this girl has talent. I'll wait for someone to fall head over heels for me and never give up. I'll wait for someone who'll never give me up for the world. I'll wait for someone who can dance with me, know my every move, even though we'd just met. Er, okay now what. I'm stuck at home for 2 months. Help, I'm rotting! Urgh. Paris. Argentine Tango. Romance. Passion. Music. Roses. Fields. Flowers. Sunshine. Smell of fresh rain. Dew. Chirp of birds. Lit alleyway. Sound of laughter. Smell of yeast. Sunset. Dribbling of ball. Children. Winding stairs. I run. Run, run run. I cry but no one hears. You stand outside my window, laughing. The sick stench of lust. The sick stench of blood as I push you down. Sirens and honks. The sick splattering of blood. I'm scared. Still shaken. Me: I hate going home when it's dark. Li: Why? Got nothing lah! Me : I got phobiaaaa -.- Li : You kena before meh? I just realized she was talking about ghosts. Because I replied, " No, but I dreamt of it. Loads of times." I wasn't talking about ghosts. I was talking about being..... sexually abused. Ok, nvm. Haha. (the thing i love about argentine tango is the leg interlocking. awesome stuff.) ----------- What do you want? Tell me, what do you really want? Because if it doesn't include me, let me know. Then I can stop waiting for something that's never going to happen. |