hehe.

there's a long moment of silence after onew speaks.

then wooyoung bursts into tears and runs out of the room.

junho lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. doojoon rolls his eyes and sits back into his chair to watch the unfolding drama. seulong bursts into high pitch laughter, which is slightly unsettling; but this is seulong, so everyone ignores him. jonghyun snorts because onew fails at life in general, and things like this prove it.

nichkhun shoots daggers at onew with his eyes. or at least he attempts to, because angry is a very cute look on him. knowing that his glare has no effect on everyone (except to make them swoon), he adopts a wounded expression instead and proceeds to chase after wooyoung.

"what?" onew is still extremely confused. he rubs his left arm self consciously and scans the room with his eyes innocent and wide (as wide as they can go anyway).

"really now. you're a sunbae and all, but you should really think before you speak," junho says, trying hard to keep his tone neutral. he's a little grumpy because he shares a room with wooyoung and if wookhun get into a lovers squabble, all hell breaks loose and junho is on the receiving end of most of the wrath. he glares at onew, who looks more lost than ever. thanks a lot.

"this is not right," onew protests, arms flailing around a little. "i am the sunbae here. in order of who debuted first, i am seniority! you can't gang up on me." he crosses his arms and tries to look stern but the whole effect is somewhat spoiled by him almost tripping falling over backwards.

"nichkhun shi, that girl you were watching a movie with the other day was really pretty," jonghyun mimicks onew mockingly. he shakes his head at his leader and says in that disapproving tone people use for disbehaving five-year olds, "you should've known better."

"what." onew looks like he's about to cry.

seulong is almost hysterical at this point and falls off his chair.

doojoon vows to never touch the water in the dressing rooms of music bank because obviously, there's something in there that makes idols go crazy.

i want.

i wish i could dance under the moonlight.
it seems like such a simple wish but modern day horror stories of axe carryng murderers have cemented fear and paranoia deep into my mind.

i wish i could run barefoot in the rain.
but when it rains here it doesn't drizzle, it dumps entire oceans on you and spices things up with streaks of lightning. a romp in the rain might spell suicide.

sigh. what happened to the simple pleasures in life?

bubble.

i'm not a depressed girl who locks herself in her room and mopes about what ifs and have beens, despite what my posts in here suggest.

its just that i spend most of the day painting this happy mask on my face and at the end of the day it crumbles and i let all my emotions out so i can be happy again the next.

when i'm awake i have a knack of pushing all negative thoughts out of my head and floating around all day in this happy bubble. when the clock hits midnight and i'm lying in bed there's nothing to distract me and so i start thinking. the only way to stop thinking is to release it all out and that's what i do here sometimes.

because typing is like therapy to me. the soft clicking of the keys and the letters appearing ones by one on the screen soothes me. i like how raw it feels.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,’The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

by Pablo Neruda