Marguerite is.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Príncipe que encanta dos

I have this certain peculiarity that every time I feel my chest throbbing, breaking down is not a distance away from my heart.

My heart struggles with that sentiment tonight, that is why I write.

My chest throbs. Every intensity of restlesness it gives matches every single time I disguise my discontent. I continue to walk, to laugh and to feel - but all those are folly. Somehow my transparancy allows my frustration to seethe, giving weight in deciphering my disposition.

I suffer because my love is going unrecognized. I suffer because I am unable to impose my own rules.

Salt water starts lining the windows of my soul. Any minute from now my feelings will form an array, and after which, I will be free from all these nonsense.

I soon shall forget the paths, the mountains, and the castle of my dreams - the dreams I had for my prince & I, that will never ever come true.

Jewels fall one after the other, as all of my defeats line up to be at last unleashed. May my tears dry just as fast and as far, far from my heart and sight, that my love might never know that one day I wept for him.
Still, a gloomy air circles me, and I have never been this anticipated to once more embrace bliss.

But how can I not recall those scenes? Those little etches playing in my mind of myself, my prince and our forever.

I wasn't going to be the princess in that fairytale after all.

Imagination feels so much better.

Dragon fireblows could have harmed me less, but Prince Charmings are so the sweetest things.

I am still caged with emotions that I never want to be associated with. Welcome to reality. Yeah I know, right? It bites.

fetched at 9:33 PM

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