A song may be delicate or forceful, changing swiftly from a crescendo
to a diminuendo
, laced with many articulations and beats, a touch of dolce
or perhaps a little sforzando
– whichever the case may be, each is different, unique, expressed through various notes and lyrics as its significance echoes throughout every fiber of one's being. Music is an art, and it tells stories where words fall short.
Perhaps that's why I love to hover my fingertips over keys of black and white. It's the only way I can express my unspoken words; not because I can't, but because I choose not to. Because in a world without words, blackmail and white lies don't exist. In this world, there's only black and white, void of hues of grey, easily differentiated.
In this world, my world
, I sing all my songs for you. I dedicate them to you alone. So, please, listen only to me. Look only at me
A man is not someone who builds walls to hide behind as a shell of protection and comfort, but rather a person who knows that tearing down those walls is the very thing that is required of him.
A man is not someone who suppresses all signs of emotion for fear of being deemed weak, but rather a person who is unafraid to display grief or openly cry when a moment is so taxing on the human heart that it demands for it.
Refusing to feel is not a symbol of strength, but instead a reflection of how scared you are of confronting reality that you'd rather pretend things don't exist and opt for denial. Masculinity is not measured in such childish terms. Until you are fully conscious of this, you remain an emotionally stunted boy not yet ready to become a man.
One of the rare het pairings I like - Xerxes and Sharon are so cute together ♥♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
He's a man utterly unbefitting to be in the company of a noble lady. She's a girl utterly unbefitting to be in the company of a mass murderer. Yet she extended her hand towards him, and he took it.
Her hand is small – the skin pale and smooth, like porcelain – but pulsing with warmth when he wraps his own hand around hers. He feels the warmth spreading like wildfire and the sensation is maddening and addictive. He tightens his grip, but not too rough, because he knows he must be careful with this porcelain hand. For it belongs to a porcelain girl that had been entrusted to his care, so he must never let her break.
She's not suited for him, he knows. She's born to wear elaborate, elegant dresses with trims that dangle dangerously near her feet, but she never stumbles, never falls. She's raised for quiet afternoons in a garden full of roses and lilacs with a tea cup clutched in her hands. She's born and raised to be what she is, the picture of a perfect young lady.
However – he chuckles – he knows that picture is flawed. He knows the perfect young lady has flaws of her own. He's seen her slip out of her porcelain shell many times – she'd yell, scream, fall down and cry in a completely unladylike manner – and only he knows the little girl beneath the porcelain doll. And always, he'll be there to soothe her, comfort her, and slip the ladylike covering back onto her shoulders.
He's utterly unbefitting to be her servant, trusted and depended upon. She's utterly unbefitting to be his lady, precious and protected. But hand in hand, they walk together, away from the whisperings of a social crowd. Time lies crumpled in their path, and he crosses it with one stride, then carefully lifts her up to step across it – faces flash by, faces of dear family and close friends, and still they walk while the lights along their path are dimming.
The two, lady and servant, are wrapped in dull darkness and they wouldn't want it any other way. Her warmth still radiates from where their fingers are entwined and he knows she's smiling as she lifts her face up to him. He lowers himself onto his knees, bending to kiss her hand like a gentleman would, though they both know he's no such thing. And then they continue to walk, hand in hand.
He's always with her, watches over her, watching to make sure no cracks appear in her porcelain shell, because if she breaks, he surely would too.
Everything fades and everything breaks, and you never really do know why, do you? You sit there and try to analyze what went wrong, what you could have done. Except there's so many things to choose from that you don't know where to start, and you don't even think you really want to know where to start. Because starting means remembering, and remembering means thinking, and thinking means knowing who's to blame. And knowing who's to blame means you have to admit it. Admit that it's all your fault
But you analyze anyway, because you can't help it. Because you're obsessing, even as you tell yourself not to, about the why's and the where for's and the did not's. Because he was there, he had always been there, and now he's not, and you still can't wrap your brain around that fact. Because there's nothing else to do, nothing else you can do, now that he's not here.
Everything fades, and now he's faded away. He's no longer here, with you, by your side – you know why and yet you're still sitting there.♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
It's one of those random emo times that strike me without prior notice. And then I sit back and realise how much this can be related to Vincent's musings - and I think I'm scaring myself. Aha.
A new chapter of Pandora Hearts was just released! Retrace 45 is centered around the Nightray - more of Gilbert, Vincent, and tsundere Elliot - which is made of total win. I realise I've been fangirling this fandom way too much, and I blame frenetic
And on a side note, the anime was a complete letdown. :(♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
He kills. He kills easily. He kills without hesitation and without remorse. They say he's lost all sense of compassion – that might be true if what he did was uncalled for, if what he did wasn't the effect of some cause that not many people knew about – but they're wrong. They say he's not in touch with his emotions, that he's confused – that might be true if innocent people were involved – but they're wrong. They say he's insane. But he's not. Sometimes he thinks he's the only sane one in the world.
And so he kills. He kills too easily. He kills because he doesn't understand, nor does he care to, why they can't see that he's no worse than any of them, why they can't see that he's willing to take measures that they won't. He's just honest, and he loves his brother very much. All it took was a push of a door, and he killed everyone he hated and save the only one who mattered. Thousands died for one, hundred years had gone by for one – but they were sacrifices he was willing to make.
Vincent would sacrifice everything for the only one that mattered to him.
Try to remember how delightful it was to smile at strangers, to play freely in the fields, to live free of danger. Try to remember having no responsibility, no expectation and every day was bright and new. As we age and grow, we seem to have lost the simple things in life which give us simple pleasures.
Youth is a misplaced thing in the world. It disappears well before it has established itself and well before we can come to any appreciation of it. When we were young, we had the freedom of genuine innocence that's impossible to recapture now.♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
I miss my childhood, where the hardest decision was picking a crayon.
I've been writing again. More Pandora Hearts. Specifically, more of Gilbert and Vincent! So much love for the Nightray brothers. It's not yaoi or anything - I just like the relationship between them, of Vincent's twisted love and Gilbert's selfish whims. And spoilers ahead, regarding the truth behind the Tragedy of Sablier.
Again, dedicated to frenetic
♥♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Vincent loves his brother. Loves him so, so much – enough to bring forth the destruction of a whole city. Of course it wasn't on purpose, not really. It wasn't his fault. It really wasn't.
It was all them. They did it. The shadows in red. The evil man with his cold, emotionless eyes. The little girl with a sweet face but spiteful tongue. He hated her. She was fake and nasty – she caused Gil to make that
expression again, placed a frown on Jack's face, and made them turn away from him. He hated her so much. He hates her still. I heard your brother was killed by Glen
, the little girl said, looking down from her high tower. But it's really a pity.
No more – he didn't want to hear any more! But with a sickening smile, she continued. The person whose body is taken by Glen, will one day have their soul swallowed!
Her cynical laughter echoed in his mind and then he couldn't take it any longer.
Tiny fingers clenched around a pair of scissors and plush fell down on the ground, stuffing scattered. Hate hate hate. Hate her. Hate them all. All that tried to hurt his Gil. Yes, it had just been about Gil. It's always been about Gil. Loving and protective in a time of hatred. The sun in his darkness. The only one who ever cared. The one who knew that he would ruin everything, but still cradled him in warm arms. And in return, Vincent loved him dearly.
Yes, everything wasn't his fault. It had never been. The little girl with the foul mouth was nasty, the shadows in red had taken Gil away and the evil man had tried to kill Gil. So he had to do what every loving brother would do, and he did just that. He had saved his brother, with a simple push of a door – and Sablier fell.
But that incident was of no importance to him. No, he isn't concerned that the land sank into the Abyss. He isn't hurt that thousands died. He doesn't even care that hundred years were taken from him. And the thought of the little girl falling into the dark rabbit's hole even brings laughter into his room as he reaches for scissors and brings it heavily upon a plush – and then he hears it – a sharp intake of breath, and his mismatched eyes looks up only to find the golden ones of his brother. He smiles but Gil looks shocked. And slowly, he lays down his scissors beside a headless toy rabbit.
If only Gil knew. Then it won't be shock on his face, but disgust, anger, hatred
. But Gil doesn't know. He musn't
. And though it hurts so much, he's glad that Gil can't remember the past, can't remember that day
. It hurts, because the Gil now doesn't love him as much as the Gil in the past. It hurts, because the person Gil seeks and protects now is a mere brat of the hateful Vessalius family and not him. It hurts, because it makes him fear that perhaps his brother had never loved him as much as he did and never needed him as much as he did.
It really hurts. But Gil can never know.You have something important that you're hiding from me, don't you?
Gil always says.
And his answer is always the same. Nope, I will never lie to Gil.
They say a guy and a girl can be just friends,
But at one point or another, they will fall for each other —
Maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe forever.
Have you given your loved ones a kiss today?
Okay. I got a good night's sleep and it's time to put depressing thoughts aside by engaging in writing! I haven't written in an entire year or more but I've recently discovered the awesomeness that is Pandora Hearts (yes, I'm that
outdated, people) and naturally, I'd be attracted to the Nightray brothers. Seriously, how can one not like the chaotic relationship between crazy and emo? So, yes, here's a random scribble on brotherly love!
Dedicated to frenetic
♥♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
It's the way his brother says he loves him that sends shivers up Gilbert's spine - he'd gotten used those three words long ago, echoing in his mind whenever a small child with mismatched eyes showed up with a flash of scissors and falling stuffing. It was that sound, that sight
, that never failed to make Gilbert wrap his arms around him, ensuring warmth and offering security. After all, he knew that sound all too well. It was the sound Vincent made whenever he was angry-- no, lonely
. And the only way to make him stop is to do just that, hold him tight and whisper promises of never letting go.
But Gilbert knows, even though he denies, that he failed to do so. He failed to never let go
. He knows, because the small, insecure child who used to shiver and cry in his arms was no more. He doesn't know how or why-- or more precisely, perhaps he doesn't want
to. Because the difference is too great, too much despite the large gap between his memories. Because now, in front of him, is a boy whose hesitant, sweet voice had evolved into dark whispers that speak of lies and tragedies and twisted fairytales, and those lips–- yes, those lips that hid a beautiful, innocent smile Gilbert used to cherish – now curl into a devilish smirk that tugged painfully at his heart. Yes - innocence
- that is where the difference lies.
And whenever night drapes the sky, Gilbert closes his eyes, curls in his bed, and hopes for a tomorrow where he isn't greeted by a smile void of innocence and a touch so cold it burns. It hurts, because it reminds him of how truly
useless he really is to have failed the one person bonded to him, deeper than blood, longer than a hundred years. But as much as Gilbert hopes, this is no nightmare. His retribution is long and crude - even now he can see it all happening behind his closed eyelids, haunting his every dream. That is what the Abyss is - casting its hand upon their memories, the nightmares become the truth, and the dreams remain as they are.
O--kay. So I haven't been around much thanks to the entity called university that had literally kept me busy all year round. Sorry again, my lovelies! ♥
And now that I'm playing catch-up, I come across all these news about DBSK - the split between JaeChunSu and HoMin against SM - and wow. Just wow. At first I thought dbsg
was just blowing things out of proportions because, well, they tend to do just that. That's why I don't really visit the comm anymore, but that's pretty much the main source of DBSK news so I've got no choice. :x
I just can't believe I missed so much, though I can't really say I'm unhappy since I'd be way happier not knowing that anyways. I don't even want to discuss about the details since I'm sure most of you already know. It just hurts to see them all like that. Because even if the whole ordeal has blown over for now
, and even if they act
as if nothing has happened on screen, I doubt that the family is and will be the same as it was before given that they're under different terms and contracts now. They're even doing individual activities or grouped ones but ultimately, not as a whole. And then there's the thing about their contract with Japan's AVEX and-- really, I'm better off not knowing all this.
They're performers. Why can't they just do that - perform? Why do things get so complicated?
The following excerpt just makes it even worse:-[full article can be found at DBSKer]"Just sometime ago, in Japan TVXQ attended NHK's year-end award festival Kouhaku Uta Gassen as five members for the first time, however the three members, whose provisional disposition application to terminate exclusive contract against SM Entertainment was accepted by the Korea court as the issue of court injunction, seem to be more passionate in the performance and there was an unseen tense and emotional conflict with the remaining two members that makes the current situation impossible to predict.
...This is really depressing. I think I'm going to bed now.
P.S. I'm happy that they're trying to diversify and pursue different activities - Changmin with his upcoming drama, Junsu in a musical, Yunho already did a drama, and I'm not sure what Jaejoong and Yoochun are up to but I'm pretty sure they're not free - I'm happy for them, I really am, and seeing their solo works gain popularity brings a smile to my face, but the DBSK fangirl in me would like to see them together
P.S.S. And in the midst of all this, I kinda lost my passion for them. I still like them and all (obviously, since I dedicated a long-ish post to them) but I think I lost interest in their performances? Maybe it's because I don't see the energy from them anymore. Or maybe because I don't like the new direction of their songs. Or... I don't know how to describe it, really. But even after I got my hands on shiny new Secret Code concert and AADBSK3, I don't even feel like watching them. They're still wrapped and gathering dust at the side of my table. Hmm.