<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7247510412543276957\x26blogName\x3dEmbrace+the+sOjOurn\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://thesovereigngarden.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://thesovereigngarden.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-3060144441445346449', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>


Casino Spiele

My Tw|t Garden
Sunday, January 13, 2013

So we add some love to the cup everyday and see it blossom into something beautiful.

What if some love was taken from the cup everyday?

The flower of love gradually withers and die, never to see daylight ever again.

I am never a selfish person; I could never understand how these people live their lives.

How microscopic their views of the world are, how incapable of unpretentious love.

These people literally eat their lives away with repetitive rejection of basic human interaction; the kind that makes love blossom.

Then subsequently people around them give up trying; and they'd blame these people for giving up.

How then, could anyone understand the anguish of the trying parties?

Having to face; time and again, rejection and unloving retorts?

When it's time to let go; let go.

How difficult could it be?

No one but the people involved know.

Painful, prolonged, bitter and sad.

But at the end of this long, long journey, these people can proudly say that they did their best.

No regrets.

I stared at my daughter for the longest time when she was asleep this evening.

If I had never decided to try after what has happened, she, and Ian, would never have the opportunity to call me mummy.

Yet because of their presence, my decision has been time and again, delayed.

How can I possibly do this?

I really don't know.

I try to act brave. Tough. Heartless even.

At the end of the painful day, I'm just a broken, terrified damsel waiting for someone to rescue me.

Someone who'll never come.

This I'm certain.


The cup is empty.

Emptied by the one single person who matters.