They say ghosts aren’t real.

It’s not them wandering around on the surface of earth.

Ghosts are monsters living within us.

Ghosts are preditors feeding on innocense.

Ghosts are us, facading to be something we are not.


The ghosts are the past we left behind, as we hold on to them, they crumble up to pull us back into the darkness.

They clutch us in the strength of their claws. 

While we live, we forget what is real and what is unreal. We give in to our inner ghosts, inner darkness and then hope for someone to rescue us.

Can we be saved from this unreal image that clutch us to our own nightmares?


55 Facts of Song Joong Ki (Part 1)

Still, to celebrate our Joong Ki’s birthday so I collect this. The facts are taken and compiled from some interviews, shows, and events he attend. Check it out! ^_^

1. He was born on September 19th 1985, the year of cow.

2. His blood type : A

3. His height : 178 cm, and weight : 65 kg.

4. He lived in Taejeon before move to Seoul for his career.

5. He became the model in Tei’s sad ballad MV, Poisonous (Wicked) Tongue.

6. When he was small, he don’t like people to call him ‘pretty’. But now, he likes when people call him ‘pretty’.

7. Since before debut, he always put a sunscreen when he goes to play basketball.

8. He likes to sing ballad song and want to play guitar when singing like Bruno Mars.

9. He has an older brother who is very different from him (masculine…

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Songs of Wingless Butterflies: Women in the Eyes of Hardy

Songs of Wingless Butterflies: Women in the Eyes of Hardy

“Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain.”

― Thomas Hardy, The Mayor of Casterbridge.

In this patriarchal society where women has no voice, sometimes I feel like those female characters from the books portrayed by Thomas Hardy. Those females whose eyes are filled with dreams, to whom the world is a mystery and their heart is as pure as a full moon. All they want is their right in the society and a little love and affection. However, they are the ones who are unwanted to the society and are objective to the errors of the society. I am not only the victim to their injustice but also subjected to torture- oppression.
Just as they hide their little dreams in the corner of their mind, accept their fate and get down to face the struggle of life – I cannot do that. I have seen dreams and I have seen them getting fulfilled. Perhaps Hardy wanted to show the society that these soft-hearted girls can also dream. But he himself confined their lives with tragedy. They didn’t only see their dreams getting lost, they saw the chapters from their lives getting erased. To Hardy the moments of their lives were like those sand castles beside the ocean, which break easily with the surge of the ocean waves.
Thomas Hardy, an English novelist and poet who was born in Higher Bockhampton, Dorset on June 2, 1840, reflects a dark naturalistic realism in his works and his characters are haunted with tragic and self-destructive fate. His writings are frequently considered to represent the ache of modernism which is quite clear in Tess of the d’Urbervilles. Hardy contends to suggest the obscurity of time and change and human reason against divine power through family-betrayal, class perceptions, sex and material longing. He uses several naturalist references about Tess that represent earthly ideals through showing how she was abused by the representatives of both high culture and Christianity. Hardy reflects his pessimistic outlook towards civilization, religion and high society as fraudulent influence that eventually corrupts the good and earthy heroin.
Couldn’t Hardy organize their lives differently? Couldn’t he let those heroines see their dreams getting wings of reality? Perhaps, Hardy was dissatisfied and never got for himself what he had wanted. Perhaps, that was why he refrained his imaginary female characters from getting what they wanted. Or he had a dark soul which kept him from giving his characters what they deserved. He might have tried to explain through his works that there was a brutality in the society; a selfishness that echoed through civilization which Thomas Hardy portrayed through these characters. But they also portrayed a reflection of his own dissatisfied heart.
Hardy is the visualization of the thoughts of people of that period and his female characters are ever-present. Whether it is the impersonation of Hardy, or the grudge of his heart, or his realization, would our relinquishment be still now similar to his works of tragedies?

– See more at: http://www.ourtimebd.com/beta/2016/03/06/songs-of-wingless-butterflies-women-in-the-eyes-of-hardy/#sthash.KyhAngDi.dpuf

The way a bullet stabs

My world is simple. I have a family, a few friends, a job and a habit. A habit of loving people unconditionally. Except a few exceptions. It’s not that I don’t love them unwillingly. It’s just that they brought it on themselves. Arguably, they made me not like them. It’s like in Ed edited it. They just edited themselves out my life. It’s not that I’m blaming them, I might be partly at fault too.
But now, my life is dreadful. Every moment that passes makes me look back and think. Think whether it was a good moment or a bad moment. It’s literally another wistful moment. To think. I usually do not give a second thought on anything. That’s how I’ve always functioned. That was what was best for me. It was the only way I knew. But these days not knowing what is going on in other people’s mind is like dealing with backstabbing two-faced people and suddenly these people are all enthusiastic about what I’m on or doing or eating and even shit stuff that I do. Why? Why me?
Ain’t there anyone else in this world? Don’t they have a life to lead? Ain’t there anything more interesting than me?? What I do is completely my business and the things or person that I involve. On serious note, if I am going to shoot a person and murder him, its completely on me. You are NOT going to take a blame. Worse even, you will refuse to even know me. So why, when I’m doing what I want to on everyday basis that you have to start pushing your nose in and keep an eye on me without my knowledge? Why would you judge me with what you see? Who even gives you a right to judge me? If I started to judge you, I swear, you would TERRIBLY want to hide under the ground. And I would dig up and crawl in there to make you more miserable. I swear. I might be naive. I might be weak. I might be a girl with a very bad temper. But what you brought on yourself is completely your fault. I will not take any responsibility of what will happen once I take my thoughts in action.
But it’s easy talking big while your hands are tied. Worst what I could do is figure out the invisible eyes and try to put an end to it. Or let it stay like that until the other side of the party loses interest. Because frankly, I am never a piece of thing that holds attention for long. Eventually they know that there was nothing extraordinary, just a facade that everyone likes to see. Because everyone thinks they are extraordinary when the fact is quite the opposite… I know that for a girl it’s very difficult to be extraordinary. Because they are judged by so many parameters that most people doesn’t even know exists. But haters are going to hate and girls will always be judged. Hence, I will be judged and measured like onions in the market. Like really. Onions. Because people think that girls are the reason for a man’s destruction, like it brings out tears,  girls are the reason a society fall back, like it’s scent that makes us cringe, girls are to be kept in the kitchen, like we put them in there. But what they don’t see is that once the onions are pilled their scent defends themselves, when they are put in a dish they make it’s flavours standout all the way more. Onions are good for our food, onions are even healthy. But when a bee stings, it’s the onion that helps cut the poison. You get my point?
I was talking about how people makes me hate them and how they can’t resist interfering. It’s not that it’s their fault. It’s the way they have always known, always seen and always did. I’m not being rude, it’s just because they are malfunctioned. People’s mind setup is weird. You can never know what is going on inside their skull. Even if you were Sherlock. Because Sherlock makes mistakes too. Sherlock also has typical train of thought. Sherlock also hates people because people are just plain boring.
People cannot resist to pock their nose in because they are always curious about who is messing up big time. People likes to watch other people’s distress, these people in distress watch other people in distress. People watch people go through bad phase, they make it worse by poking their nose in and saying something that ends up making the situation worse. People watch other people having fun and they have to do something in order to spoil the fun. What do they gain from it? Satisfaction. I don’t know how. But they just do. I know I blabber a lot. But even you know that these things are real. People actually do it. They do it for their evil peace of mind or own happiness or maybe for something I can never figure out.
The reason I am saying all these? Nothing. Mental satisfaction. Is my mindset different from theirs? I don’t know but I don’t have fun when I see someone at distress. If I cannot help, I at least try to be considerate or sympathetic. If I see someone having fun, I smile at myself that they are blessed. I know people are hateful but they are also people who stands beside people at the time of great need, these are the people who make up a world that is not only beautiful but also a place I can call home. Some of these people make it look like that everyone is bad. Even for an anti-human like me with lots of flaws myself and two left feet know there are people like Peter Parker or Ciel Phantomhive and there are also people like Magneto or Mojo JoJo. Okay, I did not just pull that name as an example. But anyway, after the storm and spending a lot of time under the bed we finally know that we are also a part of this people. It’s easy to accuse people but it’s also important to know where you stand. It’s also important to know what others think about you.
You can shout to people with the top of your lungs that you don’t care what others think. You can also shout at them that you don’t give a damn. But even for me, I know that somewhere in the back of my mind I will think that people are going to judge. So it’s important to care. It’s important to know what other people are thinking. Because in that way you can put them to stop when they try to point a finger at you. It’s important the table you are serving at should be stainless. Stains put a bad impression, just as a defect in your character puts a bad judgement. Because people are really good at judging and stabbing like a bullet.
So stop for a while. Look on your right and look at your left. You cannot hide in your safe haven. People are staring. Dodge the bullet of their looks, their cruel thoughts and their pointing fingers. Take a deep breathe, take a leap of hope, the trouble you have gone all through the night -the silent cries and hopeless sighs, make them your strength and take a step. A step toward the people, a step with faith, a step to your dream. Let the people know the red lipstick, the messy bun and the oversized sweater is who you are. The jiggling of your bracelet talks for you, that black scarf says how much you love yourself and that Ray Ban sunglasses are a touch of playfulness that you alone stand against all these people. You are a strong, independent woman with a big dream of winning the world. You can jump so high that you can touch the sky. These people will only be green with envy while you can glow like the full moon.
You’re never gonna give up, never gonna stop flying.

Journals : words from my mind

I was skimming through my old journals. Well, reading page by page to remind myself of the life I had once. Of the things I’ve done or gone through. Good thing about journal is that it makes you wonder of what it was like and how you actually felt while you were putting your mind in those pages. While some incidents remind you of a time you never wanted to end, and some lines that make you regret to even have written down. I just thought it will be interesting to share parts of my mind from the pages of my journal; share what I didn’t want anyone to read once upon a time.

“I should be serious but I can’t bring myself to it. I am so much distracted that even if I try, I can’t. I wish miracle happened.”
“It’s one thing to suffer completely being un-fault and wholly other thing to be unloved.”
“I don’t know what’s there it is for me. But whatever, it’s not going to be easy. And I’m not a very ambitious girl…I don’t know if I can stick longer. I just can feel sometimes, you know, that the grip is loosening. I’m scared but I do not do anything. What can I do? I can’t change what I’m going through. I can’t change the people, the time, the environment. All I can do is suffer, get tortured and let a few drop of tears escape.”
“I don’t know why the Almighty created me when He kept all the things to Himself- my brain, my intelligence, my luck, my happiness and just sent my body to this world.”
“I think if the doctors x-rayed my head, they’ll see my inside is empty.”
“Considering the days already passed in the last few weeks- I am completely non-candidate for anything with hugely and greatly importance issues to handle. I mean I can be a good consultant when I grow up- I am at least sure of that. Only fact is that those who are crazy or on the way to be one can come to such an egoistic fool like me.”
“Oh and I’m kind of falling again for Orlando Bloom. He’s so cute…”
“There was that day when somebody asked me if I really knew who I was. ‘Do you know you?’ – such a simple question with major complexity and approximately huge brain-jamming answer.”
“I was watching this movie and there a man says that every story-teller is a liar…”
“Dear diary, how do I keep dreaming that I’m going to be someone from my dreams? I’m useless, hopeless, pathetic, sympathetically a junk.”
“You know what? There’s a man who likes to peep into my room through his bathroom window…”
“I lie, I pretend, I’m rude, I argue, I’m useless…all that I am, and I said it now. Yet I feel like it was for nothing. I don’t feel anything. Free, relieved- nothing. Guess, I wasn’t honest with everything I’ve written in here…but that’s me, right? Not honest.”
“I always envy my sisters. They are intelligent, smart and everyone loves them. They are even beautiful and me- nothing is fine with me. People don’t like me in the first glance. They do not even notice me…they have this personality I don’t, the smartness I can’t have; the beauty I never am…”
“…and my already doomed fate is planning on dooming all over again…”
“Dear diary, I’m terrific. Because someone just told me indirectly that I’m a bitch. That characterless, cheap, mean, selfish, boneless, coward…”
“Sometimes, we have nothing else to do except to help the person we care about- even if it endangers our life. I’m willing to do everything, anything as far as I am able to…”
“I hate myself. I hate what I am. I hate how I am. I hate how I look. I hate my hair. I hate my nose. I hate everything about me. I just completely hate myself.
But then every story-teller is a liar, aren’t they?”
“This is far off limit. There is never going to be peace. At least my life isn’t a chaos or mayhem like Elena’s. But still…”
“…it feels so right and strange to remember all the way we had come, every incident, every moment. They all are treasures, locked securely in my chest…”
“Sometimes it’s not bad to ignore people. Especially who doesn’t care about you. It’s all about being who you really are, not someone you pretend to be. So that’s me and I don’t hide.”
“I don’t know what happens to me sometimes, but I’m always like this- mischievous, clever and naughty. But in an innocent way, of course. I like to charm people, like when they like me…”
“…I don’t talk to mom and to make this World War Minisize 3 Combo really happen, I gotta go to her and start screaming with the top of my lungs. I really hate to do it.”
“My life’s worthless. Every single day of my life sucks…Yet, I’m there- going to bed every night and waking up the next morning. For another meaningless, unwanted, miserable day.”
“Oh diary, life never gives me chances. Then why should I give life a chance?”
“Why is that God has given everything to those who already has everything and nothing to them who really deserves it.”
“I saw him today…”
“Why is real life so complex? I’m so miserable, so, so very miserable that sometimes I think why was it that I was even born? If I had to be so unwanted, so unloved, so uncared for then why do have to God bring me here on earth? Everyone has a specialty in them, why not me? Why am I so similar and not different? Envy them who are different among people, different as in looks, talents, brains. Why am I so common? And so out of luck?”
“Dear diary, days are like unwanted hotdogs…”
“I’m all but doomed. I can’t wait to die.”
“…Do you think I’d ever be the person I think of becoming?”
“I was a kid and didn’t see Chris that way but who knew pizza could be so spicy?!”
“Dear Diary, few hours ago I was this- I’m gonna kill myself on the day I was born. But now the time is passing, the more expectations are increasing. Uncharacteristically, I’m waiting for midnight. I’m planning further, future…”
“But I’m actually realizing reality is tough. Different. Impossible. It’s tormenting yourself when you regret of or not doing something…more tormenting when you’re remembering your happy moments…and again wish if time were stuck right there…could have been happy forever…”
“I really am tired. Tired of expecting and not getting it.”
“But one thing will never change. I will always be the one who will get neglected, unloved. So welcome another year of my life of this pathetic, cruel world. Happy birthday to me.”
“For the sake of my lousy luck and the freaky fate, please help me out! Life sucks…”
“Dear Diary, do you think I’m drunk? Because I sound like I’ve been drugged. Or is it natural in my age to talk like this? You know, all fed up, deserted, lonely, unloved?”
“At last, at last after nearly two months I saw him. Again.”
“Dear Diary, why did it feel like August went like a year and September passed in a day?”
“…You bitch on me? I’ll bitchslap you…”
“All I want to write is some MF’s think that they are all hot and happening but they are so mistaken…”
“You know I saw him today. But today he was in a silver car. I wonder how many cars he’s got. Because at first it was a golden car…then…it was a blue car. Now today it’s a silver car! I don’t know man. Am I supposed to look into every car that will pass me?”
“Our pranks, our happy moments, sad moments, bitter moments…everything that I am today- it all happened in this campus. The campus is our identity, our hangout place, our second home. And now we are to leave.”
“Dear Diary, I met a boy today and he was staring at me like I was something to eat…”
“…why make yourself the reason for others gossip?”
“Everywhere I go, everywhere I am, someone has to be an asshole to me…”
“…his short hair, that nose, those perfect lips, that awesome jaw, those shoulders, his deadly figure, the hot curve of his back…the never-ending legs and the long-pale-never-ending-awesome-fingers…”
“Right now I’m sitting in Chemistry class. He’s talking about D Glucose, the Chem teacher.”
“The winner is Barak Obama. What change is it going to bring? Is America going to change?”
“I saw Robert today. Daah! Not in person obviously- I wish I were that lucky enough. There was a commercial and then I saw him…”
“Dear Diary, I want to get rid of this tension. I want to have fun. I want to laugh. I want to have some real craziness…”
“My performance wasn’t good and I have a feeling that people did not enjoy it…I don’t know. Who the hell cares? I’m failing in physics!”
“…one man in India suicide just to do something out of ordinary on a day like this…”
“Its winter and it’s really cold outside… It’s been such a long time I haven’t seen him…”
“I’m here. Standing. Surviving. Suffering. Suppressing. Solidifying. It’s like gamble.”
“I’ve never seen snowing, no snow-flakes, never made a snowman with snow. I wonder how it’s like to be in snow. Sometimes.”
“Dear Diary, I know I dream big. Bigger. But then if I don’t dream bigger, how would I get the smallest things?”
“I want to hit the jackpot. I’m gambling my honor.”
All I have learned is that life never keeps promises. Going through these pages of my journal, I have once again lived the life I once lived and I know that all that I have faced, all that I have had, all that I could have had but didn’t; are a mere part of what life actually is. I took a selfish pleasure knowing that however my life had been, I used a great many times such that makes me proud. There may be times a few I made mistakes, a few times when I thought of myself useless or even accused people for my difficulties. But I always knew that wasn’t the end of it. That there was more. And every time when I sit to write about my day in my journals and the things that I’ve learned, I know there’s more of life to write about.