<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/platform.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/14684623?origin\x3dhttp://flyed.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Wednesday, April 06, 2011

When god extends his graceful hand and reaches down to you, you ought to take it, not turn your back away.

Life is a mundane cycle of 'ok' days and bad days.
Can't help against feeling awful and miserable over [miscellaneous] sorrows.
It's a sickening feeling that I can't remedy with a quick outburst of uncontrollable tears and then feel better.
This, it penetrates into your bones like a hypothermia.

Like that scene of the final catharsis, there's laughter and fresh snow, but then the scene switches to that defenseless and ridiculously optimistic girl who remains entrapped in the palms of the sadistic psychopath. Everyone wishes for her safety, she has accepted her circumstance, but no one can rid that horrid oppressive feeling that still lingers overhead.

We're left exposed and vulnerable, heart still raw at the edges, threading gingerly on the temporary calm.

she's not here @

10:54 PM