The myths are true

When I was younger, I was told that the world is a scary place. I was told that prince charming doesn’t live here, and I was told that the bad people have the nicest face. I was told that the best people live in the underground, and I was told that nothing comes for free. There is always a price to pay, and I was told that life is hard; if it’s not, it’s not the truth. But then, I was told that I gotta be harder than how hard the real world is. I was told that if the world is a dirty place, then play dirty--but always use the antiseptic. I was told that if someone act like a bitch, I gotta let them know that they are actually facing their queen. I was told that I gotta be stronger than a lioness. I was told that the world is an enormous stage and it’s a masquerade party we’re living in. And my only regret was, I’m sorry the myths are true.

the boy with the freckles oh so perfect

Meet Eddie Redmayne from London. Burberry model slash avant-garde turn commercial actor slash Old Etonian.

Who's the boy you like the most?

Lost in Translation

I wanna go back to the time when everything was meant to be perfect. When having crushes couldn't hurt so much—and fun, in fact. When having cliques was quiet understandable (because let's face it, not everyone can have the same vision, the same personality, the same sense of humor... the same thought). When frenemies aren't so fond of making schemes among each other. When the only thing girls learn from Blair Waldorf was the ladylike style, not so much with personality. When going to parties every weekend is the best reason to dress up and looking pretty. When I get to enjoy chic evenings with dessert in a cool place while reading my favorite magazine with the people I really like without feeling like such a cliché. When loving something that's not commercial was not called 'hipster'. When people haven't changed my perspective towards luxury and the stuffs I genuinely love. When shopping was so interesting, more than stalking your crush's Facebook account. When GPA were merely three strange letters no one cares about. When no one gives a fuck about career. About future. Or when I don't feel so tired at weekends. When my eyes don't look so bleary all the time because I miss my old life.

I can't remember the last time I feel that way.

Pardon My French

Such a teenager that I am, I'm sorry for being rather rude and offensive lately. I'm sorry for making you hear my French, I didn't mean to make your life seem like a sexless, potless and therefore lame, episode of Skins. I'm so sorry. You were right. Hate in my heart is gonna consume me too. And the cure to hate is probably... growing up, and realizing that not everything will work out the way I want it to be, that such a happy, smooth life was just a theory, because I read too many fairy tales and watch too many romantic comedies. Short story, I've been such a fool for believing in genuine lies. So thank you for sticking up with me. I love you, perhaps bigger than how much you love me.