love
All you need is Love, and Love is all you need.
True Love Is Cultivated Rather Than Born
Let's talk about the true bitterness, this love without the pretence, the ruse, or the romance. Genuine love has the ability to last throughout time by delivering genuine happiness and an enriched everyday existence in which each pair member may grow personally and collectively.
By Author Tushar Sheth4 years ago in Humans
What is Love to you?
They say each person has their own perspective on everything. We each see the world around us differently. It is that way for a reason I think. We are experiencing life through a human body and our spirits each see things from their own point of view.
By Lee Naylor4 years ago in Humans
To the person I thought I loved.
To the person I thought I loved, I don’t understand where you got your entitlement to play with somebody’s emotions, play with their heart. But that's what you look for in people don’t you? You look for the girls with the biggest hearts because you know it’s easy to ruin them. You know they will believe every word you say. At some point they will think you are the greatest person they’ve ever met. Soon they’ll start to think about you, thinking about how a couple hours ago you told her how pretty she looked. Sure, you probably tell that to all the girls, but to her it meant everything. To her it was just one more reason to tell her friends how you were meant to be together. You keep up with this little game because that's all it is to you. But to her it was a future. It was a future filled with those meaningful gazes and sneaky I love you’s. You were the person she saw it all with. All she was waiting for was confirmation of the feelings she saw and felt. But then you start to grow tired of her. Labeling her annoying and clingy, and mocking all her traits that you once told her you loved. She will feel your distance to her not knowing why, but she’ll give you the space she thinks you need. Soon you will miss the attention and go back to her, feelings unknown you go back and forth. One day telling her you can’t live without her then the next she doesn’t even get a glance at her direction. That will become her new normal. The new normal when she goes to bed crying every other night over another mixed signal. You’ll give the same old apologies for blowing her off and she will still forgive you like nothing happened just by saying the words I love you. Her heart will sink time after time after another un responded message. She settles for the love she thought she got from you. And thinking this constant loop of you will never end. But let me tell you, she will grow tired of you.
By Sophia Dorothy4 years ago in Humans
Titanic Tango
Charlie loved to dance. Dancing on board a luxury liner took some practice. One had to learn to shift one’s weight with every pitch and roll of the ship. Now, Charlie found that his years of practicing Yoga asanas were paying off. His reputation as a dance partner spread quickly, especially among the older women.
By Shamsuddin Jim Norton+*4 years ago in Humans
What You're Supposed To Do When You Mess Up On The Date
We aren’t perfect. We make mistakes, and those mistakes make us human. When you’re on a date, you can’t help but be nervous. You want things to go smoothly, but your first date jitters are getting the best of you. You need to pause and breathe. No one is expecting you to be perfect and be a complete angel. Of course, you will make mistakes here and there.
By Florence Williamson4 years ago in Humans
5 Reasons Filipino Women Are NOT After YOUR Wealth
There are prejudices that come along with a scenario when people see a Filipina going out with a rich-looking foreign man. One of the prejudices is that Filipino women are allegedly just after these men’s wealth.
By Lorraine Villorejo 4 years ago in Humans
The Barber's Pole
The Mayfair was as halcyon as the dulcet sounds she made. Navigating all her grandness onwards and outwards to New York. However, there could be heard a less melodic sound emanating from E-deck. A violent groan, from one Mr Cormac Martin. Throttling his body in his underwhelming bunk bed. He was a disturbed sleeper. He always seemed somewhat unhappy. As though something was missing. Only changing his expression when he seemed to be mocking an imaginary opponent in his sleep. As his nose twitched and his eyelids fluttered in R.E.M, a weak sort of gasping was also coming from outside cabin 44's porthole. Cormac had just begun to enjoy this tempestuous tirade involving belittling the galley maid's daughter. His nostrils flared and twitched tossing his head back and fro. His eyelids snapped open. His countenance was one of rage. Holding his breath he pawed for his pocket watch from his meagre bedside table. The top bunks did not offer such luxuries. The men had to keep their goods under their mattresses. Not I thought Cormac. Hardship was for the plebs. He always made sure to look after number one. As the watch face slipped he snatched for the leather fob. He still had the reflexes of a star-nosed mole and he was as shrewd as a fox but he was in no mood to bask in his superpowers. The time was 1420 and he began duty at 1600 hours. He felt the swell underneath him. Interrupted again by a series of three klee's - klee, klee, klee. Barely audible but enough to have interrupted his sleep. This bird call sounded raspier than it should be. He sat upright rubbing his face and clearing his trachea. He smoothed down his wiry hair managing to catch his fingernail. "Oh, you Bastard!" He shook his hand as if to shake away the pain. On investigation he had torn the nail off and was exposing a salmon coloured cuticle. He winced. Out his porthole, he could see, of all things, a kestrel. The kestrel was perched ominously on the handrails. A strange sight to behold. He thought about the logistics of that bird landing on this very ship. He smiled and turned back to undertake the task of dressing himself. Wearing his uniform made him feel the man that he really was. He had managed to cast aside his relatives years ago. They were as poor and stupid church mice. He had detested his family for as long as he could remember. Instead making a pact with himself to do whatever it took to get out of Greystones. When he was 15 his neighbour's cousin was visiting for the summer break. As they fished on the docks as a necessity rather than for recreation. The cousin divulged to Cormac how he was going to sit an entry exam in three days time at the Merchant college of Dublin to land a job in the navy. Callum - that young boy drowned the next day. Cause of death was drowning but it never made sense to his mum and dad because he was like a fish. A very experienced and strong swimmer. Cormac explained to the Mum and Dad that port is illusory and actually the current there is arduous and how he had done his best to warn Callum. But Callum didn't seem to want to listen. His parents were touched at this young boy's empathy. They made him a pole bearer and still write to him to him this day. The neighbour stopped playing with him but that didn't bother Cormac as he was outta there anyway. He passed the exams and began his internship that same year. Cormac realized he has them and Callum to thank for sitting those exams that summer. By the way, not everyone can pass those entry exams you know? They're not for simpletons. You have to be purrity smart, nodding his head. Cormac slipped his nightshirt over his head and admired his shoulders and then in a very orderly fashion he laid all of his night garb out onto his bed. He donned his fish tail woolen uniform pants. Put on his under shirt, cuffs, collar and tightened his braces. He kept his undergarments on. There was very little fresh water on board Titanic. Washing clothes was just not a thing. Although first class had the privelege of course of having their servants or stewards press and clean their attire. He slid his oxford shoes on and his double breasted coat came down, fastening his brass buttons. Last but not least, his favourite piece of uniform- his visor hat. Worn ever so proudly with the golden oak leaf. He secured his pocket watch to his vest. Picked up his tobaccy stash, pipe and his silver match tin. The only tangable memento to his father. To this day he never knew what became of him. People had their theories. The memory he had of him was his Daddy walking down the lane, away from their humble dwelling. Cormac smirked and said aloud "clever prick really."
By Unique Monique4 years ago in Humans
