There’s so much more about this smile. You just don’t know. This is the web portal of a fifteen-year-old feline who grew whiskers and paws. As much as she loves dwelling in her solemn, gloomy little own world – she is also thought to be a nonsensical and ill-mannered child who eats anything but food.
Yo. It’s Rachee.
Rachelle Angeli B. Marañon for short. HAHA. I love purple. I accept friends and comments. I laugh, I love, I shop, I cry. I do everything I want; I’m still young, wild and free. I know my boundaries, mistakes and flaws. I spill secrets. I’m bubbly. I’m not aiming for the perfect me but the better me. I do what’s right or maybe wrong, but I still make of it. I laugh at myself if I did something silly. I can control my temper and everything that should be controlled. Everyone knows that life is crazy but wonderful. It can be unfair, but not at all times. I can be your worst enemy or best friend. I am weird, but not that simple. I have realized something that I should have been realizing earlier, still seeking for true friends and for my knight in shining armour. Patiently waiting and I wish they’ll come sooner or later. I don’t believe at love at first sight, nor at times even at true love. Everyone has an individual ability to make a person happy, and I can make you happy, but sometimes I can make you cry. Some people hate me but I don’t mind them because they’re insecure. I take many pictures. I had swollen my pride; my past memories are still treasured. You are welcome in my heart and I swore I won’t forget you. Keep that curve on your face; keep smiling!
But sometimes it’s those things you can’t touch that you need to hold on to the most.
I think she was afraid to love sometimes. I think it scared her. She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it is. I think that’s why she always struggled with God. And I think that’s why she also struggled with love. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t hold on to it and make sure it never changed. But sometimes it’s those things you can’t touch that you need to hold on to the most.
4/06/2013
4/06/2013
You deserve compassion and kindness
The fact that you’re struggling doesn’t make you a burden. It doesn’t make you unlovable or undesirable or undeserving of care. It doesn’t make you too much or too sensitive or too needy. It makes you human. Everyone struggles. Everyone has a difficult time coping, and at times, we all fall apart. During these times, we aren’t always easy to be around — and that’s okay. No one is easy to be around one hundred percent of the time. Yes, you may sometimes be unpleasant or difficult. And yes, you may sometimes do or say things that make the people around you feel helpless or sad. But those things aren’t all of who you are and they certainly don’t discount your worth as a human being. The truth is that you can be struggling and still be loved. You can be difficult and still be cared for. You can be less than perfect, and still be deserving of compassion and kindness.
12/18/2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
12/18/2012
TO BE LOVED, JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.
Let someone love you just the way you are – as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.
10/25/2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
10/25/2012
Time would make it easier
The morning brought with it, if not a brighter outlook, at least a measure of control, and some acceptance. Instinctively, I knew that the new tear in my heart would always ache. That was just going to be a part of me now. Time would make it easier—that’s what everyone always said.
10/12/2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
10/12/2012
What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.
Sometimes you have to be strong for yourself. You have to know that you`re a good person and a good friend. What`s meant to be will end up good and what`s not - won`t. Love is worth fighting for, but sometimes you can`t be the only one fighting. At times, people need to fight for you. If they don`t, you just have to move on and realize what you gave them was more than they were willing to give you. Hopefully, people realize great things when they come around and don`t lose something real. Always fight, until you can`t anymore, and then be fought for.
9/22/2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
9/22/2012
WHAT LOVE SHOULDN’T FEEL LIKE
Love shouldn’t feel circumstantial. It shouldn’t feel as if I love you more than you love me or vice versa. There shouldn’t be conditions, levels or lesser degrees of love. If there are then whatever you’re feeling is something else. Maybe lust, maybe like, maybe comfort – but certainly not love. The effort shouldn’t be one-sided; all of the little things can’t come from one contributor; and if you hurt, your companion should as well.
Love shouldn’t make someone feel like a bother. We shouldn’t be able to empathize with a pesky gnat at a picnic, being shooed away. Love shouldn’t be treated like hard labor, and it shouldn’t feel like it either. It shouldn’t make us sad more often than happy, or lead to bad times outweighing the good.
Love shouldn’t consist of waiting around to hear from the person you care infinitely about.That’s the worst. Sitting by your phone, waiting on pins and needles for something –anything from them. The phone might vibrate, but it’s beyond disappointing when it turns out to be a text from somebody else. It aches your heart to know that they’re somewhere out there, completely unfazed by your absence. We can convince ourselves that the subpar phone service failed to deliver our lover’s text, or prevented their call – but we know the chances of that are slim. And sure, we could just contact them, but when you initiate conversations regularly, it’d be nice to have that attention reciprocated. Love shouldn’t feel like being wide-awake until 3am; wishing, hoping, praying for a measly phone call from the one you adore.
Love shouldn’t keep notes on every blunder ever made. When a mistake occurs, retaliation should never be a thought. The pain felt by your companion’s mistake shouldn’t make you want to get even. If you know how much it hurt you, why would you want the one you love to experience that same agony? Those feelings are poisonous. A desire to exact revenge or document every error is a surefire sign that you’re involved in something other than love. Instead you’ve got yourself a contaminated, breakable link that the Grim Reaper of Love is ominously stalking – preparing for its imminent death.
Love shouldn’t feel like uncertainty. It shouldn’t feel like a battle. It shouldn’t feel like a tug of war, with two people trying to make the other “love” them more. Maybe you’ve mistaken your physical infatuation, or crush at a time of vulnerability for love. Those things are flimsy. Those feelings are fragile. The first storm will either demolish those relationships, or leave enough water damage to rust and wither them away.
Love shouldn’t feel hopeless, because it’s never is. In love, a pair can be down, but never knocked out. Love should make all things possible, even if they aren’t necessarily looking good today. If I love you and you love me, we will prevail – but if we don’t, we won’t. Love shouldn’t feel like we won’t.
8/18/2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
8/18/2012
Dear You and You and You and You and You….
I hate it when you tell me that you don’t think you’re beautiful.
“But I’ve gained a lot of weight.” “And there’s a constellation on my face.” “The eye bags make me look old.” “I don’t know how but I think I’ve let myself go.”
Stop for a minute.
Turn to that critical voice in your head and tell it stick its harsh opinions where the sun don’t shine. Because those labels become chains that keep you trapped in the dark. And, deep down, you know better. Deep down, there’s a window in your soul that seeks to believe that you were meant for more. That you were meant for wide open spaces where the light always lingers . Keep that window open for one minute longer.
Because that feeling at the pit of your stomach that you can’t seem to shake off, that killer instinct, that flickering hope — they’re all true.
How different would your life be if you actually believed the voice that you’ve been trying to resist all along? The one that says: “You are a miracle. Proceed accordingly.” Whether you choose to silence it, fear it, run from it or ignore it, you can’t stop me from standing on this metaphorical mountain, screaming the truth from every conceivable peak:
YOU ARE A MASTERPIECE.
Take those eyes, for example. Those eyes that you say are too squinty, too big, too small, too far apart; too black, too dull, too droopy, too weak, too odd.
However they look, they’ve watched a thousand sunrises. They’ve seen couples kiss at weddings. Those eyes have beheld incredible goodness, witnessed the amazing triumphs of the human spirit, caught glimpses of beauty at its most unencumbered. Those eyes have cried every time it felt the jagged edges of the world pierce your heart. Have cried over death and loss and betrayal but also, joy, surprise and gratitude. Those eyes have marveled. Have seen everyday wonders like the sunshine peeking through after days of dark rain clouds. Those eyes have seen colors that no palette could ever physically translate and those eyes will see things in this lifetime that might even put the word ‘miracle’ to shame.
Or your body. The body you constantly lambast for being ugly. Ugly because it doesn’t match the standard the world’s held up against you. Ugly because it curves in the wrong places, is too wide, too narrow, too short, too tall — when are you going to realize that you can’t have it all? You can’t and you don’t need to. Because that body was never meant to fit into someone’s small, simplistic notions. That body was made to tell stories. Was made for movements and revolutions, made with the capacity to say so much without saying anything at all. Your body is your vehicle for adventure, your translator for when love desperately needs to be felt. And however it’s packaged, whatever quirks it comes with, it is fully equipped to do what it was always made to do: to tell the story of you as beautifully as possible. If you let it.
And that face. I love that face because it is the permanent residence of your beautiful smile. Your smile that tells me the world’s going to be okay when everything around has fallen to pieces. Tells me as I stand on the opposite side of the room: Hey, you belong. Tells me we agree, we get each other, we understand, we forgive, we’re okay. Tells me I am loved even when I don’t exactly feel like it.
I love that face because it is the home of a billion expressions, each one contributing to your specific you-ness. The way you scrunch your eye brows or stick out your tongue or cross your eyes when you want to catch my attention. The way you flare your nostrils in disbelief or crease your mouth into flat lines when you’re upset. The way your eyes take on a hollow look when you don’t want to be where you are anymore. That face of yours is my manual for everything that you feel. It’s written in code but I know it so well because I have never studied harder for anything else in my life.
And we could go through your entire anatomy but still arrive at the same conclusion by the end of it. Now is the time to keep those windows wide open, to see yourself in a light that’s never harsh, to use love as a mirror wherever you go.
Because I hate it when you tell me that you don’t think you’re beautiful.
So I will make it my duty to stand on metaphorical mountains and paint the walls with truth. To keep reminding you that you are, you are until we finally start seeing the same person in the same uncanny light.
NOTE: To view the other entries, go to OTHERS then to the ARCHIVES part. Choose between, “Latest” which contains the recent entries or the “Months” for by month posts.