She will claw at her own weaknesses and tear herself apart. She will criticize every modicum until nothing is left at last. She will kill the good inside of her as she exterminates the bad. She will do what it takes to destroy the girl she sees in the mirror – to erase the existence she doesn’t want. She will.

He’s different. He won’t admit his troubles and he’ll hide away his secrets. He’ll press his head against the pillow and be consumed by sheer insomnia. He’s hiding too much. He’s not letting it out. He wrestles with the pain day in and day out. He’ll lie to his friends and smile like a ghost. He won’t try to change for he thinks he’s alright. He won’t make a move because he’s scared of the consequence. He won’t.

She’ll lose all her friends someday due to her self-destructive personality.

He’ll lose all his friends someday due to his lies and fabrications.

She won’t meet him and he won’t meet her. Their worlds will not collide.

They’re not the same. Not at all. Yet somehow, they are plagued and haunted by something too similar. The monster that lurks in the darkest of souls.

It’s not easy to hunt and not easy to kill what has grown for so long. Her desperation has amounted to nothing and the creature has only fortified itself. It will eat her alive.

His monster is suppressed, but growing in power. He won’t be able to hold out for long.

Neither will look for help. One tries to change and the other tries every possible method not to. Yet the both of them will not slay this monster by doing what they do. Monsters aren’t meant to be fought alone. Monsters aren’t meant to be ignored.

She thinks herself a hero, a warrior with a mission. She thinks herself substantial enough to kill the beast. She’ll draw her sword and face it head on. No armor. She has no armor. Her delicate self lies vulnerable to the monster.

He hides in his castle, building more and more walls. He’s upgrading the defenses and ignoring the threat. He won’t attack. He’ll defend for his life. Still, all walls will crack eventually. All castles will erode. He can’t run forever.

Time is running out for the two of them.

There’s no way to make it all disappear.

Reality always hurts the most. Reality always finds its way through the gaps even if you try to shut it out. Reality doesn’t wait for you to get better and it won’t wait for them either. Yet somehow it’s not a matter of what reality is, but what is done with it.


Stories Unwritten

I thought I told you to go away already.

A bedtime story? Fine. As long as you’re not asking about them.

I’ll tell you about the Archangel Creya. The one that was forced to wield the double swords. The Judgement of the Gods and the Judgement of Hell. Tragic? Not really.

Hey, you’re not going to cry for her are you? If so, I’m not saying another word.

Why is she carrying both swords? There’s too much blood in this story for a little guy like you.

You’re seventeen? Gee, you don’t look it.

Oh right. The modifications.

Back to the story? Oh all right, if you insist.

The wielding of the two swords was a burden for her. In a way, her blessings became her curse.

Yes, she was in love.

Oh right. Not this again. You really can’t comprehend the sentiment known as love? Then I really don’t want to explain it. It’s hard, really.

Who was she in love with? That’s a good question.

Both the archangels and the fallen angels adored her. She was wonderful really. Her demon wings would replace her swift angelic ones when she entered hell, but she would keep on wielding both swords. Why? For protection of course. The swords were more powerful than you can imagine.

How did she die? What is it with you and death? You always seem to want to know more about it. You’re far too young to be thinking about that. Far too young. And she’s not dead. Not really. In a sense, I suppose, but not truly.

She’s caught.

That’s the word for it.


Like a bird in netting, she’s bound.

Trapped between the two worlds.

In both and yet not really in either.

I shan’t say anymore. Hurry off now and go to bed.

I can’t say anything more tonight.


I don’t always make sense. Actually, I wonder if I ever do.

That’s not a good thing. I know. You don’t have to rub it in my face until tears come out. Oh wait. You don’t do that. I wish you did.

I see you’re bringing her up again. I’m tired of talking about her.

Him? Why do you always want to hear about those two interchangeably?

Fine. I’ll tell you something you don’t want to hear.

She’s dead. He’s dead. They’re both gone now. Why bother knowing the whole story?

Want to know how she died?

The virus. It infected her systems. I suppose you could say it make her sick…though she was immune to most diseases.

It was impossible to extract. Oh wow. Now you’re going to cry?

Seriously? What’s the point of asking if you’re just going to sob at every little thing?

She didn’t even die from the virus. Don’t look at me with those eyes. I’m not telling you how she died.

I promised? Did I? I just asked if you wanted to know how she died. I made no such promise that I actually would.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you. When you’re ready.

Now go away. Have I ever told you how annoying you are? Never? Well you are extremely that.

Now hurry off. Protector is waiting. Go on.


Sometimes my hearts. It hurts a lot.

Physically. Probably not mentally? At least I think it’s my heart.

Sometimes I question my sanity.

I’m probably not sane.

I love the word probably.

Pro-ba-bly. Yum.

She’s growing stronger everyday.

She learned to wield a bow today. A solar-powered bow that shoots electrifying arrows. How wonderful.

She asks why she can’t use a gun. The Professor tells her that guns can be self-detrimental. She laughs at the idea. The Professor sighs and gives her the gun.

She shoots.

Not satisfied. Her arrow travels farther though the gun is faster.

She gives him the gun.

He shoots. Smiles.

She lets him keep it.

They exit the ruins and return back to the labratory.

The Professor starts to cry. Takes the gun and fires at a steel wall. It ricochets.

Blood everywhere.

No one will save the Professor.

They don’t need one anymore.


Rainbows – Reality?

Isn't this double rainbow just amazing? 🙂

Okay, I’ll be real this time. I’ll take myself out of my crazy dream world and talk about real things this time. What shall I talk about? Life? Friends? Family? School? Hobbies? Writing? I have no clue. The possibilities really are endless.

So rainbows it is. I’m sure we’ve all seen a rainbow at some point in our lives. That picture above is the first time I’ve ever seen two in the sky at the same time (I’ve seen three before, but this is my first time seeing two.) The picture isn’t all that clear since it was early in the morning (like 6am!) and the sky was still pretty dark. Still, it was an excellent way to start the day.

As much as I’d like to talk about rainbows for an entire blog, there are more important things to discuss.

Such as my future of course.

I love to write. That’s a simple fact about me. I like to be depressing also. I like to bring reality and harshness to the minds of others. I’m totally nice, right? In any case, I know I’m not the best writer. I don’t aim to be. I don’t even aim to have my writing read – which is why I have no idea why anyone would ever read what I’m writing now. I suppose that’s why I’m publishing it though. In case one day, someone would like to read it. I highly doubt that. Perhaps I’m simply doing this for my own reference in the future. Yes, that’s probably it. I’m just writing this so I can read it later on and reflect on how much of an idiot I am for writing this in the first place. Such pleasant thoughts, no?

One thing I want to talk about above all else right now is the name “Lena.” Why do I call myself that when it’s not my real name? Why do I insist on lying to the virtual world instead of being truthful and just saying my real name outright? Well, besides the fact that it’s simply not safe, there’s also the whole “role-playing thing” or rather, being a different person online. Lena’s an alias one of my friends on (I wonder if that’s still around by the time you’re reading this…or I’m reading this) gave me. It comes from my username: Bluesander. You can find the letters l, e, n, and a there so you get the point, right? In any case, I really liked the way it meshed like that and I decided to keep it. Now it’s simply something I use when I don’t feel like giving out my real name. It’s different, I suppose.

I guess that’s enough for one blog. Too much randomness is bad for the soul. Or so I say. Anyways, no more writing…until my next burst of craziness 🙂


I don’t know where I’m going. No one knows, really. Some claim to know, but in reality, they’re only lying. Why am I calling them liars? Huh, wouldn’t you like to know.

Knowing. What a strange thing to do. I’m not sure I ‘know’ anything. I am, however, sure that knowing is impossible and very possible at the same time. Like this instant for example. Do I know or am I a person who is completely clueless, a person that doesn’t know? Am I pretending to know by acting like I don’t know? It’s completely hard to tell, isn’t it?

I suppose I am both. Someone who knows and someone who doesn’t. I hate thinking, but I like writing my thoughts down.  So many contradictions, so many similarities. I can’t tell where my thoughts are directed anymore. It’s like the whole word has turned upside down, but yet at the same time, I can see things right side up. Isn’t that world a silly place? Aren’t I a strange person? Isn’t everyone? I don’t know anything.


I wonder why no matter how far I go, I find myself turning back.

I loved you. Or so I thought.

Who is he to judge what I can and cannot do?

Who is he anyway?

You knew everything. I relied on that fact far too heavily. I’m telling this story now because of you, because of who you were. I want everyone to know what you did wasn’t right.

I want myself to know that you were wrong.

Still, I can’t tell my friends. I can’t tell the public. What I know must stay a secret. I can’t tell anyone. It’s forbidden.