hobby?

I love my keyboard, I love playing it, and the idea of producing beautiful music with it. The problem is, I never find anything I play beautiful. It's been years, and I've gotten better since my first video below, but still, no matter how hard I practice, I still think I'm not good enough, and everything I play is ugh.

I love drawing... or I used to love it with a passion. I know I can't be a professional, but at least I have hands for it. With enough practice, I'm sure I can tackle some drawings that seem impossible for me. But never underestimate laziness. That's what made me stop drawing. Ridiculous, isn't it?

Video editing is fun. But it needs a lot of time and a stable internet connection, which I don't have.

I used to write a couple of years ago before I decided to learn the language first to make my writing decent.

What I constantly love before, between, and after numbers one through four is reading. I can't stop even if I want to. Eighty percent of the things I read are not good reading, but as long as they give me something, I will never change my preference.

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positive thinking

i can't find a fault in positive thinking. so why not?

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watching rewatching rerewatching

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guh

funny how i always become so sleepy at minutes past twelve when i supposed to start playing.

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old fanart

http://hp-sexstars.livejournal.com/20982.html

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Days (of repents)

Scavenging the magnanimity.

Trembling fear blames the temerity.
Inked prayer welded into the skin.

Deluding words to purify the sin.

It bothers me how bleak the left eye is.
Finding fault even at the start of the bliss.
The past which when it all began.
Ghost to the mind no longer sane.

how come the blessed one crumbles?

Was the journey no longer victorious? 

how come the righteous one stumbles?

Has heaven finally got mischievous?

harsh colors turn into a soft grey.

swirling slowly in search of a ley.

a quest to find the ancient white.

a race with the time of a scythe.

running nose

oh how cruel you are.
drop every drop escaping my nose.
snort every snort disturbing the crowd.
snot every snot,
oh don't look at my face!
for there must be a mess.
trail of liquid that having a race.
don't y'all need a rest?
embarrassing can't cover it all.
the tissue can't catch them all.
the pil will just slacking off
my nose still itch
and i still sneeze, sneeze, and.. snort..

(yeah i know how disgusting it is)

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one

i can't explain
but i can give you the feeling
the sensation of falling
down down rushing with the rain
seconds are ticking to the ground
felt like a lifetime
i tried to embrace the resisting wind
arms felt so full yet they're empty
the doom beset outrode my death

Owen

Where is the misery when you can't see it?
it's here along with all the beers
a daunting color in it's reign
rein him 'till he's turning blue
tell you what? i ain't got no clue
he wish you can rip it out of his heart
so he can go back to the shadow, his former self
he won't ever admit to admit defeat
he just wanna go back to the shadow, his former self
where there she is
the origin of his misery
the chorus is soothing through the blaring sound
he's gripping tight to the so called profound bond
at least he's reaching tho so it must be something
she must be proud...
in his former self, where she is now...
Where is the misery when you can't see it?
Owen is keeping it.