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16 January 2012 @ 12:36 pm

This is the master post for all the writings in my journal.
I write a lot for school assignments and as a hobby but I'm not consistent in inspiration.

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i know i promised i wouldn't cry. but too much has happened this year that the tears have just positioned themselves in my eyes, permanently.

i'll miss you.

and i'll love you.

and in two years. i'll see you again.

omg i had my first ryeowook dream i think. it was kind of awesome and normal.

so it started off that i had visited my old elementary school and they were having like an end of the year party and i went to hang out with my best friend and my 3rd grade teacher and join their party.

so me and my best friend were just sitting there and chatting it up when i realized that my best friend was KIM RYEOWOOK. and he was all normal and i was all normal but my real mind was all freaking out.

so dream-wookie is kind of like me, and he likes to help people out. the problem was that people were being REALLY ULTRA demanding of him. they were all just like "Ryeowook i need you to get me this" or "ryeowook i need you to teach me that" and shit. and since he had a lot to do already i told him not agree to doing any more favors but he was all like "it's ok" and gave me a little smile and in my mind i freaked out but dream me just smiled right back and said "mmkay" reassuringly.

so after a while, wookie was all relaxing and the people were being mad rude like "i thought i told you to do this hours ago" as if he was their personal servant. so he got fed up, left the classroom and in a little while came back with all the shit they needed and proceeded to throw it all angrily to each person. and the people who needed him to teach them something he just snapped at them the whole time.

and then after all that was over, i went into one of the other classrooms where some teachers were cooking food and passing out drinks and i brought him some cake and milk. and he was all smily and i felt really upset at people and shot them all dirty looks.

and that's when my dream took a completely different turn and wookie wasn't in it so i won't write about it.

needless to say, that was an awesome dream. i wish my rl friend was kim ryeowook. :C
04 April 2010 @ 10:47 pm

lol is this the best video of golden disk awards? i think so.
this lent thing is harder than i thought. i've given up baked sweets, mostly because track & field will be starting soon and i need to eat healthier (so ha! dad who thinks religion is awful >:C).

but stiiiiill.

i was looking in my freezer for some breakfast this morning and i was like "oooh toaster strudels" but then i remembered the lent thing and was very sad. :C

i think i gave up sugared drinks last year and it turned out pretty good. i am no longer addicted to coca-cola.
but this sweets thing is a lot harder than that...

18 February 2010 @ 04:21 pm
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Changmin! What does it mmeeaaaannnn? :C
wow i have weird dreams. and i feel like shit.

but for some reason i keep reading that thing i wrote on the side of my journal, i feel a lot better every time i do.

lol is that kind of egotistical? hmmm whatever.

back to timing the ukiss fanmeeting..
11 February 2010 @ 11:02 pm
when you said "you hate me" jokingly
you laughed because it was witty

it was the trials
and obstacles that you set up
i ran through red, brick walls
reinforced with glass

i jumped over hoops
surrounded by fire
i dodged sharp pendulums
back and forth
back and forth, getting hit often

it was the trials
and obstacle that you set up
that separated us forever

it was forgive and forget
over and over again
that's what you expected
all you want are second chances

i punched through plaster
and cried bloodstained tears
because you were my sister
because the blood that i shed
was the blood in your veins

but tears won't wash away what you did to me
forgetting is a fairy tale that will never come true
and forgiveness was left behind at the last brick wall

when you said "you hate me," jokingly
i laughed because it was true.

true story. and it happened again. but i don't care. because after i cry i'm going to pick myself back up and try again. because i'm not a fucking quitter like she is. i'm not insane like they are. i'm sorry if it hurts them, but it hurts me too and they have to learn to move on.

i guess sometimes you just have to fill out the role of the bad guy when they want you to.
10 January 2010 @ 07:56 pm

16 December 2009 @ 09:34 pm

eunwookaday :'C

even if it's not as a pairing, but as best friends. support it!
10 December 2009 @ 12:49 pm

There is only two words for this performance.

UNF. and GUH.
09 December 2009 @ 12:02 am
time for dreams of cold, white fingertips on your face. fading just as you begin to feel them, fading just as you begin to love them. but it's worth it, somehow, even if it's only for a day.

on and on and on they fall, but there's no telling where they go. there's no way to follow them, even if it's more beautiful than where you are now. because you're always dissatisfied, always looking for something more. something more to love, something more to hate, something more to make you sad.

on and on and on they fall and you want to fall with them, but there's nowhere to go, nowhere to follow or fall or move. because something is always suffocating you, always pulling you in every direction except the one you want to go. but you know it's not someone else. it's not expectations or the trust or the responsibility. it's you.

it's time for a reality that's warmer, with red, black, orange, yellow hands holding tightly onto your's. time for happier eyes and mouth and faces loving you. and even if it doesn't last forever, it's real enough to hold onto, and that's all that matters.
13 October 2009 @ 11:54 pm
Title: wait for me
Author: bearklaus
Pairing: YeWook
Rating: E (for Everyone? :D)
A/N: I'm cold and I got bored of reading Macbeth and... well this is my first full fic, i think. O: and it sucks. kbye.

The bus is late. But you're not waitingCollapse )
05 October 2009 @ 10:10 pm
Title: Transcontinental Suffering
Author: bearklaus
Summary: Based on Western Expansion in the United States. The construction of the Transcontinental Railroad which made it possible to ship goods around the country at a faster rate.
A/N: Written for my history class.


To live or die was not a new or strange threatCollapse )
24 September 2009 @ 10:54 pm
Title: [not applicable]
Rating: PG-13 (words, suggestive phrasing?)
Pairing: Yewook (because this is for thundersquall )
Summary: Kim Ryeowook's your regular genius with a knack for taking things that aren't his. Kim Jongwoon's a detective who, sometimes, takes himself too seriously. Trick's a thief, a smiling thief who ends up taking much more than he intended.
A/N: Wrote this because I love crime!Yewook and because of all my pent up frustrations at Hakuba and Kaito for never hooking up in Magic Kaitou. Obviously this is like a little teaser. I'm not anywhere near done with the story. And this might possible become a chaptered fic but idek and i'm still not sure if this is ever going to be higher than PG-13..

Stealing, Ryeowook decides, is a lot like sexCollapse )
16 August 2009 @ 12:00 am
mom? dad?
may i ask?
were you perfect as a child?
did you parents approve of what you did?
am i perfect?
do you approve of what i do?
that's what i thought.

written on twitter.
bold = parent
regular = child

inspired by jaebeat's post on twitter.
15 August 2009 @ 11:24 pm
If you were to open your own theme restaurant, what would the theme be and how would you express it to the customers?

My theme would be 'World'. Every month, or perhaps even bi-monthly, (I want it to be weekly, but that would be extremely difficult, money-wise) the decor would change to express the culture of one country in the world. One month could be American culture, the next could be Puerto Rican culture, and so on and so on..

The menu would include new dishes (in addition to the regular dishes) that represent the culture of that country. For example, if one month were to be El Salvadorean culture, the new dishes might include pupusas, pasteles, and atól de elóte. Drinks are not excluded from the 'new dishes' list.

For me, the point of the restaurant is, firstly, to test how well people can accept different cultures and try something new. The second point is introduce those different cultures to people. The third reason for opening this kind of restaurant is to be different. I hate being stuck in a mundane lifestyle which I know many people live in. If I open this kind of restaurant, I could single-handedly change the mundaness of everyday working life for a small group of people, and, if good word spreads fast, for an entire nation of people.
29 July 2009 @ 10:32 pm
Chapter 1Collapse )
I wrote this.. last November. It's part of a bigger story. A novel actually. But I suppose I never got very far on that.
The names are just... I couldn't think of other ones I guess.. I just used people who fit the character somewhat.
08 July 2009 @ 04:53 pm
Title: Strong Baby
Author: bearklaus
Summary: "I don't blame her, but sometimes I wonder why she chose to leave us behind"
A/N: Written for my English class.

I don't blame her, but I sometimes wonder why she chose to leave us behindCollapse )
creditsCollapse )
28 May 2009 @ 10:02 pm
"Run little children, play. I'll leave the light on."
-Coheed and Cambria 

Run, little children, run
Play, little children, play
We'll be waiting for your return
With a candle and a few tears
With flowers at your grave
And open hearts

Smile, little children, smile
Learn, little children, learn
We'll take care of you
When the earth isn't enough
When all your hope is lost
And even when the sky looks dark and scary

Fall, little children, fall
Cry, little children, cry
We'll be there to pick you up
With tender hands
With soft smiles
And soothing words

Dream, little children, dream
Grow, little children, grow
We'll give you strengh
To keep reaching for your dreams
To love those who love you
And to never deny your true self

Love, little children, love
Cherish, little children, cherish
We'll never leave you so
Promise to always show manners
Promise to never forget
That we're by your side

So, run, little children, run
So, play, little children, play
So, smile, little children, smile
So, learn, little children, learn
So, fall, little children, fall
So, cry, little children, cry

So, dream, little children, dream
So, grow, little children, grow
So, love, little children, love
So, cherish, little children, cherish
We are the angels who are always here
You just have to look for us.els
22 May 2009 @ 06:06 pm
The world looks better,
When you're on high ground.
The world looks beautiful,
Just don't look down.
25 April 2009 @ 10:12 pm
Again, January writings. I've been finding these now that I'm cleaning out my machine.
It's not much. And it's weird.
FYI. I love run-on sentences. (:

ReachingCollapse )
25 April 2009 @ 09:59 pm
For a school assignment back in January.
I like it. I'm satisfied, considering I hate writing structured poetry (except Haikus but that's barely any structure, eh?).
The story is a bit blurry in the poem, and it just came out that way. I didn't intend it. Sorry. lmao. |:

Sestina, 090116Collapse )
18 April 2009 @ 07:03 pm
O.C.DCollapse )

Passed in.

I'm satisfied with it..
06 April 2009 @ 10:17 pm
It was an old building in the middle of a lonely street, a perfect place for mischievous children to play when school has let out and they don't want to go home. The windows are boarded with wood, but the door fell down a long time ago, and was dragged back into the building and hammered shut by concerned parents because children shouldn’t play here.

The back of the building held a secret entrance in the corner of a wall -dug out by squirrels and finished by rascals looking for a place to hide- where it connected to a stair case that's looks like it's been walked down one too many times.

Just past it, a too-bare-room is littered with broken beer bottles and game cards and a pool table sits in the middle of it. A glass window sits directly in front of the decrepit table, shining for whatever audience wandered into the warehouse, made from painted glass and a wire frame.
It towered, nearly as high as the distance from the floor to the ceiling and even though no light came through it the window sparkled, reflecting the light that crept in from the other windows and secret entrances. The sight makes one of them breathless (but it’s only because we ran and I have "smoker lungs") and makes the other one feel peaceful.

The floor is dirty and there’s a sort of fear of weird bugs that might be crawling around and another fear of broken glass and I don’t want glass inside my buttocks, thank you very much. But the other one just laughs and sits him down and disappears and leaves him alone.

Sinnan runs because he knows just how scary it can be sitting there alone, and because even though the closest convenience store is almost too far to walk, he wants to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

Breathless, he asks the clerk where they kept the drinks and jogs there and back, cash out and leaning on the counter.
The cashier doesn’t say a word, doesn’t think a word, because it’s not everyday a young lad runs into your store, barely breathing and buys two fizzy, fruity drinks.

“How much?” the boy asks again, and the man is a little frustrated because he’s already said it four times and someone this young shouldn’t have a hearing problem.
“$3.40” he repeats, and the other nods and hands over the money readying himself to run again and asking the cashier to please hurry up with that bag, I’m in a hurry.

Si Woo keeps sitting there, in the same position that Sinnan left him in, just staring at the glass, and feeling too holy to light a cigarette.
Did you make this, Sin? he asks himself and decides that it's the first thing he'll say when Sinnan comes back.

He reaches out a hand to watch the shards twinkle behind his fingers, trying to reach for the light and smiling when his arm is painted in multicolour. He twists his hand around, trying to get a better look at the spots of colour and is disappointed when the same shapes are painted on the other side of his arm.

The need of a cigarette becomes too strong for him to bear, and he lights one, carefully and not in front of the mural. Si Woo stands outside and scuffs his shoes on the floor, waiting for Sinnan to come back.


The way back is like a video game. Busy streets and busy sidewalks preventing Sinnan from going as fast as he'd like.
Two steps into the street, the light turns green.
Four steps into the street, he doesn't notice the green car, speeding his way.

"Hey! Watch out!"
Five steps and a man in a business suit is pulling him back to the curb with such a force that he's sent flying onto the pavement; scrapes and bruises jump onto his knees and elbows
23 March 2009 @ 09:54 pm
Title: N/A
Author: bearklaus
Pairing: BloHyuk
Status: In Progress

Life on the other side was always hard. The people toiled day in and day out and spend extra minutes looking up at the ominous sky, barely visible amongst the tall buildings, for hope.

There was a small child at that time, that was said to stand on the corner between a government building and an abandoned church. He looked up towards the sky-- no, towards the great steeple of the cathedral and prayed loudly and confidently for the coming of a great leader.

Years passed, and that child sat in front of that church, praying everyday, until the time came for him to work and toil like the adults.

He tried, during his first few months as a Worker, to keep coming, to keep his faith up, but his appearances decreased as time went on. He walked home everyday with his heart and spirit broken, stereotypical of the Workers, passing signs advertising prayer for women and children, and lost his faith just as those posters told him to.

The boy’s small figure and humble demeanour was not fit for work in fields, where a fracas would always interrupt the job and men were expected to be strong, smooth and confident. But the boy’s confidence had long since been shaved down until there wasn’t much.

So they put him to work in the grey building, sorting papers where he was out of sight of all the other Workers. He spent his days sighing into the cabinets, tapping fingers onto the vinyl floor when it became too hot to work and he was forced to roll around on the ground. Tapping his fingers and searching for the hidden beat in those old prayers.
Daniel spends much of his time at the local coffee shop, where “the usual” means a free cup of joe black and a nice table by the window. The view isn’t especially pretty, or remotely pleasant but it’s enough to give him a sense of what the world is like outside of the grey suits and enclosed spaces.

He imagines open fields of green when he sits there, dreams of them until his break time is up and he finds himself flattened between the wall of the elevator and Gary from accounting. They all glance at each other and give silent nods of acknowledgement and continue to watch the lit numbers climb up and up until they reach their cubicles.

This time’s different Daniel thinks as he stares at a plastic fern he’s sure wasn’t in his office when he left it 15 minutes ago. He’s lost, he’s never been out of the Regiment before. Cogs in his mind force themselves to turn and turn until he realizes he can just turn around and ride the elevator to his own floor and everything will be just--

The door closes as Daniel places his foot inside and he has just enough common sense to get it out and fast before it traps his leg.

The bell chimes as it the elevator reaches the first floor and it won’t be making a trip back any time soon. So he turns around to glance at the fern, observing the grey separators and windowless hallways.

There’s no way this is happening.
Hyukjae works and work, his fingers are covered with bandages and every so often he hisses from the pain in his stomach. Sometimes, the throbs are painful enough that he must be sent home with a cut pay check and a message to the head of the household stating the reason.
So he tries his hardest to endure it, working through the blur in his eyes and gasping and leaning onto the wall of the copy room until someone finds him and drags him to infirmary.

He fights the gloves that probe him and stretch his eyelids open until they can shine brightness into his eyes and make him blind. Rubber battles it’s way inside his mouth, forcing a small pill down Hyukjae’s throat; he swallows thickly, waiting for the usual relief that he’s come to associate with that pill. It comes without delay, first a warm sensation in his stomach that spreads until he can see the light of the copy machine, a sliding green that provokes the beast inside until it spits papers onto the tray.

Sweat trickles down his forehead as he sits up, crawling to the tray. With a groan he sees lopsided pages and half-coloured copies making their way through the slit, evidence of another soiled presentation.

It's not done. It's hot off the press, so no editing has been done except for the usual in-between-writing-it-and-running-out-of-inspiration-so-I-re-read-it-to-get-some-and-find-a-lot-of-mistakes kind.. >>
Title: Music
Author: bearklaus
Summary: And out ears don't vibrate anymore, hearing nothing; only silent battles and quiet kisses that don't mean anything.

here~ Collapse )
13 October 2008 @ 01:45 pm
A new uniform
“Are you leaving me?”
A worried expression on her face
Her first day of school
She thinks slowly about what this means
She has left home.
She has a new friend
Her worried expression is no longer there
Her first day of school
Her new uniform
How long she had hoped to wear it
How many days and months spent dreaming
Of this day
Her new uniform,
It makes the same
The same as the girl next to her
The same as her new classmates
She wears a different uniform today
A worried expression
New stress
First day of high school
She does not worry about fitting in
She is the same,
Has the same worried expression
As the people around her
She worries,
Different things every day.
Her new uniform
Her worried expression
That makes her the same
The same as the girl that stands next to her these days
Her new friend
Current Music: 「노을..바라보다」 TVXQ
13 October 2008 @ 01:35 pm
The way you turn
Makes it all so clear
That this is the correct decision
The way I look from your eyes
Makes it so much harder
To believe this is right
To believe that this is my choice
My only choice, the only way out.
Water drips from my beak
It makes ripples in my reflection
Those are ripples I can't control
The effects of the first drop
They spread outward
Slowly moving towards your feet
They are so close
But they do not reach
I turn my head
I can't deal with this
I can't go back
I've made decisions i can't control anymore
You turn away
You know how hard it is
To believe it's real
You know why I made this decision
You know that I have to
I look
I stare
I can't live anymore
I can't believe what has happened
You understand, I understand
But we don't know anymore
In the end it was the choice that split us apart
When you turned away from me
It was a barrier
When you looked
I turned away
Current Music: 「MIROTIC」TVXQ
13 October 2008 @ 01:09 pm
My Darling
Come home to me
Promise to come back
Promise me you'll never leave
My darling
I can't let you go
I'm not strong enough to let go.
You are stronger
You pry me off
"I can take care of myself"
Your father turns away, ashamed
I run to grab you once more
To embrace you
To never let you go
But you're gone
I cry
My baby is gone
He's too old now
But he's my baby
He left
As a blur
Into that dark place called the world
And I wonder
"Is he prepared?"
"Did I do a good job?"
I doubt
I know
He can take care of himself
That's what hurts me the most
That he no longer needs me
That he leaves because he can
Because he knows too
That he can care for himself and many others
And that's what hurts the most
My baby is gone
He is gone because he's ready
For this world
For this life that he has been blessed with
He no longer visits
He no longer calls
His father has turned away, ashamed
Worried about the wreck he's left me in
And that's what hurts the most
That he no longer cares
That he can hurt me
And hurt me
And he no longer cares
Because he's gone
And he's left me in the dust
And that's what hurts the most, My darling.
Current Music: 「HEY! (Don't Bring Me Down)」 TVXQ
28 September 2008 @ 01:59 pm
Upon arriving I am greeted with a sign, not necessarily a bad sign, but an unfortunate one.
As I look beyond the changing room I notice high, dangerous, waves crashing onto the shore. The connection between the waves and the sign is all too apparent, but I can’t help but doubt my inference as I walk across the parking lot.
The number of disappointed faces is overwhelming. Every which way a child asks his parent
“Why can’t we swim, daddy?”
And the disappointed voice answering
“We just can’t.”
The wind blows my hair back, and forward and every which way and I strain to keep it out of my eyes as I scold myself for not bringing a hair tie. And that damn taste of salt is in my mouth for the fifth time this summer.
The bright blue sky is peaceful but ominous as light from the sun reflects from passing cars and hits my unshielded eyes with such a force I have to stop walking for moments at a time.
Squinting, I sit down on a bench, situated on the boardwalk. The waves are hitting the beach in a guarded manner.
‘Touch me and die.’
It seems to say.
The wind suddenly forces a disgusting mixture of sea salt, fries, and cheese into my unsuspecting mouth. It’s an almost nauseating aroma and I wonder if everybody enjoys these smells. These smells that have become a staple for American beach goers.
I bet they can’t stand it either.
Lifeguards patrol the beach, keeping everyone from the dangerous waters. And a couple of people decide not to adhere to the rules, they run up to the water, quickly splash their faces and body and return to their chairs. Most of them get caught.
My eyes wander off to the far side of the beach, to the horizon where I can no longer see people, just big waves smashing in and receding like a coward that only talks big but has great potential. I skip down to the sand and my shoes sink into it and my socks are filled with small grains. I sit down and untie my shoes-laces, and peel the socks from my sweaty feet. I discard these as I start walking.
Observantly, I saunter off to the other side of the beach, where a group of people are practicing Tai-chi to the sounds of the waves. I walk, staring at the ground, and smiling at the small imprints left behind by the seagulls. 
Following a small river, I arrive at large concrete sewer pipe. It looks as though it’s still used but once again I doubt my assumption. These days, how could anyone be so insensitive as to dump toxic chemicals onto unsuspecting beachgoers? 
The rank smell that the sewer pipe produces is making me more nauseous than the smells of the concession stand. As the waves smash and crash and shrink back behind me I start running. 
‘What a disgusting place’ I think as I run as fast as I can with the sand clutching at my feet and impairing me. As though it’s first priority is slowing me down.
Back at the restaurant, I grimace as I reluctantly relish that off-putting smell and wash my feet in the freezing cold faucet water. It splashes all over my clothes and soaks my arm up to my shoulder.
I shudder at the thought of that sewer pipe gushing with grime and waste into the once pristine salt water.
‘What a disturbing thought’
Heading out of the beach and out of the parking lot, I hear an overlap of discussions. People coming, people going, all complaining somewhat of the sign at the front.
No swimming. 
Current Location: Desk
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: 「未来の果て」heidi.