Just last night, there are already more than 40 persons who directly asked me, “Who’s that?”, “Who’s the girl?”, “Who’s she?”… referring to the girl on my headshot/primary pic/avatar... the image of a girl that’s been featured on the magazines and all over the web.
I haven’t been able to give them a concrete answer that my reason varied differently for each of them.
When your words come to easily
for me to believe
and this paint goes on too thinly to peel away.
I will find a silver lining sometime.
Blur my vision and I'll be fine.
And I'll be fine.
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(reason out of mushiness)
SHE, a graphical representation of that someone that I will have my last dance with.
(reason out of fantasies)
SHE, a northern downpour, if I’ll have my chance to recreate a fictional character, she is my version of Final Fantasy VIII’s Rinoa Heartilly. Oh well, Tetsuya Nomura’s original character Rinoa is still by far the best. Sorry to Yuna and Tifa Lockheart fans.
(reason out of art)
SHE, that girl from “When It Rains”, the girl who waited under the rain for this boy who promised her forever.
(reason out of reality)
SHE, a Bishōjo, red bangs. pouty lips. wide shimmery unsullied eyes. puerility. monsoon. pitter-patter. umbrella.
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When your words burn forever in my mind
and those greens and those blues
seem too perfect to be true,
I will light a fire every time I think to myself,
I will be fine, I will be fine.
It’s fictional, a metaphorically created character. But somewhere beneath her hides this beauty, a real image of a girl. Someone I once knew. I took a picture of her and kept it in case I’d meet her again.
Prosthetics. Make ups. Photoshopped pictures in posters and magazines.
But for her, no need for any manipulations. I prefer simplicity and purity.
Nothing can hide this beauty once revealed.
SHE, the girl from the rainy season of fayth.
Whoever she is… whatever she looks like… wherever she is… Whenever that time comes that I meet her again, I’ll do it correctly for there is no such thing as third chance. Then, if ever, I’ll be happy enough to say that I am complete and it’ll be the perfect season to rejoice. A perfect ending for a chapter that will lead to a start of a new book.
Burn the pages of the magazines
I hate the way they look at me.
With every smile and every laugh
there's something I will always lack.
And maybe just maybe an imperfected me
will not be seen.
And maybe just maybe just maybe
this beauty will be clearer to me.
- Jupiter Sunrise's This Beauty -
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how lovely... everything was just... lovely 
