Comfy & casual πŸ’‹πŸ’€πŸ’‹πŸ’€

Comfy & casual πŸ’‹πŸ’€πŸ’‹πŸ’€


Vain.

Vain.


becoming fearless isn’t the point. that’s i m p o s s i b l e. it’s learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it,Β t h a t ’ s t h e p o i n t.

(via perksofbeingafanboy)



#MichaelJackson would have been 56 today. Happy Birthday to the one that inspired me to write, appreciate art and books, and expanded my love for music and films. For encouraging the best in me in whatever field I choose, thank you @michaeljackson | “Be the best, not the second best.” #MJ

#MichaelJackson would have been 56 today. Happy Birthday to the one that inspired me to write, appreciate art and books, and expanded my love for music and films. For encouraging the best in me in whatever field I choose, thank you @michaeljackson | “Be the best, not the second best.” #MJ


I got my bracelets! (Or ballers, whatever) Ang bilis ng shipping! Less than 24 hours lang kuha ko na whoaaaa! 😁😍😚 Thank you so much for the hq service #bandoodles (check it out on facebook) πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘ { #bandmerch #paramore #alltimelow #blackveilbrides #atlhustlers #parawhores #bvbarmy #band #music #rocknroll #happykid }

I got my bracelets! (Or ballers, whatever) Ang bilis ng shipping! Less than 24 hours lang kuha ko na whoaaaa! 😁😍😚 Thank you so much for the hq service #bandoodles (check it out on facebook) πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘ { #bandmerch #paramore #alltimelow #blackveilbrides #atlhustlers #parawhores #bvbarmy #band #music #rocknroll #happykid }


This is as far as it can get. #highlights

This is as far as it can get. #highlights


Pizza afternoon πŸ•πŸ•πŸ•πŸ• #happybirthdayinang πŸŽ‰ (at Guagua, Pampanga)

Pizza afternoon πŸ•πŸ•πŸ•πŸ• #happybirthdayinang πŸŽ‰ (at Guagua, Pampanga)


Happy birthday to the very talented @jakepittsbvb of @blackveilbrides #bvbarmy #jakepitts #guitarist

Happy birthday to the very talented @jakepittsbvb of @blackveilbrides #bvbarmy #jakepitts #guitarist


"The good thing about art is that no one necessarily knows what you mean by it anyway." -Gabrille Zevin, Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac { #painting #abstract #art #birds #latepost }

"The good thing about art is that no one necessarily knows what you mean by it anyway." -Gabrille Zevin, Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac { #painting #abstract #art #birds #latepost }


It’s called a very slow progress. #stillstruggling #ontheworks #art #painting #day2

It’s called a very slow progress. #stillstruggling #ontheworks #art #painting #day2


I had a jar once. I had it since I was a kid. It was an empty jar, but a jar nonetheless. I had it in my room amongst my other special items. It sits beside my jewelry box and my favorite book.

I had always treasured my jar, wiping it clean from time to time. But I never opened this jar. Not once did I dare to take off the lid. And that’s part of what makes it special. Being untouched. Being reserved.

My Mother, every time she comes into my room to clean up my mess, would ask me why I still keep the jar.

She said, “Why not put that jar into good use and put some loose change in it?”

"It already contains something inside," I would reply.

Hearing this, Mother would just shrug and proceed with her cleaning, as if I simply just said, “No.”

Whenever my friends come over for a sleepover they would say, “What’s up with the empty jar?”

"It has sentimental value," I would say.

Hearing this, my friends would just shrug and proceed with gossiping about boys and school, as if I simply just said, “Just because.”

And then my cousins would say in every reunion we have, “You still keep your jar?”

I’d reply, “It’s not just a jar.”

Hearing this, my cousins would just shrug and proceed with story-telling, as if I simply just said, “Yes.”

Years went by and it was time to leave home. For college. For work. For marriage. For family life. 

Much later on, I almost forgot about my jar, until my husband and I visited my sick Mother one Christmas eve.

"So now can you tell me, why you never opened that jar?" Mother said, pointing to the same jar I kept in my old room for so many years.

"Because it contains something inside," I replied yet again.

"I have a confession to make," she said.

"Did you open it, Mother?"

She batted an eye before nodding hesitantly.

I sighed. “Oh well, I guess I lost it now.”

"What did you lose exactly dear? There’s nothing inside but air," she explained.

"That’s exactly my point. I never opened it because I fear to lose something not mine, but feel like it’s been stolen from me once I do."

Read more on www.lilahgran.blogspot.com {#shortstory #writing #lilahgran #emptyjar #poetry }

I had a jar once. I had it since I was a kid. It was an empty jar, but a jar nonetheless. I had it in my room amongst my other special items. It sits beside my jewelry box and my favorite book.

I had always treasured my jar, wiping it clean from time to time. But I never opened this jar. Not once did I dare to take off the lid. And that’s part of what makes it special. Being untouched. Being reserved.

My Mother, every time she comes into my room to clean up my mess, would ask me why I still keep the jar.

She said, “Why not put that jar into good use and put some loose change in it?”

"It already contains something inside," I would reply.

Hearing this, Mother would just shrug and proceed with her cleaning, as if I simply just said, “No.”

Whenever my friends come over for a sleepover they would say, “What’s up with the empty jar?”

"It has sentimental value," I would say.

Hearing this, my friends would just shrug and proceed with gossiping about boys and school, as if I simply just said, “Just because.”

And then my cousins would say in every reunion we have, “You still keep your jar?”

I’d reply, “It’s not just a jar.”

Hearing this, my cousins would just shrug and proceed with story-telling, as if I simply just said, “Yes.”

Years went by and it was time to leave home. For college. For work. For marriage. For family life.

Much later on, I almost forgot about my jar, until my husband and I visited my sick Mother one Christmas eve.

"So now can you tell me, why you never opened that jar?" Mother said, pointing to the same jar I kept in my old room for so many years.

"Because it contains something inside," I replied yet again.

"I have a confession to make," she said.

"Did you open it, Mother?"

She batted an eye before nodding hesitantly.

I sighed. “Oh well, I guess I lost it now.”

"What did you lose exactly dear? There’s nothing inside but air," she explained.

"That’s exactly my point. I never opened it because I fear to lose something not mine, but feel like it’s been stolen from me once I do."

Read more on www.lilahgran.blogspot.com {#shortstory #writing #lilahgran #emptyjar #poetry }