#writers ph

[argenluire]

Recipe of a Forgery

Ingredients

6 cup of dedication 5 cups of confidence 1 tablespoon of honesty 5 tablespoon of lies 10 cups of manipulation 1 piece of the real document

Recipe

Get a bowl to mix the ingredients of a perfect forgery. Put the piece of the real document inside the bowl, pour in the six (6) cups of dedication to study the document and to recreate it.

Also, the five (5) tablespoon of lies. Failure at this part is inevitable, you must practice mixing the ingredients well.

After having the mixture, apply 5 cups of confidence for the job well done. You are ready for the application of the next ingredient manipulation.

Upon pouring the ten (10) cups of manipulation, be prepared for the next step. Find the flaws and work on it. Mix thoroughly, and prepare it to be seen by the public.

You can now throw the 1 tablespoon of honesty, it is never needed in this recipe.

Poem

Stealing once identity Or  passing one's security Forgery is not just for fun It is something done for convenience Have you ever tried copying a signature? It is a form of stealing Always remember what the elders keep on telling Copying is a form of stealing in nature But you never mind the consequences What could happen it is just a signature? It became a habit until someone tracked there has been a change in the sequence You got caught And now you thought That what you did is wrong For convenience? Forgery.

[callmenickk]

One of the things I miss most about being a little kid is that when you’re little, all the movies you watch have happy endings. Dorothy goes to Kansas. Charlie gets the chocolate factory. Edmund redeems himself. I like that. I like happy endings.

Auggie, Wonder

[sn3ak]

in your arms

I ran to you for the last time. This shall not end here. I won’t end it here. We had visions, dreams, and everything we could never asked for. We planned it all.

But not this. Not this parting.

Not this ending.

Every step I take to you is every step away from you. So, I ran slower. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to be gone. But there is nothing I could do. 

I ran again, faster till I finally reached you. I held you in my arms and you held me in yours. I held you in my heart, but you held me in your arms. I held you in my soul, but. .  . you only held me in your arms. 

I held you, with my love, with my promises, with my broken body. 

I held you like I was clinging to dear life.

But you only held me in your arms. 

- sn3ak (via sn3ak)

[callmenickk]

The thing about making a movie that's very different from writing a book, of course, is that the act of writitng is actually a very solitary experience. It requires peace and quiet. By its nature, it's even a little antisocial. You can't mingle with people when you're writing. You might share bits and pieces of your work with a loved one and your editor, but it still forms inside your head and comes out in spurts of creativity baked inside your heart. To make a movie, though, requires the craftsmanship and artistry of hundreds of people coming together. It takes a village to make a movie. A city of people.

RJ Palacio, Wonder

[sn3ak]

Darkness started to grow in her and she started to grow in it too. So when it's time for the light to shine on her, it was too late. She cannot be seen. She was already the darkness.

sn3ak (via sn3ak)

[argenluire]

Ikaw ang aking pahinga, giliw. Huwag mo akong iwan sapagkat ang iyong pagkawala ay siya ring aking pagkasira.

[argenluire]

At the ripe age of nine, I am already my mother and father's own therapist. I never got the opportunity to whine on any discomfort I experienced. My father is depends on alcoholic beverages only to spill all the sour emotion he's keeping. HE IS A TICKING TIME BOMB. I am the eldest child and I need to listen to every problem they have in the age of nine.

I remember hiding in my closet just to escape his sour stories. I remember how my mother always say she is sorry for being incompetent wife and mother. While I sit there and with a straight face on. I can not show any emotion or I am to be beaten. I can not cry or my father's anger will be directed to me.

I am scared. I am just nine. I never asked to be born. Why must I suffer like this? I am not mirror of your delayed future, mom and dad. I am your daughter.