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FUJII

Jakarta Raya, Indonesia

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𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅, 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆

𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞.

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Favorite Guide

How to: Make Mi Goreng

Created by - ＳＨＡＷＴＹ

2,805 ratings

Dota 2

This is how you properly make Indomie Mi Goreng, a popular Indonesian instant noodle product. You can microwave or use a kettle to cook the noodles in the bowl, at the cost of being a major fucking loser. It is loaded with palmolein oil, MSG, saturated fat

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to·get·her

Amidst the havoc-inducing endeavor,
An exuberant beauty passed by.
Vamoose hurriedly into obscurity.

Joyous and much lively,
Her felicitous eyes could render unconsciousness.
Her glistened and lustrous lips,
Would silken fervor for each affection.

Her marvelous apperception and well-known expertise,
Persisting to inveterate,
Trapped by conviction and sheer judgement perpetually.

Her rayless, yet warming shadow endow shelter upon others,
Against the scorching, blazing sun.
Her very skin vaguely polished,
Her face blanched palely on charming elegancy.

Yearning towards her benevolence like nothing before.
Gleamingly aflush with amorousness,
Enamored of her matchless frame of mind.

Love. A sickening, stomach-turning,
Loathsome feeling steadily forever after.
Bouquet of beauteous perennial blossoms,
Mostly incapable of subduing her angelical virtous.

Severed Ties

Absent, deceased or disappeared.
Nevermore to yet display an amorous demeanor anew.
Her very eyes had spoken in volume of outright silence.
All dishonesty and forgeries were unveiled rapidly,
In complete disregardance and such sorrow disappointment.

Through the severed ties they had shaped,
One maneuvers forward, leaving traces.
Forsaken, refrained, left with remnants.
His love to his Juliet was now a mere phantasm.

EVERYDAY SEEMS LIKE AN ETERNITY

Strangely enough, for the oblivious forgetful,
Time as it was called, would’ve had flown in rapid speed.
Such preposterous, frivolous, yet ungrateful minds.
Time itself does not simply fly overhead.

Time is yearning to break him, to change him.
It attacks him with such predetermined course,
An outcome that is possibly inescapable.
Fate. He had shunned, despised, and cursed.

in·cho·ate

He is ill.
Suffering, frail and nauseated.
Floating buoyantly on a desolated sea.
Plummeting thirstily into a quicksand.
Desirously waiting for an eternal rest.

He deceives himself of what is predestined.
Losing all sense of warmth empathy.
He do not find it congenial to care,
Unless it is favorably advantageous.

Assuming the advantage of a lifetime,
To be expedient to his leg-dragging quest.
His sacred search for mon bel amour.
But he is tired. Withered yet wicked.
He is forced, tied to the chain-loop,
That he, himself abhorred.

Countless times he has exert himself.
Striving, competing, for affection.
An apathetic castaway failure,
Who had lost the touch of sympathy.
Reputation, depleted into neglection.
Rotten, profane and corrupted.

He endured every drawback with sincere intention.
Even though he didn’t know who she is,
Or where she is, where she come from,
Or even when she was born.
He still misses her presence.

As long as he can breathe,
As long there is blood running through his veins,
He would still search for his Juliet.
His heartfelt ecstasy.