So I pen...

I know, you must be wondering why do I have two posts of such different wavelengths in one day. At least I am wondering. My switch of frequencies and the change of this sacred chamber surprised me at times. But I am getting used to it.

I have realised I have stopped reading horoscopes' readings for a while. It just crept upon me that I am all that should be read and understood by myself. My little gestures... the way I speak, I speak for myself.

I have his photo on my desktop and I am listening to Stereophonics now. I had his name searched on Google, not having the intention to stalk or whatever, I just needed to know he is doing well. Which is definitely uncalled for, because I have always known he'd do well, whichever transition he would be in. The outcome of the search turned out futile. There wasn't any way I could have found out.

I recapped my previous posts and I am disappointed by this caliginous hole right before my eyes still, after having blinked for more than a million times. I see nothing.

It has been a year, indeed.

Things were a lil different when I had Bennett walked out. I picked up pretty soon and fine. Weirdly, I couldn't come up with any explanation why do I still feel this way towards him. The span of time I was with Bennett was more than a tad longer than the period that I had my path crossed with him. I didn't cry as much for him as I had for Bennett. And there were more fond memories with Bennett playing his role out as compared to beautiful images of him casted. My memory bliss of him turns out to be quite melancholic. And I couldn't stop living this way, thinking about him. Quite a sadistic torment. And Shakespear would have been the only piece of wisdom I deem need.

I have been having the chances of chancing upon him. We were always so near, but I suppose fate has its reasonable amount of pranks. Well, I wouldn't have known what to do if I were to see him one day. Perhaps he might be even holding onto someone and I do not wish to have myself living in this daze, not even for a minute.

A friend of mine asked would I ever forget him. I told her I will always carry him to my deathbed. It is so intense and I am certain of this fact. Even if we were to start all over again someday when God decides to play nice, I will love him this same way when I haven't got him. But I know, we will never be a fairy tale. Our scars and shadows were heaven turned hell - too ethereal to believe and too painful to remember.

Did we lose ourselves again?

Do we take in what's been said?

Do we take the time to be

All the things we said we'd be

And we bury heads in sand

But my future's in my hands

It means nothing

It means nothing

You can find yourself a God

Believe in which one you want

'Cos they love you all the same

They just go by different names

When we fly our flag today

Are you proud or just ashamed?

It means nothing

It means nothing

And the sun sets in the sky

You're the apple of my eye

If the bomb goes off again

In my brain or on the train

I hope that I'm with you

'Cos I wouldn't know what to do

It means nothing

It means nothing

It means nothing

It means nothing

It means nothing

If I haven't got you

If I haven't got you

If I haven't got you

If I haven't got you

Aloysius.

Yes. I have changed my blog add till to some reasons or beliefs I have which might not be true even. So fuck me for being over imaginative or egoistic, as usual.

Now, I know the blog add sounds cheesy. But whatever. I can't think of better ones nor do I wish to. This is just a piece of virtuality which I am entitled to my own freedom of speech. And I am so gonna curse.

Fuck.

Basically, my work environment is uberly cheena-hokkien speaking. One which I try to stay away because I know that somehow the English is gonna deteriorate. And it's true because I just checked up dictionary.com for the double confirmation of the spelling of the word 'deteriorate'.

Fuck.

So Tracy is going away to BKK on the 23rd of July 6:30am just to siam my birthday. She had claimed that the tickets for 24th and 25th are way cheaper and tried to make me believe that she wasn't trying to siam. But you just dug your own grave luh old friend.

Fuck.

I cannot accept the fact that I AM 23. I have specially forewarned BFF not to send me any sms-es. Don't anyone send me a birthday wish sms. Thank you.

Fuck.

Everyone is hitting BKK for some unknown reasons. Even my boy loves it there. Some kinda heroin tomyam most prolly. Oh. That reminds me of the poppies.

Fuck.

My room's lights down. And I have no choice but to read by candles.

Fuck.

Okay. I am just blogging for the sake of it. And I have gotten so much to buy. I cannot decide between HTC touch diamond and iPhone. I cannot tolerate the idea of listening to mp3s on my phone and iPhone is so bulky. It'd mean irksome clubbing trips and so on and so on.

I am still waitin for my Agnes B budget you freak.

I hate myself for falling in love with one of the Gucci's because Gucci's bad leather. We all know that albeit love is so blind.

Okay. I have your photo on my desktop. And I love the cringing pain everytime I switch on my computer.

Fuck.

Out.

It has been a year.

I adore Lifehouse till this extent that I am afraid to have any of their tracks in my mp3playa.

I hardly have time to read at all. I sorta forgot what's the add of my blog. Well, it's long forgotten. I cannot imagine anyone out there still checking this out on frequent or regular basis. This should be discarded before it's left to die.

I apprehend the gravity of some words I came across last night on tv. I couldn't help but to weep and I had to hide the damn eyes from someone I would never love to hurt. I am, disappointingly, still in a state of confusion and dilemma most certainly. Affirmatively, I know those which flashed through my mind were mere wishful thinking. And if any fragment of the delusion should come to unfold to a sweet piece of reality, what I would do won't be what I wish to do. So that I would never live to regret. Of this, I am most certain.

That new version of Mariah's "Always be my baby" done by some dude is a song for the snail/tortoise ok. I don't read why it should be in the charts and I don't want to understand how someone can adore that version.

Guess what? I am so so overspending. New prized possession of the month is a Comme des Garcons wallet which cost a 320bomb. And that day use bag of Longchamp which is yes-you-so-know-how-it-looks-like and it is cheap. There's still no single bag in the market which has the ability to make me go totally crazy. I am just anti animal products and I love meat.

My english sucks. I know I know. =)

"Some things are meant to be together."

I detest your wisdom because it kills my dream.

I haven't been blogging in aeons to count. My writing juices were dried up when it's scorching sunny, and washed away when it's raining. I haven't have much to talk about to anyone or be it here anyway, besides the usual gossips I do at work, and the usual casual conversations with apologetic strangers. I am a slave to my wage. It is now officially my master and its manipulative powers have me totally under control. That's about it, that's about me now.

And I hate it when I can barely squeeze time out to read. Money and soul don't work together when shallowness is the opposite of depth. My boyfriend doesn't read my blog, my boyfriend doesn't read, and it bothers me. And what I have been idealising isn't my special want. It's singular, it's a living transition and it is a need. It got away last December, and it is soon to be free from the past two chained years this coming September.

I am a stranger. I am a living passed phase.

It is soon to be, the death anniversary of Mr Fingerme. And the presence of Miss Fingeryou hasn't been felt. So long, I have forgotten how they even come to existence in the first place. Time - what a weird natural catastrophe.

"You don't want to hurt me,

But see how deep the bullet lies.

Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.

There's a thunder in our hearts, baby."

You're a lonely soul.

We do not smile,

Because of the hurt they gave.

And we remain buried in our graves,

Burning and crying out in pain.

We do not care who we are in places,

Because we always walk on by.

We are so very ourselves,

And we fuck everyone else,

Just like anyone else.

You call us the depressives,

I call them the in-touches.

Because we are so rich with emotions,

It irks and boils your blood.

So cry and tell me soon,

When one of those ill veins snap,

Who do you fucking beg?

We are calendar people.

I do not understand how the hands of fate work its way around here. Imagine meeting someone whom you once were very close to a whole decade later and you had almost totally forgotten about him except for that face of his. Scenarios like these always got me pondering through the adrenaline rush on how to react because I have never imagined/fantasized chancing upon someone whom I never would love to remember. Significance is always in transition itself too. And because I believe that everything is a metaphor, I wonder what is going to unfold right after this chance encounter. Or rather what is that hidden agenda in and meaning of this meeting.

Alright. Thank God he doesn't remember me at all. Or perhaps he's just pretending like I am.

NL2 prepared our lunch for both of us yesterday. It was a simple meal. But there was lotsa effort he put in. And it was the first true meal I have ever had prepared by a boyfriend. I feel sorry for NL2 because his girlfriend here can't cook. I don't seem to be able to master the art of culinary. I can never logistically plan what to put in right after what and what so ever. Don't ever try my cooking I warn you. And that is, if I do put on that apron.

Work is good. Shopping is better. And having spending all the money you are raking in sucks. I am on credit now once again. And that is seriously nothing new. Having said farewell to three good colleagues, soon it's time to say farewell to colleague NL2. I would have to brave poverty with him. First ordeal. =)

Once again, I am addicted to maple.

It's time for some pictures ain't it!?

Alright, one pathetic one.

That's Mambo! I got wasted on milk!

I suck.

I got too tired and threw my shades on my dressing table when I got home this early afternoon. And it broke. Yes. Now I need to buy another new pair of shades.

And I have to change out the guineas later. So you wail, what's new?

And I bought something which most of you out there would most prolly scream at me for it.

It's a Marc Jacobs red clip. Which most prolly cost 60 moolah (for a clip) after my 40% staff purchase. Oh well, perhaps you guys won't scream at me for it. But NL2 is going to.

Lol.

I love my boyfriend.

In this process of avoidance of the mental and emotional pain, my conscious mind decided to enter a specific name in Google search engine, expecting what results would be displayed. Mixed up feelings hit like a tidal wave when I found a page - someone's blog with the mention of it. And a picture. A look which I never have got the chance to brand it painfully deeply into my head. It was dated two years history. And at that point of time, neither one of us has had our paths crossed.

My fist-like blood bank cringed in extreme pain and unknowingly shed a little fallen tear. With such massive waves of regrets and sorrow hit, I didn't even realise I had teared until the numb effect of the pain went off. Too afraid to break into pieces, I quickly shut down the computer and went into solitude, scribbling away in my journal words which could never ever be brought into reality. And it hurts me to find out how complicated my heart can be and I felt deeply shamed by the way I function.

I began walking alongside happiness (most prolly hypothetically) eversince some time in March, keeping safe of Chrissy and all ill emotions in two pocketfuls, never allowing myself to savour the dear old feeling which I have been missing. But how do I change the morbid attribute which I possess. It's only natural.

I miss you.

And I hate you.

I am doing well.

Thank you.

Thank you, stranger.

I say, Artifice

Life is more than fun when you are :

High end

Rich

Superficial

Manipulative

SAY CHEESE TO PIMPIN' from Tokyo!

Melodious songs with a fast tempo most of the times sound too melancholic.

Ear candies can sound so joyous that it makes me wanna throw up the disgust built up.

Most of the things seem so real to the extent they look fake.

Just like the fact that you have to be somewhat imperfect to be perfect.

I heard a foreign Chinese musical instrument played.

And have got no idea what it is.

I love the way it sounds.

I love the way I love things that I don't know about.

Love, hate, guilt, sadness and happiness are what I now called imaginings,

and our very dear self cognitive therapies.

Strong emotions are easier to manipulate.

Because of their depths and intensities,

they could always be willed into the extreme opposites.

It's coincidences and ironies we live in, isn't it?

I always wake up to these questions every day.

1. When will I be as hot as Nira Chan?

2. When will I totally break away?

3. When should I die?

Alright. The third one sounds more of like a plan. Anyway, as with regards to work,...

I still don't comprehend why every one is trying to pull one another down in order to make themselves look better.

Dumb fucks.

Dumb fucks.

And still, dumb fucks.

Life in the fast lane.

[Alright. I am a fat kamen rider.]

I feel that I have at last awaken from this long bad dream. It is relieving and is indeed a joyous affair to know that it's love I am still capable of producing. And like what they have said, you'd improve as time goes by, this time around, the capacity for Love is so much bigger, wider, almost unmeasurable. It is indeed simple and easier, when two lives come together and live as one.

I feel loved. And I am loved. I am thankful but I know I deserve it.

Because I love myself now.

-

This piece of news sucks. I am going to miss Stereophonics. It's like I have been waiting to see them for ages, and I have to give em a miss. I hate work/love the money it brings. Tell me the balance of Life, balance in Life, someone please? Aww... this thought hurts. Fuck.

-

Wenny, I hope you are fine. I miss your presence and the times we bitch about everything under the sun. Technically speaking, I miss the times we agree on almost everything. I hope you are real fine. And I know you are going to be, for sure. Rest assured, that if you don't know where you are going, all roads take you there. And I will stand beside you. Gosh. I sound so disgusting I feel like throwing up.

-

Von and Tracy, I think you girls should meet Nicholas. Soon. And yes to all my readers, I am in love. And I am definitely loved. You won't want to know how loved I am. And I can't explain it too anyway. I feel pampered, all the time now. The sun is out, the storms are long gone. I feel alive once again. So I smile.

If seemingly perfect lives are more like perfect lies, based on what do/would we even define lies? When we are always in a constant transition. Based on what do we even define perfect lives? When it is just the surfaced lives of others' we've seen and remembered?

I am tired. I am hurting. From all the ills I have contained within this humble fist-like wrap. And I know the only way of being free again, is to let all go. And embrace. I see it; I have visualised it. But I just do not have an idea how to. I have been slipping against the current for far too long. It would be a risk to go with it once again. I might have my regrets. It all seems like a vicious cycle. If this threshold gives way to another one which is similar to the one I have had before, it's going to be another alteration of mental landscape.

A mosaic - I do not know what makes me, me.

Simplicity is a shield. But how long will this last before I slip away again?

I would forever be in solitude.

The weather these days have been less than dreamy. The scorching killing sun when I open up my eyes, to the falling drizzle or downpour when night falls. Death Cab for Cutie has successfully made its way into my temporary mp3 player which I couldn't even squeeze more than 120 tracks into it. So I had missed lil paper biscuit.

The waves of pain still wash over at times far too many. But it is relieving to know that they aren't overwhelming. Perhaps I have cultivated a better control over them now.

Perhaps... Perhaps... Perhaps.

Now it all sounds so nostalgically peculiar.

I am a mute at home these days. Because they have proved all my hypothesis. Which you may call, facts now. I will not cry. Because it's really over. I have slipped away. I won't find crying so much of a joy now. To swallow the pain back in sounds much sweeter, in a sadistic fashion of course. And I know I have got my revenge. Because the physical pain you landed on me that night, ain't nothing compared to what I am giving back to you. She slipped away to a process of a prolonged vengeance. Watch me play.

Just admit that you're wrong. And I'll give back what I borrowed or stole.

The difference between Kaba Modern and Jabbawockee is...

...even with more than 30 peeps dancing at the same time.

Now this is what I call Dance.

I'm forced to fake a smile, a laugh everyday of my life

My heart can't possibly break

When it wasn't even whole to start with.

I feel more whenever BFF sings this song instead of cao ge himself.

And this is a fucken tough song to sing.

唱到我要吐了

HAHAHAHA!

Look what I've found!

While I was surfing ma fashion blog sites, I chanced upon this.

Shall we hit NYC together soon!?

I bemoan the wounds of Fortune.

There's so much to do, so little time.
So tight if I want to fulfill death at age 40.

I shall study operas/history and Mozart.

I shall study criminology/child psychology.

I shall study literature.

I shall take departure for some time and concentrate in enriching myself with so much, the past of the world has got to offer. And then I may come back...

I shall study fashion.

I shall plan my own death, the way I want it to be.

If there's no one beside you

When your soul embarks

Then I'll follow you into the dark

I miss you. And I hate you.

I have to push you like how I push others. Test your tolerance because I am in for some cheap thrills. If I conjure you are just like the others, I might have a better reason not to house you anymore. Because that's the way I am. If you think you know, think again. Because I do not have a threshold to start from, what even makes you think you know me for the way you think I am? I will not accept what you had planned as part of my life. And I don't wish to live in fear of what you may be, simply just because I am a greater liar than you. You could start your careless lips moving again however this time, apart from sweet sweet truth, cheap talks shall be put at bay.

-

I am simple. If I want to hate you, I will try to make sure I do. Even if it takes me putting up different facades, to invite tension between the two of us. I believe in ending it with my own hands even when the first spark wasn't created by me. I will forgive you when I have learnt how to hate you. Because you won't care if I do. No one really is bothered. We just walk on by ourselves, most of the times. So like total strangers once again, we'll walk on our own.

Pity.

Because I had really wanted to make it with you.

Last night's MOS trip has gotten me complaining now.

Firstly, I seriously think MOS is too costly a place for offering cheap crowds of people inside (Thanks to Mr Mysterious for signing me in). Nope. I ain't referring to the Malays. I am refering to the Chinese. The Muns (term for Cheena piangs) are rude, and definitely lacking mannerisms. The girls are as good as what I was when I was 14 except that they are way ruder. I have found out that the girls (especially) in Smoove, MOS, are mutes in disguise. They may be blind too for all I know.

Secondly, those people can't dance for fuck. So what's the point of hogging onto a space in the cage trying to show off to others how you shake you shoulders. And so what if you can bend a lil lower than your usual height? You ain't anywhere special. Everyone is doing it. So dude was telling me that those girls were just dying to be grope and grope. Haha.

I got picked up right under his nose. And he had actually let this new lad brought me into the cage to be one of the hotdogs in that hotdog counter. Looker - yes. Dancer - yes. You guys must be thinking that he's in for a lucky night ain't cha? Sadly, I ain't that easy at all. Blame it on this question he asked, "Are you a cheerleader?" What makes him even think I am just typically naive to buy compliments which are apparently so hard to accept? I have black hair and I am well informed that I am standing on soil of SG, and cheerleaders in Singapore can only do some somersaults. But I can't even do one. Hah!

Should have remained at the main and continued shuffling with those shufflers. Bad night, bad company but lovely river view with a big gulp full of whisky. No joke. We used to party like glams but we had to resort to buying whisky from 7-11 and sip it by the river.

My Girlfriend & I.

The girl who wanted to play with mimosa today got herself caught in this massive downpour of rain and she had to reorganise her time. Time is so very important to her now that she has decided to whizz back from Pluto and get herself a day job on Earth. Handling earthlings is a chore. She anticipates everything they should say, and makes comments two leaps or even three even before their strings of thoughts get logistically organised. She wonders why does each single one of us has to say/do things to attempt to bring others down in order to lift ourselves up to this level we thought we ought to feel triumphant and be proud of. Would the earth orbits better this way? If everyone was to be rid of their falsehoods and walk alongside with their innate simplicity basis, I wonder what kind of paradise would we see.

On the last day of my breath, most probably I would look back and think about those I have done wrong, I have failed, and those I have hurt and grieve. It isn't really a bad thing to be classified as 'emo' you know. People who chose not to be, or think they are not, just haven't got the chance for an epiphany to strike upon them like a big lucky star. The star would weigh on your body trying to kill you. For as long as you remain being weighed down by it, you should make full use of the time trying and learning more about everything, the gists, the evolutions. And be quiet, be silent because the winds of rumours created by your own mind are what you ought to listen. Listen and be in sync with them. Control them. Understand that no one would be able to fathom the way you feel not even through a thousandfold of attempts to converse. Because you, yourself are the world, solitude and very much alone than you think you are.

I had a sleep for death. But my phone rang expectedly and I was vacuumed back into reality and it was the way I have planned it to be the night before. The rain splattered all down and too sudden when I was walking to the library. I was upset that I am vulnerable to you still. I forgive you for using me, but I cannot forgive myself for letting you. I don't have a clue how much I am worth whenever she sneaks back in. I may have idealised you. Perhaps I chose to. Time has already altered the love I have for B et al. into another kind. Would I soon start to chase after it, or would I choose to remain rooted and unchanged and watch it works its acceleration away? If I were to be euphemistic quoting how great it would be if I can turn back time, I would say, I would choose not to have our paths crossed. Because it's a lonely road ahead for now, and it's quieter and darker than before.

Love letter.

When I am walking, I wonder if you are too. When it's dark and quiet,when I know you are asleep, I feel safe by just remembering how you look like when you are sound asleep. I didn't know what went wrong, and it doesn't matter now, the chase is over. Sometimes, I wonder whether your inner self still does tell you that I miss you. All questions no longer mean nor matter anymore. I pray for your smiles. And this is my part, and I am contented.

My Life is never the same when I lost a big part of it. And I am making the best out of the remains that I have got. This is my strength. My sentimental side wants me to hold on to you because I need to be at least humane to myself. I didn't know my calibres to love. I didn't think I don't know love. I didn't know what my love for you is capable of producing. Not until I've lost you, totally but yet not quite completely. Forever does exist. And everynight, sleeping to the ghost of you and me, in a hot summertime's room with a big tv... is enough for me to get by each single day.

I love you today. And I am sure I will love you tomorrow.

Your DKNY biatch.

It's been so long since I felt a passing day enjoyable. I am enjoying sadomasochism with myself, pushing myself to things I think I dread and yet seek pleasure out of this whole pain fashion. I love the fact that my legs are aching now. Because I know they are aching for the good cause, gotta have some basics for the hip hop yo? I locked myself up in this hour glass and watched myself wither bit by bit through the fine sandy grains. And that is 'me' in it, the one who's typing this isn't 'me'. And I hope she is constant for some time.

I thought about the loss I have had when I was commuting home. So I compiled a wishlist for year 2008. I am just going to use these materials to fulfill myself in whatsoever way. And I know I will love this feeling.

Following wishlist would be in pictures format. Just in case, some online admirer decides to pamper/impress me. -rolls eyes- Haha! I love Chrissy. :)

1.

The renown iPhone.[x]

P905i by DoCoMo!

2.

The very common Long Champ Le Pliage for day use. [x]

In black.

3.

Coach Hamptons Signature Turnlock New French Purse. [x]

Comme des Garcons. =)

4.

Louis Vuitton Vernis Sunset Bolevard.

5.

Pimpin' Ain't Easy from TokyoFlash. [X]

Checked! Pimpin' Ain't Easy Gold Edition!!!!!!

Kisses for Today.

I wonder,

how can someone so fine not be mine?

I have to leave you today.

However close we get, it will never be enough.

Remember this,

If you don't know where you are going, all roads will take you there.

I love you.

Don't forget that.

But then again, if it means nothing to you.

Why would I want it to mean something to me?