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. =)