Vanilla skies.

By looking back in retrospection, things still do not seem clearer.

I quit my job. Rather than basking in the agony of having to do something which I do not enjoy doing everyday, I quit my job even when it's fetching me my bread. If you think I'm being a little too rash, that's really my problem. I do not see any point sinking myself deeper into this sea of pain when I am not exactly the happiest person on earth. I should learn to make myself happier and start doing things which I haven't got much time to do, for e.g, read and write.

So it seems to you that my blog hasn't been updated on a much regular basis compared to the way it was in the past. And that my sentence structures have been hovering around the same pendulum of stasis which definitely proves that no otherwise, my english sucks.

No. I am not caught in the rush hour of getting a new job soon. But wait till my well dries up. Perhaps you'll see the same old pathetic me. Except for the fact that I am baptized with the lavishes of branded goods from head to toe now. Doesn't matter if the wallet is empty, as long as the credit card is still working. But when the bank decides that it's the end of me, it's the end for me.

Anyway, I feel empty inside out all over. I am like a walking mummy. There's no drive, and nothing for me to look forward to. My insides are all mud, sand and worms. It is as if the world has owed me an pyramid load of happiness. When I am walking along the bustling roads, I feel like hiding away to somewhere dark and quiet. I hate town now.

My Calvin Klein flat pumps gave me a lot of problems for the past two days. If you think something flat would never hurt you, they happen to prove the very fact that a blunt edge could bleed you as well. I have three blisters on my left foot, and two of my right. When I plastered em up in the afternoon, they made people laugh.

You know, the eerie thing about me. The moment when I realize I am getting tired of something even though I like it, my mind starts detaching myself away. Then my vision of solipsism will surface again. But the vision now has a shadow casted over its horizon. Someone soiled my beautiful ego with little traces of footprints. It is as if I had someone walked all over me. When I followed the trail, I couldn't seem to trace where the trail lead, neither do I know whose shadow was it. It was a sad confusing sight. And I could only pretend to be indolent about it.

By looking back in retrospection, it got more confusing.